Rebecca Quentin nodded gently. "I don’t want to believe it either, but the police do have solid evidence, and a trial date for this case will be set soon... If we can’t find new evidence to refute the charges against Father, we’ll be left with only one path: ’Quentin’ will be auctioned off to compensate the victims."
Due to this sudden incident, Rebecca didn’t manage to leave.
So, the day after returning from the police station, Rebecca ignored Aunt Clare’s pleas for her to take care of her health and plunged into Alexander Quentin’s study and bedroom, desperately searching for any clues about her father’s connection to "Monica Landon."
Perhaps the heavens were compassionate towards Rebecca’s efforts. After turning her father’s bedroom upside down, she found a photo of him and "Monica Landon" hidden in a secret compartnt within the wardrobe.
Unlike the photo the police had shown her, this one clearly depicted an intimate relationship between the two. In this picture, Alexander Quentin, dressed in a white suit, was kissing "Monica Landon," who wore a pure white wedding dress.
At this mont, Rebecca was slumped on her sofa, her expression blank and her eyes filled with despair.
Aunt Clare moved to Rebecca’s side and whispered, "Miss, I told you not to dwell on this. After all, it’s your father’s past. Even if you discover the truth, what can you do?"
Rebecca furrowed her brows slightly. "Are you saying you actually knew all along that what the police found was true?"
Aunt Clare quickly responded, "Of course not. I don’t know much about your father’s past either."
Her gaze falling back to the photo in her hand, Rebecca pondered for a mont before suddenly standing up. She said sternly, "No, I can’t just convict Father like this... He taught how to be a good person ever since I was young. He’s so noble and loving; he couldn’t have had such a shaful past..."
Aunt Clare also stood up and said earnestly, "Miss, in my opinion, since your father has already passed away, just let the court handle it!"
Rebecca’s eyes widened. "How can I do that? This concerns Father’s reputation and the survival of ’Quentin’!"
"As long as we apply for a closed trial, how can your father’s reputation be tarnished? Besides, ’Quentin’ is already an empty shell; it’s not worth much. Why not let the court award it to the victims?"
"No, Aunt Clare! Father just passed away. I don’t want him to bear such a disgraceful accusation. And ’Quentin,’ even though it’s an empty shell now, he built it from the ground up. I may not be good at managing it and was planning to sell it, but with a new owner, it could still exist in the business world. If we accept the court’s judgnt, ’Quentin’ will just be carved up by the other shareholders and the compensated victims..."
Aunt Clare sighed. "Even if you know what will happen, what can you do?"
Rebecca calmly answered, "I know soone. He’s rich, powerful, and well-connected. He can definitely help find the best lawyer for this case and also investigate the connection between Father and ’Monica Landon’."
"Miss, are... are you thinking of asking Howard Geoffrey?" Aunt Clare seed reluctant for Rebecca to ntion this person, her voice tinged with suppressed fear.
"Yes. He can definitely help ."
Aunt Clare protested, "No, Miss! Howard Geoffrey isn’t soone you can rely on. He’s actually..." Realizing she had almost let sothing slip, Aunt Clare quickly corrected herself, "Uh, I an, weren’t you the one who never wanted to rely on him in the past?"
Rebecca gazed into the distance and said softly, "As husband and wife, I didn’t want to be too entangled with him. But as a friend, he’s the only one who can help now."
Having known Howard Geoffrey for two years, this was only the second ti Rebecca had ever called him.
The first ti was when her father passed away. She had been cornered by the heads of Shun Feng and several other companies, and she rembered calling Howard several tis without him answering.
She had to admit she was quite upset back then, feeling resentful, as if holding a grudge against him. After he didn’t answer her calls several tis, she simply stopped trying. Who doesn’t have a bit of pride?
Now, thinking back, her actions seed rather childish...
He was Howard Geoffrey, after all, managing the massive "Skytop Group," busy day in and day out. How could he have ti to answer unimportant calls all day? And her sulking—who would even notice, let alone try to placate her? If she had truly wanted his help, she should have swallowed her pride and called a few more tis. Having been husband and wife for so many years, and having parted amicably, he would surely have been willing to help.
So today, as she dialed his number for only the second ti in her life, she was prepared to call repeatedly. If he doesn’t answer today, I’ll call tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after, she thought. He’s genuinely been swamped lately. Work-wise, ’Skytop’ is apparently launching another major international project. And personally, of course, he needs ti for romance with Miss Christine. It’s perfectly understandable that he wouldn’t have ti for calls from unimportant people!
However, life was just that unpredictable.
Just when Rebecca had steeled herself to redial the number dozens of tis if necessary, the call connected on the very first try.
So, when Howard’s magnetic, pleasant voice sounded in her ear, she was stunned for a few seconds before awkwardly replying, "Uh, sorry to bother you. I... I have a favor to ask. It’s a bit complicated. I don’t know if you have ti, but I could co find you."
"I’ll be ho tonight."
His voice was actually quite gentle when he spoke to her, but it wasn’t the real him.
"Oh, then I’ll wait for you at ho," Rebecca replied automatically, then, realizing how inappropriate that sounded, quickly corrected herself, "Uh, I an, I’ll wait for you at *your* house."
He seed busy, replying only after a few seconds with a soft, "Mm."
"Alright then..."
He didn’t respond.
Dejected, Rebecca was about to hang up when she heard him add, "Run my bathwater." After he said that, the line went dead with a series of BEEPS.
Rebecca was dumbfounded for a long mont before she reacted. What? Why should I? He’s acting like such a big shot! I’m not his to order around anymore...
But as the saying goes, if you ask for a favor, you have to be prepared to pay the price. So, that night, Rebecca obediently stood by the bathtub, running the bathwater for a certain soone.
She grumbled to herself as she adjusted the taps...
This man was so incredibly particular. His house clearly had the most advanced temperature control system, yet he insisted on having the bathwater drawn manually. His reasoning was simple: no machine could adjust the temperature as perfectly as a person. Thus, for the past two years, preparing his bathwater had beco one of her duties as Mrs. Geoffrey, which was why she was so adept at it now.
After setting the water temperature, Rebecca went down to the first floor of the Geoffrey residence, sat down with a magazine, and patiently waited for him.
The butler approached her again. "Young Madam, perhaps you should wait for the Master in your room. He has been returning quite late these past few nights."
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