Summer shook her head. “Not really. Q City’s not that far away. Quince’s men have been loitering in the club frequently lately. I’m worried the employees wouldn’t feel too comfortable about that without a boss around.”
Without answering, Anthony made a U-turn at the next bend and drove toward the club instead.
“Thanks, Daddy,” said Summer. Then she gazed out of the window gloomily, saying nothing else for the rest of the journey.
We were caught in a traffic jam when we were just a street away from the club due to the evening peak hours.
I watched glumly as the numbers on the countdown indicator of the traffic light ticked down at a snail’s pace. Feeling restless, I decided to roll down the windows and gazed at the moving traffic on the opposite street instead.
Suddenly, I spotted Lucas’ face through the window of a black BMW whizzing along in the traffic. I instinctively followed the car with my gaze until it reached the end of the road and disappeared around the corner.
I was not sure if it was an illusion, but I somehow felt as if I had seen the woman who was in the car with him before.
“What’s wrong?” asked Anthony, sensing that something was up with me.
“I think I just spotted Lucas.” I pointed to the left. “He just went that way. I think he’s just been to the club.”
“I see,” Anthony responded shortly. With a slight glance toward the back seat, he asked, “Is everything okay at the club?”
Nodding, Summer gazed back at him innocently. Then, as if struck by a thought, she hurriedly took out her phone and checked through her messages to make sure she had not missed anything. Only then did she answer, “Yes, there were only a few trivial matters, all of which I’d dealt with before boarding the plane.”
Anthony merely responded with a nod and asked no further questions. Just then, the lights turned green, and the car started moving again, going at a significantly faster speed than before.
I snuck a glance at him. His expression remained indifferent, but I could sense a hint of nervous energy radiating off him.
We arrived at the club in no time at all. Stopping the car at the entrance, Anthony did not even bother removing the car keys from the ignition but hopped off the car at once and entered the club with us.
Seeing that Summer was back, her assistant came out to greet her at once. “Welcome back, Ms. Summer.”
Anthony moved past him and went straight in, his expression cold as ice.
It was his first visit to the place, but the assistant recognized who he was in an instant and froze unwittingly as he strode past, stunned by the powerful aura he exuded.
“Did those black men find trouble here just now?” Summer interrupted his train of thoughts.
“No, they didn’t even come today.” The assistant came back to his senses and flashed her a grin. “Only Lucas and a few of his guys dropped by earlier. Otherwise, there hasn’t been a single black guy in this area today.”
Most of Lucas’ men came from the mafia and carried fierce vibes. Their mere presence was terrifying, and the employees were always nervous around them. Naturally, they were happy and relieved that none of them had appeared today.
However, Summer caught the most crucial point of the assistant’s statement. She halted her footsteps, asking sternly, “What was he doing here?”
“He came to deliver our wine. Did the manager not report this to you?” The assistant was visibly surprised. He swiveled backward and yelled for the manager, “Ms. York? Are you there?” He turned back, puzzled. “That’s strange. She was just here a moment ago. I wonder where she’s gone.”
Seeing this, we all sensed that something was amiss.
Summer’s face darkened instantly, and she sounded exceedingly displeased when she spoke again. “What just happened here?”
As someone who was usually pleasant and agreeable, Summer rarely ever showed others this powerful and authoritative side of herself. Shocked, the assistant immediately minded his behavior and relayed the entire incident seriously.
“Lucas came here with Mrs. Featherstone to deliver the wine just now. He said you had agreed with it. We were initially reluctant to accept it, but Mrs. Featherstone said that we were all disrespecting her and was going to fire all of us. So Ms. York made the call and accepted the stock.”
Mrs. Featherstone?
I knew for sure that I had said none of those things.
Besides, I had been busy helping out in the club for the past few days. How could anyone have mistaken another person for me?
Slightly angry, I snapped at him, “Think carefully. Are you sure it was I who made you accept those wines?”
Hearing that, the assistant smiled flatteringly. “Oh, it wasn’t anything like that, Mrs. Featherstone. You’re always in a good temper and obviously wouldn’t have put us in such a spot. I was actually talking about the other Mrs. Featherstone.”
“Does she look a lot like me?”
I suspected it was Nora running about scamming others and being up to no good under the guise of being me. Since we both shared the same look, other than people who were close to us, no one else could possibly tell us apart.
“Huh? How is that possible? No, that Mrs. Featherstone wasn’t half as attractive as you. She looked like a cheap internet influencer at most—” Suddenly realizing that he had misspoken, he hurriedly changed his words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize Mr. Featherstone’s taste.”
When There Is Nothing Left But Love
I came to realize that listening to the assistant’s verbal report was more frustrating than I had expected, as his speech somehow never seemed to be going anywhere. It was no wonder that he had never been promoted to a higher position despite working with us ever since Wenville.
Fortunately, Summer was skillful in grasping the main point. “Where’s the wine now?”
“It’s in the wine cellar,” the assistant answered calmly as he stepped aside, allowing us to pass through to the basement.
Before Summer could even take a step, however, police sirens suddenly blared from outside.
In a moment, police cars flashing red and blue lights stopped at the club’s entrance, and a few uniformed police officers came out of them, making straight for us.
The police officer in lead flashed his badge and search warrant in front of us. His ID showed that his name was Horace Wicke. “This club is suspected of illegal trading and smuggling. We’ll need to do a full search of the place. Who’s the person in charge here?”
I immediately stepped forward, blocking Summer. “I am.”
In that instant, Macy’s disheartened voice suddenly echoed in my mind. It was hard to believe that after so many years, the same situation was repeating but on Summer this time.
I knew there was only one possible culprit behind such a dirty act.
After all these years, even after Summer had grown up so much, that woman still had not changed a bit and had no other tricks up her sleeves other than planting illegal goods on others.
The wine used in the club was expensive and worth an astronomical amount, considering the large bulk in store. They far surpassed the cost of the drugs planted on Macy back then. If the police caught us with those illegal wines, Summer, as the legal owner of the club, was bound to be taken away and detained.
Horace gave me a once-over and went on coolly, “Please cooperate and come with us as we search the place.”
Just then, the sound of cars screeching to a halt pierced through the air as several cars stopped at the roadside outside the club. The next thing we knew, reporters were swarming toward us with microphones held out.
Concerned with maintaining order, the police immediately blocked them from entering, and a huge crowd of reporters immediately formed at the club’s entrance.
“Mrs. Featherstone, what comments do you have regarding your daughter’s smuggling?”
“What a young age to break a federal law! Is it because she was raised abroad that she turned out so bold and uncouth?”
“Ms. Summer, did you choose to start your business in the entertainment industry because the pleasure-seeking nature of the industry appeals to you?”
“Can the police disclose the duration of the sentence Mr. Featherstone’s daughter is expected to face once this case is substantiated?”
The questions were endless.
Men and women, both young and old, waved their microphones and cameras at us madly, condemning Summer in the name of justice without knowing that they were, in fact, the greatest evil present at the scene.
“That’s enough!” I shouted, losing control. “What do you even know about my daughter? Who are you guys to comment on her?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply