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After another exhausting ordeal, Henry finally managed to bring Katy back ho—legally, properly, and safely—to Old Gary's apartnt building. Taking this beast abroad once had been more tiring than anything else he'd done. And on top of that, Charlize Theron's situation still weighed heavily on his mind.
Just as Henry was considering where to start gathering information, the flamboyant landlord ca knocking.
Standing outside the door, Old Gary cautiously peeked inside. Katy had her head lowered, busy devouring raw at in her food bowl—freshly delivered by the butcher.
Even though no one was ho most of the ti, Henry had asked Gary to help receive the deliveries and store the at in the freezer.
By now, Henry had switched to monthly billing with the butcher, no longer paying the delivery boy daily.
As for frozen at… well, for Katy, it was like eating popsicles. Once in a while, she enjoyed crunching on it with loud, satisfying cracks.
But doing that every day? Not a good idea. She'd start giving attitude—ignoring the frozen at and staring straight at people instead. A rather intimidating sight.
At the mont, though, Katy was focused on eating. Hearing the door open, she rely lifted her head and glanced at the newcor.
Gary didn't forget his manners. "Hello, Katy."
Katy licked the icy residue from her mouth and went straight back to her al.
Only after confirming he wasn't being targeted did Gary let out a sigh of relief. He then took out a scented envelope and handed it over. "Henry, soone asked to give this to you today. I think it's an important invitation."
The envelope bore only the na "Henry Brown." There was no wax seal like European nobility used. Henry simply peeled it open.
Inside was an invitation card made of high-quality patterned paper. It contained only an address and a signature—Jas Arden. Nothing else.
The border of the card wasn't decorated with common symtrical patterns like laurel leaves. Instead, it featured intricate lily-of-the-valley flowers, stems, and leaves.
And in Arica, lily of the valley was also known as the Mayflower…
That group?
The address, unsurprisingly, was in Montecito, north of Los Angeles—not part of L.A. County, but a true enclave of the ultra-wealthy.
The last ti Henry had gone there, he'd been tricked by two FBI agents into witnessing a Black state senator effectively orchestrate his own demise.
What kind of trouble awaited him this ti?
There was no ti specified on the invitation. Did that an he could go whenever he wanted?
"Who delivered this?" Henry asked, flipping the card over so Gary could see it as well.
"I don't know him," Gary replied, shaking his head. "Well-dressed young man. Said it was for you. I even told him I didn't know when you'd be back. He insisted you'd return today. And… well, here you are."
Only after answering did Gary put on his reading glasses to examine the card.
"Do you know this Jas Arden?"
"No idea," Henry said honestly. "First ti I've heard the na."
Gary nodded. "Whoever uses invitations like this… definitely not ordinary."
Then he suddenly rembered sothing. "By the way, where's Charlize? Didn't you two go on the trip together? She didn't co back with you?"
"She ran into so trouble. I had her fly to London or Paris for now while I sort things out here."
Gary frowned with concern. "Nothing serious, right? She's a sweet girl."
"It's fine. Her visa got canceled, that's all. She still has work lined up—I'll reapply for her. Just takes so ti."
"Alright then. You just got back—I won't disturb you." Gary turned to leave.
"Sure. When Charlize gets back in a few days, I'll cook sothing nice. Co join us."
Henry was once again using food as bait to win over his flamboyant landlord.
Gary imdiately perked up. "I want that—what's it called—the soy-braised pork tied with string."
"Dongpo pork, right?"
"Yes, yes, that one!"
Henry patted his own stomach mischievously and glanced at Gary's. "With your figure, aren't you worried about fat?"
"A life without fat is incomplete. Those people obsessed with turning themselves into Arnold Schwarzenegger will never understand the joy."
"Haha, I'll prepare it."
"Don't keep waiting too long."
"Deal."
Before Gary could leave, hurried footsteps approached. J.J. Harris, ever the dedicated agent, stord in and demanded, "What happened to Charlize?!"
"She already contacted you, huh." Henry stepped aside to let her in, while smoothly ushering the curious Gary away.
J.J. Harris, clearly furious, had forgotten there was a tiger in the house. She jumped slightly upon entering, then quickly chose a seat far from Katy.
"Explain. What happened? She didn't make it clear over the phone."
Henry handed her the invitation first. "Her P-3 visa was revoked. We'll need to reapply. As for who did it… I think you can guess. Most likely this person."
"Jas Arden? Who's that?" J.J. Harris read the card.
"No idea. First ti I've heard of him."
She brought the card closer, sniffing the faint fragrance—but it gave her no additional clues. However, when she noticed the lily-of-the-valley pattern, a troubling thought surfaced.
"…It can't be them, can it?"
"Who do you think?"
"The people who signed the Mayflower Compact—the true blue-blood aristocrats of Arica."
"They actually still exist? I thought they'd all died out," Henry said with mock surprise.
J.J. Harris replied, "In reality, they're like European nobility—maternal and paternal bloodlines all mixed together. Only they themselves keep track of it. Outsiders can't make sense of it.
"But why would they get involved here? They don't ddle in Hollywood. This place is too low-level for them. Has Charlize ever t this Arden? Is he after her?"
Henry shook his head. "If he wanted her, he wouldn't cancel her visa and keep her out of the country. This is probably about —and she got dragged into it."
J.J. Harris didn't like that answer, but she couldn't deny it. No one else would take on the trouble surrounding Charlize except Henry Brown. So she had no choice but to rely on him.
Henry didn't dodge responsibility. "I'll go et this Arden tonight and see what he wants. In the anti, help Charlize coordinate her work."
"I know." J.J. Harris stood to leave, but paused and turned back. "Can you actually fix this?"
"What do you an?"
"There's a difference between quietly resolving things before deadlines—and being upfront with partners that schedules might change. I need to know which approach to take."
"Be upfront. Put the bla on —co up with whatever excuse you like. Visa issues have to go through official channels. I can't guarantee she'll be back in Los Angeles tomorrow."
"…Alright. Got it."
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