Four Years Later
Summer nights in Northborough stretched on and on, the velvet darkness stitched with scattered stars.
At the Northborough International Convention Center, a charity auction was in full swing.
“And next up for bidding, we have a rare porcelain bowl from the late Renaissance period, restored just two years ago by Ms. Leilani. The craftsmanship is remarkable, and it took her over a year to bring it back to life. Tonight, she’s generously put it up for auction, with all proceeds going to our charity event. Bidding starts at three million.”
A paddle shot up from the crowd. “Five million!”
Heads turned in unison.
It was Pandora, the poised secretary, holding the paddle. Seated beside her was none other than Garry, the legendary magnate from the Westenmar Foundation.
Everyone in the room knew Garry’s reputation: an influential philanthropist with a particular fondness for antiques. Over the years, he’d made substantial contributions to heritage preservation, both at home and abroad.
When Garry set his sights on something, few dared to compete.
The room collectively assumed the porcelain bowl was as good as his.
“Eight million!” came a sudden call.
A ripple of surprise swept through the hall; such a bold jump in price was rare.
Clearly, someone intended to go head–to–head with Garry tonight.
All eyes zeroed in on the challenger.
It was Carl holding the paddle, seated beside Stewart.
Who in Northborough didn’t know Stewart? The city’s undefeated legal powerhouse, who’d taken the reins of The Wentworth Group just two years prior. Under his leadership, the company had surged ahead, dominating the green energy and technology sectors, ushering in a new era for the Wentworth empire.
A man who commanded both the political and business arenas–mention Stewart’s name in any elite circle, and even the most seasoned players would hesitate.
The stage was set: Northborough’s “devil in a suit” squaring off against Westenmar’s titan.
This was going to be a show.
Garry turned, sizing Stewart up.
Stewart, sensing the attention, looked over, their gazes locking across the aisle.
A slow smirk curled Garry’s lips. “Ten million.”
Pandora lifted the paddle. “Ten million.”
The auctioneer’s voice rang out, “Ten million! Mr. Ferguson bids ten million! Mr. Wentworth, would you like to counter?”
Stewart glanced at Carl.
Carl nodded, raising the paddle again. “Twenty million!”
The auctioneer nearly dropped his. gavel. “Twenty million! Mr. Wentworth bids twenty million! Will Mr. Ferguson respond?”
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Chapter 279
Garry grinned at Stewart, as if they were simply old friends chatting. “Since when did you develop an interest in antiques?”
Stewart’s tone was cool, his expression unreadable. “It caught my eye,” he replied. “And I don’t see a reason to let it go easily.”
“Always the gentleman, huh?” Garry’s smile widened. “Well, if Mr. Wentworth likes it this much, then I’ll bow
out.”
In the end, Stewart claimed the porcelain bowl for twenty million.
After the auction, Mr. Jacques, the host and director of the auction house, personally came over to thank Stewart.
“Mr. Wentworth, thank you so much for supporting our charity event tonight.”
Stewart shook his hand, his voice low and steady. “Ms. Leilani’s dedication to charity is admirable. I’ve heard a lot about her over the past two years. If possible, I’d love to meet her someday.”
Mr. Jacques offered a rueful smile. “I’m afraid that might be difficult. To be honest, despite working with Ms. Leilani on several occasions, I’ve never actually met her in person. I’ve invited her to many events, but she always politely declines.”
Stewart’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t press further.
As he left the auction house, Stewart caught sight of Garry.
Garry stood under the streetlights, dressed in an iron–grey suit, a cigar balanced between his fingers.
Carl had gone to fetch the car.
Garry exhaled a plume of smoke, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Stewart, it’s been four years and you’re still chasing shadows?”
Stewart’s expression remained icy, his gaze unwavering. “Garry, I suppose you need reminding–the three–year deadline has passed.”
Garry arched an eyebrow. “That’s right, this is the fourth year.” He flicked ash from his cigar. “Here’s some good news: I’m getting married.”
Stewart frowned. “To Rosita?”
Garry laughed. “That’s right. What, jealous?”
A cold scoff escaped Stewart. “Is this your new way of protecting her?”
Garry shrugged. “I never said that. The wedding’s next week–I’ll be sure to send you an invitation.”
Stewart’s eyes narrowed.
Having said his piece, Garry turned and strolled over to the black Rolls–Royce at the curb.
Pandora opened the rear door for him. Garry slid inside without a backward glance, and Pandora nodded respectfully to Stewart before taking the front passenger seat.
The Rolls glided away, disappearing into the night.
Moments later, a sleek Maybach pulled up.
Carl stepped out and opened the door for Stewart, who ducked inside.
Once Carl was behind the wheel, he asked, “Back to the office, sir, or…?”
“Southcreek Manor.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carl started the engine and headed out toward Southcreek Manor.
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Chapter 279
Twenty minutes later, the Maybach swept through the gates.
Carl opened the door for Stewart.
Stewart stepped out, issuing curt instructions. “Keep an eye on Garry.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And book a flight to Silverlake City for tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
The front door opened-
“Mr. Wentworth!” Jeannie, the housekeeper, emerged, her smile warm. “Irwin’s just finishing his homework. I heard the car and guessed you were home.”
Stewart acknowledged her with a nod, brushing past into the foyer.
Jeannie closed the door behind him and fetched Stewart’s favorite house slippers, setting them at his feet.
He changed into them and headed upstairs.
In the second–floor study, Irwin was diligently working at his desk. Now in third grade, he was a bright, conscientious student.
Stewart lingered at the door for a moment, watching silently, then quietly closed it behind him.
He returned to his bedroom.
Later, as Jeannie brought up a plate of fruit, Irwin had already finished his homework, but Stewart was gone.
