Chapter 71: An old Friend

Chapter 71: An old Friend Are you full? Is it his turn? Camilla had not yet recovered from the surprise. Sinclair had already picked her up, heading towards the upstairs. "Sweetheart!" The sudden sense of weightlessness made Camilla subconsciously clutch onto Sinclair’s neck. "What are you doing?!" Sinclair responded succinctly with a smirk, "Mm." "Mm?" Meeting Sinclair’s eyes, which seemed poised to devour her, Camilla immediately understood what the man was planning. Her innocent eyes widened in an instant. "Sweetheart, I’m tired." "It’s okay," Sinclair smiles lightly. "No need for you to strain yourself." In the room, The surface appeared serene, yet emotional currents were in turmoil underneath. ... No one knew how much time had passed before everything finally returned to tranquility. By this time, Camilla was as beautiful as a pear blossom after the rain, her voice hoarse. Looking at the gradually whitening sky outside the window, she bit hard on Sinclair’s shoulder in frustration. "Liars!" "Hmm," Sinclair gently stroked her long hair, allowing her to bite him, with tenderness filled in his eyes. "I am a liar." A man who has eaten his fill is always more agreeable. Such sincere readiness to admit his fault made Camilla unable to stay mad at him. She huffed, turned over, and her back faced Sinclair. "Baby, I’m sorry." The smile on Sinclair’s lips became increasingly affectionate as he pulled the girl back into his arms and began to softly coax her. "How about next time you tell me what to do, and I’ll just do it?" Camilla, who believes in losing anything but pride, chose not to reply. She now understood fully. Never trust a man’s words during such moments. Without noticing, Camilla had already fallen into slumber. Sinclair pulled Camilla into his arms, holding her tightly. During the many years before she appeared, he had always felt that the nights were too long. Now, he had a completely opposite feeling. He gently kissed Camilla’s forehead and slowly closed his eyes. The day after. In the suburbs of the capital city, within a somewhat old villa. The bright sun shone through the crystal clear window and filled the room. It brought warmth to the spacious room. "Uncle Joe, look," The man in the wheelchair stretched out his pale hand into the sunlight, a faint smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "The weather in San Francisco, it remains as clear as ever." As if the years he had been away, nothing had changed. "Sir," The scarred middle-aged man, Uncle Joe, was pondering something different. "If Sinclair finds out you’ve returned to San Francisco, he might..." "Might what?" The curve of Micheal’s lip rose more obviously, but the chill in his eyes grew colder. "Break my legs again? Or kill me once more?" He looked out of the window, slowly turning the prayer beads in his hand. "If it’s the former, I have no legs for him to break now, if it’s the latter, well, I’m somewhat looking forward to it." Uncle Joe pursed his lips, his eyes filled with unabated concern. "Sir," After a moment, he finally opened his mouth to change the subject. "The Luther Family’s birthday banquet is invitation-only, what should we do?" This time, after all, they were coming under the pretext of celebrating grandpa Luther’s birthday. "Of course, we seek help from an old friend," Micheal spoke indifferently. "Hand me my cellphone." "Yes, sir!" Uncle Joe was curious about who the ’old friend’ Micheal was referring to, but he didn’t ask any questions. He respectfully handed the phone over to him. Micheal dialed a familiar series of numbers, then held the phone to his ear. Hidden behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his narrow black eyes looked like a dark, crazed abyss. Calvin Group Enterprises. Calvin sat at the head of the conference table, absently twisting his pen, a characteristic smile playing on his lips. A studied masked the elegance and dignity he exuded. His well-defined features, radiating resplendent charm, were nothing short of exquisite. To an outsider, looking at Calvin would only suggest a privileged young man shielded by his influential family, here to gain corporate experience. However, those close to Calvin knew better. Beneath his twinkling, peach blossom eyes that always seemed to be smiling, lay a fierce and decisive temperament. The meeting was proceeding in an orderly fashion. The smile on Calvin’s lips remained the same, yet his gaze had turned icy. Everyone knew this was a precursor to his fury. Just as Calvin had put down his pen and was about to speak, A vibration from his mobile phone, placed to the side, startled him. The screen showed an unknown caller ID. The number of people in the entire capital city who knew his private number could be counted on one hand, and there wasn’t anyone unknown among them. How did this phone call get through? Calvin felt a strange sensation stirring within him, hesitating for a moment before he finally picked it up. "Who is this?" There was only silence from the other end of the line. Just as Calvin’s face began to show his annoyance, a soft male voice colored with a hint of laughter rang out. "Calvin, it’s me." Micheal?! Four simple words, but they caused Calvin’s pupils to immediately contract, his fingers gripping the phone tightly. How is he back?! The people in the meeting room who were observing Calvin, whose face had suddenly changed color, couldn’t help but show their surprise. Who on earth was on the other end of the phone? How could anyone make Calvin, who’s usually so adept at hiding his feelings behind a smile, react so dramatically? "I’m back in San Francisco," The man on the other end didn’t wait for Calvin to speak, but continued on. "I’ll send you the address, let’s meet up," His voice still carried a hint of laughter. "Keep this between us for the time being," he said. "I haven’t disclosed it to the others yet." Calvin had forcibly calmed himself and considered for a moment before voicing out. "Alright," he said. He hung up the phone, looked at the address in the text message, and proceeded to head out. "Dismissed," he announced. "Mr. Calvin," Alec, Calvin’s personal assistant, was quick to catch up after reacting. "I have to step out for a bit," he said, his expression inscrutable. "You don’t have to accompany me." Alec halted his steps with a puzzled look on his face. It had been a long time since he last saw Mr. Calvin in this state. Calvin sped away in his black Porsche. Just as Alec prepared to leave, he noticed Taylor’s figure. His complexion changed. Damn, Mr. Calvin had arranged to discuss cooperation with Mr. Taylor in the afternoon!! Taylor was already standing in front of him. "Mr. Taylor—" "Why are you waiting here?" As Taylor asked, he walked into the room with an indifferent expression. "Did the meeting end early? Is Calvin in the office?" "I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor," Alec shook his head. "Mr. Calvin just left." "He just left?" Taylor frowned. "Didn’t he schedule the meeting with me?" On professional matters, Calvin was usually reliable. "....Yes, Alec nodded and truthfully said, "Mr. Calvin suddenly received a call and left in a hurry." He briefly recounted to Taylor what had happened in the meeting room. Taylor’s fair brows furrowed. There weren’t many who could make Calvin lose his composure like this. "Do you know who the call was from?" "I don’t know," Alec shook his head. "It was an unfamiliar number." Taylor pursed his lips, a chill flashing in his deep gaze. An unfamiliar number? That was even more suspicious. San Francisco. A black Porsche drove quickly and steadily on the road. Calvin sat in the driver’s seat, his usually smiling peach blossom eyes filled with complexity. Memories of Michael slowly awakened in his mind. Micheal. He was brought back from the orphanage by Mr. Jonathan when Sinclair was just ten years old. Michael was three years older than Sinclair, with a stable personality, mature beyond his years. Most importantly, he learned everything exceptionally fast. He was one of the few who could keep pace with Sinclair. Seeing Michael’s potential, Mr. Jonathan trained him to be Sinclair’s right-hand man. Publicly, he was simply introduced as the orphan of an old friend. Michael himself was very ambitious. During the early days when Sinclair just took over the Luther Family, Michael was of great help. Even both Calvin and Taylor benefited from his assistance. It was the three of them, all of whom were trustworthy people. If it hadn’t been for the event five years ago, Micheal would have had a promising future. Everything wouldn’t have turned out this way. At this thought, Calvin sighed inwardly. His thoughts instantly returned to a special rainy night five years ago. The night was special because it was also the anniversary of Sinclair’s mother’s death. Micheal invited him and Taylor to accompany Sinclair for a drink. On a luxurious private yacht. The four were seated in the restaurant on the second floor. The pitter-patter of the rain outside the window added a hint of chilliness. The three didn’t say much, just took turns drinking with the gloomy-faced Sinclair. As the evening wore on, Calvin couldn’t keep up with his alcohol intake and was quickly drunk. Taylor was in poor health and absolutely couldn’t drink much. "Taylor, help Calvin back to rest." Micheal pushed up his golden-rimmed glasses, and spoke to them in a soft voice. "As long as I am here, it’s enough." Sinclair remained silent, continuing to pour himself a drink. "Alright," Taylor glanced at Sinclair, nodded slightly, and said with a smile. "You guys should also know when to stop. The feeling of a hangover isn’t pleasant." Then, he helped Calvin, who was clearly inebriated, to their pre-prepared room to rest. In the dining room, only the tumultuous Sinclair and the seemingly unfazed Micheal were left. Everyone thought that the night would peacefully pass like this. Who knew that in the wee hours, a sudden incident would break out. Taylor and Calvin, woken up by their subordinates, rushed over and were shocked by the scene. Sinclair’s eyes were slightly red, and his left arm had two knife wounds. He picked up Micheal by the collar with a chilling expression, slammed him against the wall, and started to punch continuously. Each punch landed on flesh, sending blood everywhere. Micheal tried to struggle, but it was futile. Seeing that Michael was already disfigured, Taylor and Calvin rushed forward with their subordinates. It took quite the effort to pull the two apart. "Tie him up," Sinclair’s eyes were slightly red, his voice exceptionally hoarse. "Turn around, head back to the Luther’s mansion immediately." While speaking, he picked up a piece of broken porcelain from the ground and without hesitation, cut his arm to stay alert. Calvin and Taylor, having experienced numerous family struggles from their childhood, naturally witnessed plenty of cruel tricks. Although Sinclair didn’t say anything, they could guess some things. The thoughts Michael had concealed for so many years shocked them. Originally, Sinclair intended to kill Michael, yet Calvin ultimately didn’t have the heart to do so. Despite his strenuous opposition, Sinclair still spared his life. He merely brutally broke his two legs, warning him never to set foot in town. That obscure matter, known only to them, was forever buried deep in their hearts. However, now, why did Michael suddenly come back again? Just as Calvin collected his thoughts, he noticed. A charming figure suddenly emerged from the alley around the bend ahead. Damn it! His pupils contracted, and he immediately slammed on the brakes. "Squeal--" Accompanied by the ear-piercing sound of the brakes, the woman in front of the car fell down.