The only thing that still bothered her was Daniel. She never liked having him around.
"I hope you won’t bring useless people like them into my life again. Next time, I won’t be so polite."
"My wife, this is all a misunderstanding! Ashton can back me up!"
"That’s right! Mr. Wilson doesn’t have a fiancée. He didn’t even know Ms. Nelsen was coming. He’s totally innocent!"
"Absolutely. I’m always loyal to my wife. I’d never let anything ruin our relationship," Daniel promised firmly.
Chantelle let out a small laugh, then turned and walked into the office next door with Professor Cox.
Daniel instinctively followed her, but the door closed right in front of him.
He nearly hit his nose on it.
"Sir, I don’t think this feels right. Is Mrs. Wilson mad now?"
"Of course she is. No—she’s just jealous!" Daniel said cheerfully, sounding like a proud husband.
Ashton looked at him and couldn’t help but feel concerned.
He thought, Sir, you couldn’t even get through the door. I don’t think Mrs. Wilson is just jealous. Maybe it’s time to calm her down properly?
Roman needed fast cash for two of his real estate projects. To get it, he dropped his prices way below market value. In just one night, he pulled in ten million dollars.
Even though he ended up renting a place in the Ring Community, having that money in hand gave him some peace of mind.
To buy more time, he stayed focused and asked Kingsley to prepare for the upcoming auction.
The sad part was, he rented a big hall and sent out tons of invitations.
But on the day of the auction, not a single person showed up.
Roman’s chest tightened and his heart was pounding hard.
He had already poured tens of thousands into setting up the auction. If he couldn’t sell the project today, he’d be trapped in a huge debt.
"Sir, the auction’s about to start. Still no guests?"
"Kingsley, maybe there’s just heavy traffic. Let’s give it a bit more time." Roman tried to stay hopeful, but the sweat on his forehead said otherwise.
He’d been sweating since he started decorating the hall.
"When we first launched this project, no one wanted to invest. Now that we’re letting it go, no one wants to take it either. They’re all working together to corner me!" Roman dropped to the floor and didn’t bother how he looked. As he said that, tears began to fall from his eyes.
"Sir, don’t get too upset. Your health matters too..."
"How can I not be sad? I’m about to ruin the Bently family business... What a mess!" Roman cried.
As he wiped his tears, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
He quickly pulled it out and answered.
"Hello, is this Mr. Bently? Ms. Chantelle is interested in buying shares from Bently Corporation. She plans to purchase stocks worth one hundred million dollars..."
"One hundred million?" Roman repeated, stunned.
The moment Roman realized there was money on the line, he perked up.
And not just any amount—this was one hundred million. It had been a while since he’d heard a number that big with his own ears.
"That’s right, one hundred million," Calvin repeated on the other end of the line.
"Sorry, but which Ms. Chantelle are we talking about?" Roman asked, though a bad feeling crept into his chest.
"She’s Mrs. Wilson—Chantelle Bently. We call her Ms. Chantelle."
"It’s Chantelle? That brat?" Roman almost roared the moment he heard her name. "Is she trying to take advantage of me now that I’ve lost my money?"
He couldn’t hold back his anger anymore.
He’d been struggling for a while, yet that woman never offered to help him. It was like she was just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Now that he was on the verge of bankruptcy, she showed up and wanted to grab Bently Corporation right under his nose!
She’s a snake! He thought. Absolutely heartless.
"Mr. Bently, the whole of Easthan knows your current situation. Only Ms. Chantelle has the ability to put up a hundred million dollars in this industry. And to be honest, the Bently Corporation isn’t even worth that much anymore." Calvin replied in a calm tone but it sounded like an insult to Roman.
"You—!" Roman gritted his teeth in anger.
Roman almost vomited blood in anger after hearing Calvin’s words.
He was furious, but deep down, he knew Calvin was right.
Bently Corporation had only two choices left: go bankrupt or follow the law and pay off the debt.
Right now, if anyone offered to buy most of his shares, it would feel like a miracle.
But the only person who could do that... was Chantelle.
Not long ago, Daniel’s company had tried to buy shares from Bently Corporation. But back then, Roman felt just like he did now—as if someone was trying to use his weakest moment against him.
Now, after everything that had happened, the company’s value had dropped even more.
He wanted to yell into the phone, but he forced himself to remain calm and face the truth.
He fell silent for a moment and thought hard. Then he said, "Okay, I’ll agree to the deal. But I want Chantelle to sign it herself."
"I’ll check with Ms. Chantelle first. If she agrees, I’ll contact you tonight," Calvin replied.
After the call ended, Roman sat there, feeling a heavy sadness sink in.
Once he sold the last share of the stocks, it would mark the end of the Bently Corporation under his name.
"Sir, what’s wrong?" Kingsley asked softly, sensing something was off.
"Kingsley, let’s pack up. We’re not selling this project anymore," Roman said with a deep sigh as he stood up.
"What? Then what happens to us?"
"We’re selling the stocks. I’m letting go of the Bently Corporation."
The company was just an empty shell now, buried in debt. If he could walk away with some cash and that ungrateful girl was willing to take over, then so be it.
Roman told himself this was for the best. After packing everything with Kingsley, he even booked a restaurant to celebrate the so-called "good news."
After leaving the Charity Association, Chantelle still couldn’t shake off her heavy mood. It felt like a weight was pressing down on her chest.
She told Calvin to take her to Thea’s place. It was around dinner time anyway, and she thought she could have dinner with her and the kids.
She unlocked the door with the passcode and entered.