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Chapter 94
Chapter 94
Clad in a sleek black ensemble, Everard cradled a copy of Emerson’s essays in his hands, his gaze intermittently shifting to the clock by the door. It was 7:30 already.
If Cordelia didn’t show up soon, she’d be late for class.
He gestured towards Calvert with a flick of his fingers. Calvert looked at him, confused.
Everard, with a hint of disdain, simply said, “Give me your phone.”
Using Calvert’s phone, Everard sent a text to Cordelia, “Where are you?”
After sending the message, there was no reply.
Everard glanced at the clock again, confirming the time was indeed 7:40.
He used Calvert’s WhatsApp to send a message to his account, and his phone buzzed instantly, indicating there was a signal. So why no reply?
After mulling it over, Everard took out his phone and sent a message, ‘Have you started class?”
Everard, known as “Mr. All–Round” on WhatsApp, always received instant replies from Cordella. She usually responded to him just as quickly. If she wasn’t replying, it meant she was in class. But still, there was silence.
By 7:50, Everard couldn’t sit still any longer. He looked at Calvert, “Get Skyler to trace her location.”
Calvert was internally rolling his eyes. The boss was overreacting just because Cordelia hadn’t shown up for a meal, but he quickly got in touch with Skyler and handed over Cordelia’s number.
Moments later, Skyler responded with a location: Lavish Luxury Lodge.
Why did she skip school to go to a hotel?
After a moment of contemplation, Everard stood up decisively. “Get the car ready.”
At Lavish Luxury Lodge.
The Delaney family’s car pulled into the parking lot, and Cordelia had barely stepped out when she was surrounded by several men in black suits. After Kermit emerged from the car with a chuckle, “Smart girl, not making a fuss on the ride over. After all, a car accident would’ve been unfortunate. Cordelia, take the easy route. Just have a pleasant breakfast with Mr. Wallace, and I’ll make sure you’re well compensated afterward!” Cordelia surveyed the surroundings. The parking lot was vast, dotted with cars of brands she didn’t recognize but appeared costly.
A good hotel usually meant a good breakfast. She mused, following Kermit towards the elevator. Once inside, she replied nonchalantly, ‘Just don’t regret it.”
Kermit, with a face bearing a resemblance to Sanderson’s but with a sly grin, said, “Regret what? Afraid your dad will come after me? Let me tell you, once it’s a done deal, your father will thank me! Marrying a man like Mr. Wallace is a far better outcome than ending up with some street punk.”
They rode the elevator straight to the presidential suite, stopping at room 1808. Kermit knocked on the door.
When the door swung open, there stood the so–called Calvert in a hotel bathrobe, eyeing Kermit and the girl behind him. Cordelia, in her school uniform with a high ponytail and a white cap, looked impeccably neat and particularly demure, which seemed to stir appetites.
Calvert swallowed hard before smiling, “Please, come in, Ms. Delaney.”
Before Cordelia could move, someone pushed her from behind.
Once Cordelia entered the room, Calvert shut the door and said, “Come, Ms. Delaney, let’s have breakfast.”
The door slammed shut, and Calvert’s henchmen couldn’t help but ask, “All good?”
Kermit waved his hand dismissively, “What could go wrong? She’s my niece! Besides, how much trouble can she cause? No way Mr. Wallace can’t handle her!”
Reassured by the thought of her frail appearance, they relaxed.
Then came a cacophony from inside the room, the sound of someone being flung against the door, which seemed to crack open, only to be promptly closed again, All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.
Listening to the commotion, they exchanged knowing smirks, “Quite spirited, eh?”
Kermit craned his neck, half–joking. “Mr. Wallace likes it rough? Just don’t hurt my niece. If she’s injured, I can’t answer to Sanderson.”
Laughter filled the air.
Inside the room, Calvert crawled towards the door, blood spilling from his mouth along with a tooth.
He looked back in horror to see the “demure and frail” Cordelia perched on the sofa, biting curiously into a sandwich, her eyes lighting up after a taste.
After finishing the sandwich, Cordelia stood up, seemingly oblivious to the man on the floor, and walked to the door.
She stepped out into the corridor where Kermit was stunned at her unruffled appearance. ‘That was quick?”
Cordelia glanced at him and paused, “Took long enough.”
“Oh, right.” Kermit looked her over, worried she might be hurt after such a ruckus. “How do you feel, Lia?”
“I’m fine,” Cordelia said, checking the time. “I need to get to school.”
She adjusted her backpack and hurried towards the elevator. Just a few steps away, she heard the panic–stricken voice behind her, “Stop her!”
Cordelia quickened her pace, hesitating for a mere fraction of a second between beating the men to the ground and rushing to class. She opted for the latter.
As she reached the lobby and was about to hail a cab, a black Audi pulled up in front of her. The passenger window rolled down, and Everard, in the driver’s seat, looked out at her, “Where to?”
Cordelia glanced at her wristwatch, “School.” She was late for class!
Everard said, “Get in.”
He was about to open the passenger door when he noticed Cordelia had deftly hopped into the back seat. Everard’s hand paused in mid–air before slowly retracting.
Oh well, playing chauffeur for Cordelia it is!
With that thought, he started the car. No sooner had the engine hummed to life than he saw, in the rearview mirror, several people rushing out of the lobby, clearly chasing after Cordelia,
His eyes darkened as he asked, “What brought you here today?”
“Somebody asked me out to breakfast.” Cordelia fished out her phone from her backpack; glanced at it, and noticed that Little Fang and Mr. All–Round had both messaged her. She texted Mr. All– Round, ‘I got held up with something and haven’t made it to class yet.”
No sooner had she sent the message than Everard’s phone chimed. Cordelia furrowed her brows, puzzled, and looked toward his phone.
Everard’s deep voice came through again, “Who asked you out?”
“Calvert.”