Chapter 77: The only opinion I care about is that of Sinclair Luther

Chapter 77: The only opinion I care about is that of Sinclair Luther Nightfall, in the capital city. "Thud!" Sandra furiously hurled everything on the table onto the floor. She had compelled someone to infiltrate Clara’s circle, revealing, inadvertently, her plan to use Tiffany against Camilla. Even if the Luther Family investigated the matter later on, they would never trace it back to her. Who would have known that Clara was as helpless as having a wimpy king - capable of botching an otherwise foolproof plan. Sandra grew angrier the more she thought about it, smashing more and more items. The meticulously decorated high-end apartment quickly became a complete mess. Unexpectedly, flying shards of glass happened to pierce her foot. "Hiss," Suddenly feeling a piercing pain, Sandra stopped her destructive rampage, inhaling sharply from the sudden shock. "Young lady!" The young man who had been silently standing at a distance hurried over, scooped up Sandra in his arms, and gently laid her on the sofa. "Thud!" Sandra’s face, adorned with exquisite makeup, still held traces of anger as she slapped the young man. "Without my permission, who allowed you to hold me?" "You’re hurt," The young man’s expression didn’t change. He fetched the medical kit from under the tea table, then knelt down and placed Sandra’s foot on his knee. "I’ll take care of it for you." His movements were meticulous and almost reverent. "I don’t need that," Looking at the young man, Sandra felt her anger inexplicably diminishing, and she kicked away the medicine box. "I want you to clean it for me." Karl had been arranged to stay by her side and protect her personally ever since she turned eighteen. Of course, most of the time he was also her amusement tool. "Okay," Without hesitation, Karl bent down and licked the blood from the wound on Sandra’s foot. The fleeting joy in his eyes was evident. Not only did Sandra’s action not insult him, but it seemed like some kind of reward. "You say," Sandra’s face became much more relaxed, supporting her cheek with her hand, looking disdainfully at the man half-kneeling in front of her. "How am I inferior to that wretch, Camilla?" "In my eyes," A solemn expression was written on Karl’s face, his eyes deep and obscure. "That woman, she doesn’t even measure up to the tip of Miss Porter’s finger." In fact, no woman could. This realization was born the moment he was brought to serve Miss Sandra. "Forget it, what’s the use in your eyes? What I care about is Sinclair’s opinion." Sandra didn’t care about Karl’s words at all, her brows knitted in frustration. "Tomorrow is Grandpa Luther’s birthday banquet, missing this opportunity, wanting to oust Camilla from Mrs. Luther’s position will be even more difficult." Her beautiful eyes which were full of malice squinted slightly. "It seems, I have to risk using another plan." A moment of understanding flashed in Karl’s eyes. Apparently, he knew what Sandra meant by another plan. "Rest assured, Miss," Karl spoke in a deep voice. "This time I will take action personally. There will absolutely be no mistakes." "It better be, otherwise, you might just as well be dead. Don’t ever approach me again," Sandra snorted coldly, taking a casual glance at the time. "I’m retiring to rest now, make sure to clean up before you leave." Karl nodded respectfully. In his gaze as he watched Sandra’s retreating figure, was a deep and subtle infatuation. The night grew darker. Yet, there were always some places, unaffected by it. In a secluded high-end bar somewhere in San Francisco. Two equally significant men were sitting face to face. "Go ahead," Taylor looked at Calvin with a calm voice. "What happened?" Calvin usually cracks a smile when there are things to deal with, or without any reason at all. His current somber look is a rare sight. "The night is long, and I just wanted some company to drink with," Calvin arched an eyebrow, sliding the filled glass toward Taylor with a faint smile. "What else could it be?" He raised his own glass, clinking it lightly against Taylor’s before downing it in one go. Yet, despite the curve of his lips, there wasn’t a trace of warmth in his slightly narrowed, peach-blossom eyes. "If you won’t say it, then let me guess," Taylor narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decipher something from Calvin’s languid gaze. "Got dumped by that girl from the other day?" "Exactly," Calvin smirked, pouring himself another drink. "Finally decided to open my heart, only to get tossed aside. That’s why I called you out—to drown my sorrows." "Sounds like something worth celebrating," Taylor didn’t call him out, merely swirling the wine in his glass. "By the way, what was that girl’s name again?" Calvin’s hand holding the wine glass paused for the briefest moment before he smoothly recovered, offering a practiced smile. "Naomi." "Wrong," Taylor replied without missing a beat, his expression unreadable. "Her name is Cindy." Calvin: "Seems I guessed incorrectly," Taylor mused, raising his glass and downing the remaining wine in one smooth motion. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Unless... it’s about the woman who answered your private phone this afternoon?" A private phone—for men like them—was an absolute boundary. No one, aside from themselves, was ever permitted to touch it. Precisely because of that, hearing a woman’s voice on the other end of the line had caught him completely off guard. *Cough—cough—* Calvin choked on his drink, the alcohol burning his throat as he struggled to regain his composure. After a moment, he finally caught his breath and shot his friend a glare. * *"It really was just an accident."* * He briefly explained to Taylor how he had accidentally hit Tiffany with his car, rushed her to the hospital, and left his phone behind in the process. * *"That direction leads to the outskirts of the city."** Taylor seized the key detail in his friend’s words, a faint suspicion already forming in his mind. **"So, Calvin—what exactly is out there? Or rather... who?"** He poured himself a full glass of wine but didn’t drink immediately. Instead, his calm yet inscrutable gaze settled on his friend. **"What—or who—could be important enough for you to cut short a board meeting and postpone our collaboration just to rush over there?"** Calvin froze for a moment before exhaling in resignation. After all these years, they knew each other too well. Some things couldn’t be hidden, no matter how hard one tried. He lit a cigarette, the corners of his lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. "You figured it out?" Had it not been for that earlier phone call, Taylor might have guessed even sooner. After all, there weren’t many people—or things—that could unsettle Calvin. Taylor’s eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "Micheal?" Though phrased as a question, there was no mistaking the certainty in Taylor’s tone. Since Taylor had already guessed, Calvin saw no point in hiding it. His captivating peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah." Pale wisps of smoke curled upward from his lips, only to dissolve into the air in lazy rings. "Micheal... seems different now." Calvin recounted his encounter with Micheal that afternoon, including their conversation, while Taylor listened in silence, his gaze lowered. Once Calvin finished, Taylor finally spoke, his voice calm and laced with quiet amusement. "Actually, I think there’s one thing about him that hasn’t changed at all." He paused before continuing. "He still has a knack for reading people." Whether Micheal had sought Calvin out or the other way around, he had likely already calculated every move in advance. "Can’t argue with that," Calvin admitted, exhaling another slow stream of smoke before turning to his friend. "So, Taylor... if it were you, what would you do?"