When Warren Prescott saw Claire Xavier’s social media post, his first instinct was to scroll past it.
Until his peripheral vision suddenly caught a face in a group photo, and his finger paused, pulling the progress bar that was halfway down back up.
Then he clicked on the picture to zoom in.
In the group photo, Ashley Shaw sat in the backlight, yet it couldn’t hide her fair skin.
She wore an apron, her face lit up with a natural, relaxed smile, showing dimples on both cheeks.
So... she had such sweet dimples, something he had never noticed before.
Or perhaps he had noticed but had never cared.
Warren clicked into Ashley Shaw’s profile picture again.
Her profile was still just one line.
She hadn’t posted herself but had liked and commented on Claire Xavier’s post: Welcome to come and play next time.
Warren scrolled back to the social media post and also gave it a like.
His WeChat name and hers appeared together due to the like, and an unnoticed smile formed on Warren’s lips.
The car stopped in front of the Prescott family’s villa at this moment.
Warren long-pressed to save the picture, ready to get out of the car, but his gaze returned substantively to the photo.
He zoomed in with two fingers and saw a somewhat blurry but very familiar reflection through the kitchen’s glass door in the photo.
Was that... Cillian?
As if to confirm his suspicion, Claire Xavier’s social media post was updated with another.
Archie: @Ashley Shaw, too bad I came late and missed the lobster.
Warren’s mood immediately soured.
Her place, where he hadn’t been yet, but Cillian had entered.
Why should he?
"Young man?"
The taxi driver turned around, looking at him in confusion.
Warren snapped back to reality.
"Sorry."
He turned off his phone, opened the car door, and got out with a stern face.
As soon as he entered, Elder Prescott approached, but didn’t look at him, instead persistently glancing behind him.
"She’s not here."
"Oh."
Elder Prescott returned to his expressionless state, pausing only when he noticed the slap mark on Warren’s face, his gaze lingering momentarily in surprise.
"Your face..."
"She hit me."
"Serves you right!" Elder Prescott didn’t even ask for details, turning back to his chessboard.
Warren gave a bitter smile.
"Grandpa, am I really your grandson?"
"My true grandson wouldn’t trouble a girl in the middle of the night! It’s only Ashley, others might not care a bit about you! Don’t bother her again, do you hear?"
Elder Prescott’s mood also seemed like a rollercoaster.
When Warren mentioned over the phone that he and Ashley were at a hotel, he suddenly realized that one good way to keep Ashley close was to cancel her adoption and have her marry Warren.
Oh no, there’s no need to cancel the adoption now, as Ashley is already over eighteen and no longer needs a guardian.
It wasn’t until Ashley explained everything that he realized he was just an old man acting on his foolish instincts.
She didn’t even care to be called a Prescott daughter, so why would she care to be a daughter-in-law?
No, it was all Warren’s fault, he drove her away.
Elder Prescott glared at Warren with full resentment.
"Did you hear what I said?"
Warren appeared a bit innocent.
"It wasn’t me who called her, but the person with me..."
"I don’t care who it is! No bothering Ashley anymore! She already dislikes you enough. If you trouble her again, not only will she hit you, I won’t go easy on you either!"
Dislikes you enough...
Warren’s hands shook slightly at his sides.
"Got it."
If it happens again, Ashley Shaw might not care about him anymore.
He felt a bit regretful.
He shouldn’t have used that method to confirm if she still had feelings for him.
Too mean.
Such a bastard.
But without confirmation, he couldn’t let go.
He was just such a selfish person.
A despicable person he himself despised.
"I’m going upstairs to take a shower. Still need to go to the office later, won’t be chatting with you."
"No one needs your company anyway!"
Elder Prescott didn’t even look up, continuing to study his chess game.
He was replaying Warren and Ashley Shaw’s previous match.
...
Elsewhere.
The Lynch Group’s stock plummeted, with its market value halved in just two days, not to mention facing a tight market regulatory investigation.
Gavin Lynch was running around trying to contact various leaders, but they either didn’t answer or said firmly they couldn’t help, it was too big, and advised him to take a stand quickly.
Gavin Lynch sat in the car on his way home, fuming.
"Take a stand? What stand should I take? Should I directly tell consumers I’m a greedy and unscrupulous merchant?"
"All those scoundrels! When there’s no trouble, they all come asking for benefits, but once trouble arises, they all scatter!"
"I just refuse to believe there’s no way to handle this!"
His assistant timidly spoke up: "Chairman, what’s Chairman Prescott’s stance on this?"
Gavin Lynch’s expression softened somewhat, "He didn’t not pick up my calls, and has been trying to find a solution."
"So, was this really Young Master Prescott’s doing?"
"He said no, that Warren doesn’t have that authority, but I just feel something’s off. We’ve spent so much money, yet the news can’t be suppressed; unsuppressable news can only be Prescott Group’s media’s doing. So, first, let’s go home; regardless, I have to ask Rosalind for clarification. If it really was the incident at Rosalind’s banquet..."
Gavin Lynch didn’t continue.
Half an hour later, the car sped into the parking garage at the back of the Lynch family home.
Gavin Lynch got out of the car, face frosty, heading towards home.
Just as he reached the door, he heard Rosalind Lynch crying.
"Why? Why still no answer? What did I do wrong?"
"Stop crying, crying does nothing! Why not just go find him?" Jillian Lynch, the second daughter, advised.
"With the current situation at home, how can I go out? I have an online account with over 300,000 followers. If I go out, someone will recognize me, do you want to see me get attacked?"
"I didn’t mean that! Forget it! I don’t understand you adults’ issues, I’m not going to concern myself with you anymore."
Hearing this, Gavin Lynch’s heart sank halfway.
Warren Prescott was refusing to meet Rosalind.
This was not a good sign.
"Sir."
Coincidentally, a servant coming out to take out the trash came out, hurriedly bowing in greeting.
"Hmm."
Gavin Lynch walked in with furrowed brows, seeing Rosalind Lynch hastily wiping her tears.
Yet the more she wiped, the more tears flowed, as if they would never stop.
Seeing Rosalind’s useless behavior infuriated Gavin Lynch.
"Crying! What’s the point of crying? Does it help?!"
Rosalind Lynch jumped in fear, her tears also momentarily startled away.
Jillian Lynch, not wanting to get caught in the anger, was about to sneak upstairs but was called by Gavin Lynch.
"Where’s your mother?"
"She’s in..."
Before Jillian Lynch could finish answering, Mrs. Lynch’s voice came from a small room on the first floor.
"All triples, self-picked!"
Gavin Lynch’s anger reached its peak at that moment.
It was as if his feet were filled with lead, each step producing a heavy clunk.
"Thump, thump, thump."
"Bang—"
He kicked open the door, startling the four ladies inside into exclamations.