Grandfather Jacobs knew his grandson all too well.
The moment he saw Silas didn’t immediately fly off the handle, Jacobs knew there was a chance this could work.
’Good, good, good. The Grant Family of Sudleigh is a great match!’
’Ariana Grant is a poor child, too. Once she marries into the family, I’ll be sure to dote on my new granddaughter-in-law.’
And just like that, after spending over half a month in the hospital, Jacobs was discharged in high spirits.
But his good mood didn’t even last two days before Silas Jacobs was caught up in another scandal.
He was seen on a late-night stroll with a popular young model, they checked into the same five-star hotel, and then they were spotted leaving separately the next day.
Silas Jacobs was busy with something else at the time. A top male singer under his label wanted to start a new project, and Silas was helping him with it, leaving him no time to pay attention to tabloid gossip.
So, the moment he got home and called out, "Grandpa," he was met with a torrent of blows from Jacobs’s cane.
A beating was one thing, but to make matters worse, Jacobs had worked himself into such a state that he ended up back in the hospital.
As a result, Silas Jacobs was treated to a second beating, this time from his own father.
It finally dawned on Silas Jacobs—someone was deliberately targeting him!
Because of his grandfather’s poor health, he had already paid off the paparazzi. There was no way he should have been showing up on the front page of the tabloids.
’Besides the paparazzi, who else would dare to come after me, Silas Jacobs, so openly?’
He gritted his teeth in anger.
After a quick investigation, the culprit was, as expected, Owen Rhodes.
A frustrated Silas Jacobs went to the Qillian Club to vent to his buddies.
"Julian Chandler, you tell me! Haven’t I been nothing but loyal to the guy? And he goes and stabs me in the back!"
Julian Chandler rolled his Buddhist prayer beads and said, "Owen isn’t an unreasonable person. Did you do something to tick him off again?"
"Hey! Whose side are you on? You traitor."
He glared at Julian Chandler, then turned to Wyatt Keating. "Keating! Get me a lawyer. I’m suing Owen Rhodes for slander and defamation! I had absolutely nothing to do with that model!"
Wyatt Keating lit a cigarette, his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses sharp and uncompromising. "You didn’t take a stroll with her?"
"We were just heading in the same direction, so we walked together for a bit!"
"You didn’t stay at the same hotel?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know she was staying there too?!"
"You didn’t leave one after the other?"
"I never even saw her again after that!"
"So where’s the slander and defamation?"
"..." Silas Jacobs downed his drink in one gulp. "That’s it! I’m done with you guys!"
Julian Chandler said, "President Jacobs, the door is that way."
The Qillian Club was Julian Chandler’s turf.
Silas Jacobs was speechless.
Just then, Wyatt Keating offered a piece of advice. "Think hard. Did you say something you shouldn’t have?"
Silas Jacobs said indignantly, "How could I possibly—"
’Wait, maybe I did...’
The moment Wyatt Keating saw him trail off, he knew the idiot couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
Silas Jacobs dropped the bravado, scratching his short hair. "I didn’t say anything crazy... Besides, it’s not like she’s a stranger, right?"
Wyatt Keating’s sharp gaze swept over from behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "Who is ’she’?"
"...Uh, Stella Sterling’s best friend, Ariana Grant..."
"What all did you say?"
Silas Jacobs hemmed and hawed for a moment before finally confessing that he’d gotten drunk and told Ariana Grant about Owen Rhodes’s unforgettable past love.
After hearing this, Julian Chandler immediately scooted his chair far away. "President Jacobs, perhaps you should head home? I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire."
Silas Jacobs lunged forward and grabbed Wyatt Keating’s arm, wailing, "Keating, save me, save me, save me!"
"Why don’t you just kill yourself to atone?"
"Does it really have to come to that?"
Wyatt Keating frowned. "Get off me. Don’t get snot on my clothes."
Silas Jacobs scrambled off him but continued to plead, "Keating, save me! I’ll give you anything you want!"
Wyatt Keating glanced at him. "Anything?"
Silas Jacobs crossed his arms over his chest. "Except for my body."
"Then go die."
"Anything! Anything is fine!"
A flicker of satisfaction showed in Wyatt Keating’s eyes. "Owen and his wife still don’t know each other well. If you could give them something to talk about, it might help your case."
"Damn, where am I supposed to..." His alcohol-addled brain suddenly sparked. ’Wait, I actually have something!’
Not long after, Owen Rhodes arrived, and Silas Jacobs immediately dropped into a dramatic, sliding kneel.
After a torrent of tears and a heartfelt apology, he sincerely offered up a plan. Only then did Owen Rhodes finally accept the drink Silas Jacobs offered him in toast.
...
It was almost eleven o’clock when Owen Rhodes returned to Lanthos Bay.
Since getting married, Owen Rhodes rarely came home after midnight.
When he walked into the bedroom, it was pitch-black—Stella Sterling wasn’t there.
He went up to the third floor and, sure enough, the lights in the art studio were on.
He didn’t disturb her. After showering, he prepared a walnut egg custard and carried it up to the third floor.
Stella Sterling had been rushing to meet a deadline for the past few days, holing herself up in the studio day and night.
Sometimes when he came by, he’d find Stella spacing out. Other times, she’d be painting. Sometimes, unhappy with her work, she would complain to the succulents on the low shelf. And sometimes, she was so exhausted she’d fall asleep right on the sofa...
Tonight, as he came upstairs with the walnut egg custard, Stella was on the phone with Ken. She was saying she wasn’t happy with her painting and asking him to negotiate a deadline extension with the client.
Only after hanging up with Ken did Stella realize Owen Rhodes had arrived.
The small coffee table they had used when they drank together hadn’t been moved, so Owen Rhodes placed the tray on it. "Hungry? Have something to eat first."
Ever since her accidental confession that night, she had been avoiding Owen Rhodes, whether consciously or not.
Her mouth had uttered "I like you" before her brain caught up, and once she was clear-headed again, she was thrown into a state of confusion.
Since she had a deadline to meet anyway, she used it as an excuse to stay holed up in her studio.
’Owen Rhodes hasn’t disturbed me at all until now. He must be here for a reason.’
Stella sat down. "Okay. I am a little hungry, actually."
Stella was quiet when she ate, chewing slowly and deliberately. It was a pleasant sight to behold.
When he saw she was nearly finished, Owen Rhodes finally spoke. "Stella, would it be all right if I asked you something?"
Stella nodded. "Go ahead."
"Do you know an artist named Umi? I hear she recently won an international award."
Stella’s hand, holding the spoon, paused. She looked up at him. "Why do you ask?"
"Silas Jacobs has an artist named Zion Shawcross, a top male singer. I heard he wants to collaborate with Umi for his new album, but he hasn’t been able to get in touch with her. He asked me to help ask around."
’Stella had always known Silas Jacobs and Owen Rhodes were close, and Silas had helped her out before. It was only right to return the favor,’ she thought.
Stella said, "I know her."
Owen Rhodes nodded with a smile. "That’s great. Could you send me her contact information? I’ll have Silas get in touch with her."
The next second, Stella said, "I am Umi."