The annual gala of the esteemed White Group was a truly grand affair. Even the mayor of White City graced the event with his presence. It was only fitting, considering the tremendous contributions the White Group had made to the city’s economic development.
As their car pulled up, Dolores caught sight of a magnificent banner adorning the entrance of the hotel. The parking lot was filled with cars, most of which belonged to White Group employees.
Charles’s assistant, Tom, briskly approached and opened the door. He pushed the wheelchair alongside the driver. “Mr. White, the mayor has arrived.”
Charles responded nonchalantly, glancing back as Dolores made her way over. Tom, understanding the situation, stepped aside and allowed Dolores to take over the wheelchair.
She firmly grasped the handle and skillfully guided Charles into the hotel.
Inside the lobby, a resplendent crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a radiant glow upon the entire area.
The senior executives of the White Group were engaged in conversation with the mayor. Upon Charles’s arrival, they instinctively made way for him. Charles put on a congenial smile and, before reaching the mayor, jovially exclaimed, “Apologies for my slight tardiness.”
A passing waiter caught his attention, and Charles gestured for him to stop. He plucked a glass of liquor from the tray. “Let me take three shots as a penalty.”
After downing the first glass, he set it down and poured himself another. He swiftly consumed the second shot. As he gulped down the third, the mayor finally spoke up, “While you must indeed take the penalty of three shots, we all understand.”
The mayor’s gaze shifted subtly, laden with meaning.
Charles’s expression remained unchanged. With a smile, he remarked, “We all know the tale of ‘The Tortoise and the Hare.’ But why did the tortoise win the race? I believe I may be that hardworking tortoise. I may be late, but I must pay the penalty.”
His words carried profound implications: despite his physical limitations, he had triumphed.
No matter who one is, as long as they work diligently and achieve success, they are winners.
On the other hand, even if a hare is blessed with favorable conditions, if they become complacent and fail to put in the effort, what will be their fate?
Having delivered his words, Charles polished off the third shot without flinching.
The mayor, donned in a black Chinese tunic, sported wrinkles on his face-a testament to the ups and downs he had experienced in life. He burst into laughter, instantly dispelling any lingering discontent about Charles’s tardiness.
He admired Charles’s wisdom.
Casually, his eyes fell upon Dolores, who stood behind Charles. Momentarily taken aback, he then turned to Charles and asked, “Is this lady your girlfriend?”
Everyone knew that Charles had never been married nor had he ever had a girlfriend. If Charles were not physically impaired, the mayor would gladly offer his daughter’s hand in marriage to him.
Indeed, apart from his disability, the mayor held Charles in high regard, appreciating both his appearance and capabilities.
Given that Charles had brought a companion to the annual gala, the mayor subconsciously assumed Dolores to be his girlfriend.
After all, it was the White Group’s prestigious event, and if Charles could introduce a woman to his employees, it signified his high regard for her.
Furthermore, Charles’s physical limitations did not render him devoid of desires. He was a normal man who, like anyone else, desired companionship.
Charles glanced back at Dolores, smiling, but before he could respond, Dolores interrupted, “We’re friends.”
She did not wish to dwell on the matter.
However, she also did not want to embarrass Charles in front of others. Patting him on the shoulder, she assumed the role of a close friend. “He told me he didn’t have a date tonight, so he asked me to accompany him. I couldn’t refuse. As his close friend, I had to be here.”
The mayor erupted in laughter once again. “I thought Mr. White, perpetually single, had finally found his Miss Right. It seems I misunderstood.”
Charles smiled at him, gracefully navigating the social dynamics, while discreetly stealing a glance at Dolores.
Dolores, feigning ignorance, played along. Although she had agreed to attend the gala with him, she refused to relinquish control of the situation. She intended to maintain the upper hand.
After conversing with Charles for a few more minutes, the mayor instructed his secretary to hand Charles a document.
As Charles received it, he discovered that his application for the land he desired had been approved. Charles had sought to establish a factory outside White City, in a city directly overseen by White City. Thus, he had submitted the application.
Naturally, the mayor hoped that Charles would choose to establish the factory within White City’s jurisdiction. Such a move would not only boost the city’s economy but also help retain the foreign population. Factories inevitably required workers, and the growth of a city relied heavily on its local enterprises.
As the city mayor, burdened with the responsibility of shaping the future of his city, he carried a weighty load on his shoulders. Undoubtedly, he was reluctant to let go of any valuable talent.
Outside the hotel, two sleek black SUVs pulled up. Boyce was the first to step out. Observing the license plate adorned with five zeros on a car parked by the pond, he glanced towards the hotel lobby. “The White Group certainly holds considerable influence in this city.”
Typically, a car with such a license plate belonged to a person of high authority, perhaps even the mayor.
Matthew’s black attire had become slightly wrinkled after enduring a long journey in the vehicle. Both he and Boyce had spent the day searching for clues but had found no trace of Dolores.
Their visit to White City had yielded no results.
Dark circles had formed under Matthew’s eyes, a testament to his growing anxiety over their inability to locate Dolores. He feared that Sampson had already moved her elsewhere.
“Let’s take the stairs,” Boyce suggested. By ascending via the staircase, they could bypass the lobby altogether, avoiding the bustling crowd around the elevators.
They made their way upstairs outside the lobby, utilizing the staircase.
In recent days, as their search for Dolores had yielded no progress, Matthew’s spirits had plummeted. In Boyce’s presence, he became noticeably more guarded.
He couldn’t help but wonder about Armand’s whereabouts. It had been several days since they had expected his arrival.
Matthew wondered if Armand had encountered difficulty in locating them.
Boyce had sent him the precise location.
If Armand arrived, they would share the burden with Matthew.
As time passed without any leads on Dolores, Boyce grew increasingly restless, not to mention Matthew.
During the past few days, aside from caring for the children, Matthew had remained as cold and unyielding as an ice sculpture.
Boyce found himself perpetually on edge in Matthew’s presence.
If not for the lack of a better option in town, Matthew wouldn’t have continued staying at this hotel. The noise levels were intolerable.
Boyce followed Matthew into the staircase. “I spoke with the hotel manager-they assured me it’s just for today. The White Group is hosting their annual party here, so it’s only natural that it takes place in their own hotel.”
Matthew took a few steps, then abruptly halted.
Unaware of the reason, Boyce nearly collided with him. Recoiling in fear, he took a step back. “What… what’s the matter with you?”
Boyce hoped Matthew wouldn’t startle him. Being with Matthew had been challenging.
Gripping the handrail tightly, Matthew’s grip grew firmer. “Is it possible… that she’s no longer here?”
He wasn’t certain, but he had a nagging feeling that Dolores might have already left. Yet, if he simply walked away like this, he feared he would miss something significant.
Boyce couldn’t provide an easy answer to that question.
Their leads were scarce. They had followed the phone call and arrived here, but the past few days had yielded no substantial leads. What more could Boyce do?
He wished Dolores would call Samuel once again, offering them a glimmer of hope.
Buzz…
Suddenly, Matthew’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved it swiftly and swiped to answer, hearing a clear, childlike voice. “Daddy, when will you be back?”
“Soon.”
“How soon is soon?” Matthew conversed with his daughter as he walked. “When you blink, I’ll appear right in front of you.”
The little girl blinked immediately, puzzled as to why Daddy hadn’t materialized yet.
“Daddy-”
“Look over here!”
A photographer raised his camera, aiming at the center of the lobby. With the White Group’s annual party in full swing, numerous outstanding managers and employees were being honored, requiring them to pose for group photos with Charles.
Dolores had been reluctant to participate, but Charles looked at her and said, “You promised to attend the party with me, yet you’re unwilling to stand by my side. Are you still my date for tonight?”
Dolores struggled to find the right words to counter him. She had no choice but to brave the situation and stand beside him.
“Clack.”
Accompanied by the countdown, the flash from the crystal pendant on the chandelier danced in Matthew’s eyes, causing him to squint involuntarily. He continued conversing with his daughter, “Count to three, and I’ll be there…”
While he spoke, he casually cast a glance downstairs…