Greg paused his question, his brow furrowing as he seemed lost in thought. Bradley's voice broke the silence, crackling through the phone's speaker. “Hello, Mr. Von Ritcher? I’m sorry, but can you repeat your question again? I couldn't hear your last question clearly.”Greg snapped back to reality, his mind racing to catch up. "Oh, it’s nothing," he replied, his voice steady now. "I just wanted to ask if it's true that the Bluebell Inn is really the best inn with nature surrounding it. I heard from one of the guests that this inn is renowned for its connection to the woods, even boasting a wide variety of rare plants that have medicinal properties."Bradley's voice, with its characteristic air of authority, resonated from the phone. “Ahh, that's true, Mr. Von Ritcher. The Bluebell Inn is indeed known for its unique connection to nature. They have received awards for their commitment to preserving and utilizing the natural resources around the inn. In fact, there was a plan to visit
—The Next Morning—The sun's gentle rays filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room where Greg and Dylan stood, bags packed and ready for checkout. Greg meticulously checked his belongings, ensuring that nothing was left behind.“Hey, Dylan,” Greg's voice rang out, breaking the quiet stillness of the room. “You didn’t forget anything, did you?”Dylan's response was casual, a confident zip of his bag accompanied by a shake of his head. “Nope. I think I already packed everything. I didn’t really bring anything except clothes and cigarettes,” he said.With their bags in tow, Greg and Dylan made their way out of their room, stepping into the inn's hallway. The soft sounds of their footsteps filled the corridor as they embarked on the process of officially checking out from the Bluebell Inn.As they walked, their path converged with one of the inn's servants. A warm and welcoming smile graces her lips as she greets them."Leaving already?" the servant inquired, her to
In the tranquil embrace of the village, where memories of loved ones found solace beneath the shade of an ancient tree, a new day dawned. The place, a serene highland sanctuary, cast a watchful eye over the village below, offering a breathtaking panorama of the surrounding landscape. A brand new BMW sedan stood parked nearby, a stark and curious contrast to the peaceful ambiance that enveloped the scene. Amidst the poignant tranquility, Jason sat on the grass, his gaze ensnared by a weathered photograph clutched fervently in his hand. The image portrayed a joyous little girl, her eyes radiating innocence, forever crystallized in a suspended moment of unadulterated happiness. A battle of emotions raged within him, a maelstrom of sorrow and frustration that words could scarcely convey. "My chance is only this time but I failed," he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of regret. He exhaled deeply, his breath mingling with the gentle breeze. "Well, what can I do? there's nothing I
Hours passed, and the luxury sedan glided to a halt at the airport. The sleek vehicle's soft hum dissipated as Bradley, his assistant, Greg, and Dylan emerged onto the tarmac. Bradley's composed voice cut through the air, resonating with authority and respect as he addressed Greg, "Mr. Von Ritcher, kindly await here momentarily. I shall oversee the arrangements for your flight." Greg met Bradley's gaze with a nod of understanding. "Thank you, Bradley. I value your assistance." With those words, Bradley and his assistant strolled toward the waiting private jet, leaving Greg and Dylan in the midst of the bustling airport. After Bradley left, Greg's mind, which still buzzed with the 'F' symbol immediately seized the opportunity, and discreetly snapped a photo of the cross with the 'F' keychain hanging in the car. Swiftly, he forwarded the image to his subordinate, along with a terse message instructing them to delve into its significance. Meanwhile, Dylan's gaze flickered between Greg
[Breaking News! A flurry of reporters has been spotted at Bluebell Airport, and you won't believe who they're chasing this time! It's none other than The Second Heir himself! Rumor has it that he's about to board a flight to Struggl City to oversee operations at one of the Von Ritcher companies. And it’s not just any company, but Behav—the pharmaceutical giant! And now the reporter was fighting to snap a photo of this genius second heir, who was also said to be the future Von Ritcher’s sole heir!] *** Mara sat in her usual corner at The Oldy Cafe, her gaze fixed on the television screen mounted on the wall. The breaking news segment had captured her attention, and her mind was abuzz with the implications of what she had just heard. “Oh… So The Second Heir is now works on Struggl, huh?” she thought before a waitress approached her table, placing a plate of steaming spaghetti aglio olio before her. "Here you go, ma'am. Enjoy your meal,” the waitress said with a warm smile. "Thank y
Greg's heart raced as the reporters closed in, their camera flashes creating a blinding wall of light. Panic surged through his veins, his mind racing for an escape route. There seemed no way out, no escape from the relentless pursuit that threatened to expose his hidden identity.Amidst the chaos, Rika’s words hung in the air, her eyes fixed on Greg with unwavering determination. “Hey,” she repeated, her voice firm yet calm. “I think I’ve got an idea. But… Do you trust me?”Greg's gaze darted from the advancing reporters back to Rika, a brief moment of hesitation in his eyes. He knew time was running out and the weight of the choice ahead was palpable. But in that pivotal moment, Greg realized that trust was the only choice they had left.With a quick nod, Greg mustered his trust and said. “I do. Please lead the way."A flicker of relief crossed Rika's features, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Good," she affirmed, her confidence unwavering. "Just follow me."Without another w
The interior of the Von Ritcher private jet exuded luxury and sophistication. Plush leather seats, sleek metal accents, and soft ambient lighting created an atmosphere of comfort and exclusivity.As the door to the jet closed with a satisfying thud, Greg and Dylan exchanged glances, each exhaling a sigh of relief.Dylan flopped into a nearby seat, his posture relaxed yet his expression still tinged with astonishment. "Well, that was quite the experience. I never thought we'd be chased by a thousand reporters today."Greg’s lips quivered into a wry smile, a trace of amusement in his eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been chased like that. I kind of forgot how it feels.”His words carried a mixture of nostalgia and self-deprecating humor. The memory of his younger days when he was often hounded by the media felt like a distant echo. The passage of time had transformed him from an elusive enigma into a discreet presence, skilled at evading prying eyes.Dylan chuckled, his gaze shif
As they resumed their discussion, Bradley's demeanor gradually shifted from one of intense remorse to a more balanced composure. The conversation flowed smoothly, ideas exchanged, and plans solidified for the future of the company and its projects. And then, in the midst of their conversation, Greg's attention shifted subtly. He glanced towards the open door of the private jet, a thought flickering in his mind. "So, Mr. Smith," Greg's voice carried a casual tone, "I've noticed that Rika isn't here with us. Is she attending to something else?" Bradley's brows furrowed slightly, his gaze following Greg's to the empty doorway. He paused for a moment, his response thoughtful. "Ah, Rika? Well, I don't know, but previously She mentioned something about checking on the arrangements for the flight and ensuring that everything is proceeding smoothly." he said."Is something matter, M. Von Ritcher?" Greg's lips quivered in a half-smile, his gaze still on the doorway."Oh, it's nothing major. I