The decision to allocate 6 million Dollars appeared straightforward, with Jonathan entrusted to oversee all subsequent details. Charlie Lee and Lawrence felt assured in this delegation—if Jonathan couldn't manage such a minor task, how could they trust him with 150 million?
At the close of their discussion, Charlie Lee prepared to leave when a lady "accidentally" collided with him. Observing her movements closely, Charlie noticed that although he tried to sidestep her, she altered her course to ensure the collision.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry…" she exclaimed, her tone carrying a mix of contrition and something more intentional.
Charlie observed the wine stain spreading across her chest. "Madam, are you all right?" he asked, his voice laced with subtle irony.
The woman, dressed in a flowing blue skirt and white high heels, exuded elegance, with a face radiating gentleness that suggested she was the picture-perfect homemaker. However, Charlie suspected that her graceful demeanor masked deeper motives.
"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I just wanted to express my gratitude, but I seem to have made a mess of things," she said, her expression tinged with regret.
"Just call me Charlie," he replied, casually flicking the wine droplets from his hand. Glancing around, he looked for the companion who had accompanied him earlier.
"If you don't mind, Charlie, perhaps you could come to my room to change your clothes? I'll have the staff clean up quickly," she offered, her invitation leaving little to interpretation.
Lawrence, observing the exchange, smirked knowingly. "Charlie, seems like your luck's turning tonight," he teased.
"Mind your own business," Charlie shot back with a grin before turning his attention to the woman. He nodded in agreement, signaling his acceptance of her offer.
As they ascended in the elevator, Charlie asked, "You mentioned wanting to thank me. Why is that?"
"McDonald's," she replied with enthusiasm. "I was one of the first employees hired when the local branch opened. Because of you, I've been able to lead a decent life. I've always wanted to thank you."
Her excitement was palpable, though her soaked blouse left little to the imagination, the thin fabric clinging to her form.
"Well, that's nice to hear," Charlie said, averting his gaze to maintain composure.
"No, you don't understand," she interjected, her tone earnest. "If it weren't for McDonald's, I don't know how I would've survived."
The elevator doors opened, and she led him down the corridor. "My room is 535," she said, her voice soft yet inviting. Her proximity left little room for ambiguity as she pressed herself subtly against him.
Inside her room, the atmosphere grew charged. Charlie didn't miss the glint in her eye as she removed her wedding ring and provocatively remarked, "Doesn't that make things more exciting?"
Temptation gave way to instinct, and the evening unfolded with an intensity that neither could deny. The battle of wills and desires played out until the early hours of dawn.
The next morning, Charlie felt invigorated after the eventful night. He treated her to breakfast at the Ritz Hotel before his bodyguard escorted her back to her residence near Lincoln Park.
"Miss Lima, shall I see you to the door?" the bodyguard asked politely.
"No, thank you," she replied, her tone light as she adjusted her hat and walked toward her house with a spring in her step.
Unbeknownst to her, her drunken husband, Fowles, emerged from the house, clutching a bottle and shouting incoherently.
"Where were you all night, you—" his slurred words trailed off as he stumbled toward her.
Lima quickly ushered him back inside, determined to avoid a public spectacle. However, Fowles broke free and, in his inebriated state, flung the bottle toward the bodyguard standing by the car.
Reacting swiftly, the bodyguard reached for his weapon and shot the bottle mid-air, shattering it harmlessly. The commotion drew the attention of neighbors, who peered from their windows.
Moments later, two mounted police officers arrived. Guns drawn, they demanded that the bodyguard drop his weapon. Calmly, he complied, raising his hands and identifying himself as a special guard from the Aegis Bureau.
After verifying his credentials, the officers relaxed, but not before Fowles, emboldened by their presence, began shouting accusations.
"He's trespassing! He tried to kill me! I want to sue him!" Fowles bellowed.
The bodyguard remained unfazed. "Mr. Fowles, I was standing on public property. There are no warning signs indicating private land. I suggest you reconsider."
Despite his outburst, the officers sided with the bodyguard, warning Fowles of the futility of pursuing legal action against someone with powerful connections.
As the police departed, Fowles turned his anger toward Lima, who finally snapped.
"Yes, I was with another man last night!" she shouted. "And do you know why? Because I'm tired of cleaning up after your mess! While you drink yourself into oblivion, I've been the one keeping this household afloat. Everything—this house, your liquor—it's all because of me!"
Her voice cracked with frustration as she continued, "If you can't handle the truth, pack your things and leave. Go join the other drunks in the park."
Fowles, stunned into silence, watched as Lima walked away, her head held high.
Back at the Ritz Hotel, Charlie reflected on the events of the past 24 hours. For him, the night had been another fleeting encounter, but for Lima, it marked a turning point—one that allowed her to reclaim her sense of self-worth and begin anew.