A magazine once described Kingsly Scott as: "If there is a best in this world, then Kingsly Scott is the best of the best." Kingsly Scott genuinely embodied this accolade in a world where praise is often freely given.
Oliver attempted to reach Titans Group, navigating through multiple layers of gatekeepers, only to be dismissed by an assistant who stated that Helen and Mr. Scott were away on business. Frustrated, Oliver was taken aback by the assistant's audacity.
Seeing Oliver's exasperation, Rachel took the initiative and called Titans Group herself. She patiently worked through the layers until she was connected to Helen.
"Miss Foster, I'm sorry, but Mr. Scott is not in the city for the next few days," Helen politely informed her.
"Do you know when he'll return?"
"I'm afraid not. Mr. Scott's schedule is quite unpredictable."
Not wanting to press Helen further, Rachel thanked her and hung up. She had an idea.
Recent media coverage highlighted Kingsly Scott's new mansion—a sprawling estate featuring a golf course, tennis court, and swimming pool, reportedly a gift for his wife. Rachel decided to try her luck there.
Rachel Foster waited in front of Kingsly Scott's residence for three days straight. She knew that Kingsly, devoted to his wife of three years, would likely check on the renovation progress upon his return. Waiting here seemed more promising than attempting to see him at his office.
She sat in the car, gazing at the villa. Tall, green hedges shielded the interior from view, with cameras and patrolling security guards ensuring privacy. It felt like a modern-day fortress.
Her driver, David, remarked, "Miss Foster, this place must be worth billions, right?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Scott is truly successful. Any parent would be proud to have achieved so much at his age."
Rachel leaned back, her thoughts drifting. She had encountered him twice in the same city; in seven years, they'd been in the same town.
Once, at a traffic light, she glimpsed him in a Bentley. His handsome face bore a resolve and firmness that hadn't been there before. He exuded the calm, depth, and acumen of a seasoned businessman. She knew then that he was destined for greatness.
The second time, she saw him in a high-end boutique, accompanying his wife. He was engrossed in financial news while his wife tried on outfits. When she emerged, his focus shifted entirely to her. The tenderness and affection in his gaze as he wrapped an arm around her waist were unmistakable.
"Miss Foster..."
David's sudden call snapped Rachel back to reality. Looking out the window, she saw a silver-gray Bentley driving past.
Rachel Foster immediately recognized the car—it was his. She swiftly exited her vehicle, heart pounding as she approached the Bentley parked at the villa's gate. Doubt crept in with each step. Would he recognize her? How would he react? Was the past truly gone like smoke?The passenger door opened, and a young man in a crisp suit and holding a briefcase emerged, the epitome of a professional assistant. Rachel steeled herself and moved forward.
The assistant opened the rear door, and a tall man in a black coat stepped out, phone pressed to his ear, head slightly lowered. Rachel's heart raced as she caught a glimpse of his familiar profile.
Suddenly, he looked up, scanning his surroundings. Their eyes met briefly, but he showed no sign of recognition, continuing his conversation as if she weren't there.
Helen noticed Rachel and approached, frowning slightly. Rachel stood her ground, watching him from a distance. Time seemed to freeze as she gazed at his unchanged features, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he spoke into the phone.
He ended the call, and he turned to face her, perhaps feeling her stare. Their eyes locked, and his brows furrowed slightly. She held his gaze, afraid that looking away would shatter her resolve.
His expression grew serious, a hint of arrogance and authority in his eyes. Did he recognize her? Rachel's heart pounded, the world around her dimming.
"Mr. Scott, this is Miss Foster from Silverstone Holdings," Helen introduced respectfully.
Kingsly raised an eyebrow, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face, but he maintained his composure. "Pleasure to meet you," he nodded, then turned towards the villa.
Rachel was taken aback. She hadn't expected their reunion to be so formal, so cold. Did he truly not recognize her?
"Mr. Scott!!" she called out, stepping before him.
He frowned, clearly displeased, but smoothed his expression, maintaining a polite demeanor.
"Mr. Scott," she started, wanting to call him by his name, but the words caught in her throat. "I'm sorry to take up your time. I would like to discuss 'Westwood Heights,' the project jointly invested by Silverstone Holdings and Titans Group."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't discuss business during personal time, sorry."
She looked directly into his eyes. "I only need five minutes."
He chuckled softly. "Alright, five minutes." Turning to Helen, he said, "Prepare my breakfast." He checked his watch. "Is there a meeting at the office in an hour?"
"Yes, Mr. Scott," Helen confirmed.
Indeed, he was a busy man.
After Helen left, Rachel Foster hesitated, her lips dry as she struggled to speak. "Do you really... not recognize me?"
Kingsly Scott waited, his patience waning. "Miss Foster, you have three minutes left," he reminded her, smile intact yet stern.
Did she want to know if he had forgotten her? If he didn't remember, perhaps it was for the best.
She decided to drop the matter. "I apologize, Mr. Scott. My boyfriend, Jasper Reed, the head of Silverstone Holdings, has been falsely accused of illegal financing and detained. I hope you can assist us."
Titans Group, the largest real estate group in the city, invested in the prestigious Westwood Heights project a year ago, allowing smaller groups like Silverstone to buy shares. Kingsly, however, showed no interest in helping.
"Mr. Scott, Jasper is innocent. I only ask that Titans Group verify the legitimate funds transfer from Silverstone to 'Westwood Heights.' In return, I will forfeit Silverstone's shares and future profits in the project."
Kingsly glanced at his watch. "That level of profit doesn't interest me, Miss Foster."
"Mr. Scott..."
He interjected, "I sympathize, but I'm a businessman. I won't risk my company for a competitor. Every company has secrets, and I won't expose mine to someone irrelevant. Moreover, Silverstone's collapse would only benefit Titans Group."
His words were harsh but true. Rachel's face paled, her head drooping in despair. "I have no other options..."
Kingsly smiled apologetically. "I don't easily sympathize with others' misfortunes. I'm sorry."
"Mr. Scott..."
"Your five minutes are up. I have other matters to attend to." With a smile, he turned and left.
In the car ride home, Rachel stared vacantly out the window, her face pale. She couldn't dwell on whether Kingsly remembered her; his cold refusal echoed in her mind. She couldn't let Jasper go to prison.
As she entered the villa, Ivy Morgan rushed to her. "Rachel."
Seeing Ivy's worn face, Rachel couldn't bear to add to her worries. "I saw Kingsly Scott."
"And?" Ivy asked, hope and fear mingling in her voice.
Rachel smiled reassuringly. "He's considering helping Silverstone if we hand over the profits from 'Westwood Heights.' He just needs time to organize the accounts."
Ivy's face lit up with relief. "I knew it; heaven won't forsake our family..."