NovelTrueDaly had just witnessed Rebecca's capabilities and was thoroughly convinced of her talents. He approached her,
clapping a hand on her shoulder, "Rebecca, darling! Your old man has full faith in you! I'm sure you'll bring glory
to the Morris Group. So, when are we heading over to AY Tech?"
Rebecca replied, "Leave the arrangements to me, Dad. You use this money to tide over the crisis for now. We
can't afford to lose our cool!"
Rebecca's bank account boasted over twenty million dollars.
Though not a staggering amount, it was sufficient to address their immediate concerns.
The rest, they would leave up to AY Tech.
Daly nodded, "Alright then, I'll head to the office right away."
Meanwhile, at the Christensen Group.
Sherman was reviewing documents at his desk when a knock sounded on the door.
"Cin," he called, without looking up.
"Mr. Christensen," said the secretary as he entered.
"Speak," Sherman urged, his words brief.
Standing respectfully before the desk, the secretary continued, "Mr. Christensen, I've found the two individuals
you asked about."
Sherman frowned slightly, closing the file in front of him to look at the secretary, "And who might these
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtindividuals be?"
"They are operatives under Alex," the secretary disclosed.
"Alex?" Sherman's eyes narrowed at the mention.
He recalled the last encounter with Alex at a gala, where Alex had presented Anthea with a gift. The image of the
two together irked him deeply. "What's Alex's agenda?"
"The operatives were assigned by Alex to ensure Ms. Yeager's safety," the secretary elaborated.
Sherman clenched the pen in his hand, "Alright, that's all | needed to know. You may leave."
As the secretary bowed slightly and exited, Sherman's brows remained furrowed.
Alex was a character of particularly dark disposition, unpredictable in his moods. Just two days shy of his
adulthood, he had personally taken his father's life! What was Anthea to him? Why would Alex assign men to
protect her? What was Alex truly aiming for?
Sherman dialed a number shortly after.
"Hello, Mr. Christensen," cthe voice over the phone.
Turning the pen in his hand, Sherman began, "Keep an eye on Alex."
"Monitor Alex?" The person on the other end was taken aback, even questioning if they had heard correctly. Why
suddenly keep tabs on Alex?
"Mr. Christensen, are we talking about Alex from the Peterson Group?" the caller sought clarification.
"es."
Understanding dawned on the caller, who then confirmed, "Understood, I'll make the arrangements
immediately."
After hanging up, Sherman returned to his documents, but not a minute later, he set them aside, reaching for his
lighter and a cigarette.
With a flick, the blue fllit the end of the cigarette, and he took a deep inhale, the familiar tobacco taste
filling his mouth.
Standing in front of the
floor-to-ceiling window, his
silhouette was that of a king overlooking his domain, an air of restrained nobility about him
The cigarette was soon finished, and Sherman found himself lighting another. Within less than ten
minutes, he had smoked through half a pack-a clear sign he was unusually agitated.
Cigarette smoke could be exhaled in rings, but the frustration in his heart seemed impossible to dispel,
especially with thoughts of Atex
plaguing his mind.
Then, his phone buzzed with a message.
Only a select few knew Sherman's WeChat, including close acquaintances and Anthea. Could it be Anthea?
Picking up the phone, Sherman saw | was indeed a message from her.
In that moment, the irritation vanished as he unlocked his phone and opened the message.
Anthea: "Have you been to the hospital? What did the doctor say?"
Was she showing concern for him?
Had it not been for her message, the matter might have completely slipped his mind.
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