Chapter 11
1248 Words
The stress during that period was immense. My ears constantly buzzed, as if a hundred airplanes were taking off and landing. I went to the outpatient clinic and got a specialist appointment. The specialist said it was due to excessive stress and worried I might develop nerve deafness. She told me to relax, but how could I?
Life had already pushed me into an abyss, yet it seemingly wasn't enough; it kept throwing massive rocks down after me.
My mother's financial director, Ms. Lee, had run off. She reportedly misappropriated public funds for illegal lottery gambling and borrowed from loan sharks. After giving me a few tens of thousands from the books, she absconded with the rest. I rushed to the salon after getting a call from the cashier, finding the finance office in a chaotic state. The cashier, shocked by the turn of events, just sat there, crying.
I called the police, then asked my lawyer to find someone to audit the accounts. The deficit they uncovered made me gasp. The police were strict about economic crimes, but Ms. Lee had reportedly fled the country, making her capture seem distant. The worst part was that even if she was caught, the money might not be recovered.
After the previous troubles caused by Lucas Reed and his family, the beauty salon was already severely weakened. Now, with Ms. Lee's actions, it was a case of adding insult to injury, not far from closing down entirely.
Exhausted, I finally went home to sleep for a night. I barely closed my eyes that night, thinking about whether to sell the house.
When my mother bought this villa, she was incredibly proud. She told me, "When you get married, you'll be wed from this house. How grand and respectable that will be."
My mother hadn't had much education. Sometimes, I found her a bit unrefined. But she always tried her best to give me the best of everything in this world. Yet, prosperity and luxury, it turned out, were just reflections in a mirror, flowers in water.
The perpetrator, being powerful and well-connected, probably heard about my situation. Fearing I would demand enormous medical expenses, he immediately filed a lawsuit to request the removal of my mother's life support. When I received the summons, I truly felt cornered and disheartened.
In times of distress, people become incredibly vulnerable. Sometimes I thought about just ending it all. But then I'd quickly remind myself that my mother had overcome so much hardship; why shouldn't I live well?
But living meant facing all difficulties, solving all problems. The perpetrator's lawyer probably knew I wouldn't give up easily and wouldn't settle. His attitude grew increasingly aggressive. He even had a friend of my mother's convey a message to me, offering half a million dollars to drop the case.
I smiled coldly, asking the intermediary, "Would you be willing to sell your mother's life for half a million dollars?"
The intermediary knew we couldn't agree. He tried to persuade me, "Zoey, no one wants something like this to happen, but it has. We can only try to compensate as much as possible…"
"Nothing can compensate," I said. "All I want is for my mother to live well. I'd give them five hundred thousand, five million, anything."
Negotiations stalled. But the problems at the beauty salon piled up. Most importantly, I had no money.
Without money, the hospital would stop my mother's medication and all life-sustaining equipment. I finally put my mother's house up for sale. Soon, the real estate agent called, saying someone wanted to buy it.
"The buyer is very sincere. You know, villas nowadays are expensive, and second-hand, renovated ones are hard to sell. But this buyer is straightforward. He saw the house once and decided to buy it, didn't even haggle over the price."
"I want the full amount in cash, a one-time payment," I said.
"He said that," the agent confirmed. "You had already made that clear, so I told the buyer from the start. He said No problem."
I thought for a moment. "Arrange a meeting with this buyer. I want to deal with him face-to-face."
"Of course. Many contracts require your signature," the agent said, probably thinking I was worried about him fabricating prices. He patted his chest reassuringly. "Whenever you're available, I'll arrange for the buyer to meet, and we can sign the contract together."
"Tomorrow is fine," I said.
The next day, I drove to the real estate agency. The man who wanted to buy the house was unremarkable in appearance. He didn't ask many questions, simply stating he could pay immediately, in cash, upfront.
I studied him for a moment, then gave a cold laugh. "Go back and tell Alex Thorne that I won't sell this house to him, no matter what. He can give up that idea."
The man looked surprised for a few seconds, then smiled. "Ms. Vance is indeed perceptive. But I’m not sent by Mr. Alex Thorne. I’m sent by Mr. Arthur Thorne."
It was Alex's father again. I didn't know how many assistants he had, nor why he wanted to buy this house. I said coldly, "Anyway, anyone named Thorne, I'm not selling to them."
I stood up to leave. The man called out, asking slowly, "Ms. Vance, aren't you in urgent need of money? Why won't you sell?"
I couldn't explain my mindset. At first, I suspected the hidden buyer was Alex. I hadn't taken his check, so perhaps he felt guilty and sent someone to buy my house. But after learning the real buyer was Alex's father, I felt I couldn't sell to him either.
I didn't know what had transpired, but when Alex's father sent someone, everything changed. Alex wanted to break up with me – that was his weakness. I wouldn't be controlled by anyone. In front of Alex's father, I had a subtle sense of pride. Yes, my mother was nouveau riche, and I was her daughter. Perhaps I’d never be worthy of his son in this life, but some things, I could decide for myself. Like standing firm, not kneeling.
Even if I was desperate, I didn't think my mother would want me to sell her house to the Thornes. She, like me, had a stubborn streak. For those who looked down on her daughter, she'd rather die than deal with them.
The man saw my displeasure but smiled again. "Mr. Thorne is very keen to meet Ms. Vance, but he wonders if Ms. Vance is willing to meet Mr. Thorne."
He added, "Isn't Ms. Vance curious? Why Mr. Thorne wants to buy Ms. Vance's house, and why Mr. Thorne wants to meet Ms. Vance."
"Not interested," I said.
The man persisted, "Before I came, Mr. Thorne specifically instructed me that if Ms. Vance asked no questions and sold the house, I should just pay and transfer the deed. But if Ms. Vance guessed there was another buyer, then Mr. Thorne would be very willing to meet Ms. Vance. Ms. Vance, in this world, only intelligent people get opportunities. Why would you refuse an opportunity your intelligence earned?"
I didn't know what kind of person Arthur Thorne was, but his assistant was certainly persuasive. His threats and inducements were perfectly executed, making me wary. A true business magnate would naturally have his methods.
I looked at the man for a few seconds. "Fine," I said.
Arthur Thorne wasn't a tiger. I wasn't afraid he'd devour me.
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