Hattie was first surprised and then gradually calmed down. She had clearly felt the rope holding the wooden crate break when she was moving the flowers, causing the pot she was holding to fall.
The potted plant fell to the ground, the pot could be replaced, as long as the flower was still alive, there was still a chance to nurture it.
Hattie had taken care of flowers before, both in the Mason family and the Stewart family. It was a hobby of hers, but she had never dealt with such an expensive orchid before.
Kneeling down, Hattie inspected the soil. The appearance of the flower was ruined, and the stem buried in the soil was also broken. Could it still survive?
Orchids were delicate, not to mention this famous Ghost Orchid. Artificial cultivation required a lot of time, with low survival rates and strict conditions for longevity.
It’s no wonder Mr. Anderson was willing to pay her $500 just to move a plant. He didn’t specify what plant it was, but now that it was broken, she would likely be held responsible.
Hattie wasn’t foolish. Putting everything together, she realized she had walked into the trap set by Harry from the moment she saw him. And to think she naively believed he wouldn’t recognize her in this state.
The expensive pot was shattered, and Mr. Anderson quickly approached, “Hattie, didn’t I tell you to be careful with your actions? Do you know how much this flower costs?”
Hattie scoffed; how could she not know the value of the flower? Harry truly spared no expense.
Looking at her disheveled appearance, with some pain in her legs and her stomach starting to ache again, Hattie struggled to stand up. She didn’t know where to look.
Mr. Anderson continued to lecture her, but no matter how much he said, Hattie wouldn’t listen to a word.
This was a trap from the start, and if she willingly fell into it, she would have to accept the consequences. There was no way to check the surveillance footage, and she couldn’t prove that someone tampered with the plant.
Should she call the police?
As a former convict with a criminal record, how many people would believe her?
Not to mention Harry’s current status, growing more influential by the day. Though in Chiwood, his grasp wasn’t absolute, it was easy for him to suppress someone as insignificant as Hattie.
“The owner of the flower is still here, and he seems quite approachable. Explain the situation to him in person, and you might be able to reduce your losses.”
“Who is the owner of the flower?” Hattie asked feigning ignorance.
Sure enough, she heard a familiar name from Mr. Anderson’s lips, “He’s the owner of Stewart Group, Harry, you should know him.”
“I know, of course I know.” No one knew better than her.
Approachable? If arranging for people to torture her day and night in prison, breaking her fingers, scalding her flesh with boiling water, branding her back with hot oil, and breaking her legs only constituted good behavior, then there were no villains in this world…
Hattie wore a mask, suppressing the smirk on her lips.
With one sentence, Mr. Anderson had already determined her guilt.
“Will I be the one compensating?”
Mr. Anderson was taken aback, not expecting Hattie to ask this first. Ordinary people would panic upon hearing tens of thousands of dollars in liability. Yet she remained calm.
“Hattie, I paid you $500 upfront for the job, and if you didn’t do it properly, it’s your mistake. But I understand your monthly salary is tight, so I will cover part of the expenses, including the hotel.”
“How much is ‘part’?” Hattie inquired.
“That depends on Mr. Stewart’s wishes. How much does he want? If you’re not satisfied, we can involve the police and the courts.” Mr. Anderson’s tone was stern, trying to intimidate Hattie.
Tens of thousands of dollars were no joke.
Harry had come for her, and she had brought it upon herself.
“Let’s go, I’ll take you upstairs.”
After making a phone call, Harry was resting in a hotel room on the fifteenth floor. He had come here for business.
Mr. Anderson knocked on the door and the bodyguard inside opened it. Seeing the tall and imposing bodyguard, Mr. Anderson, a man, couldn’t help feeling nervous.
“Mr. Stewart, I apologize for the incompetence of our hotel staff, they broke your potted plant. I have brought Hattie here to apologize.”
“Bring her in.”
Hattie had mentally prepared herself, but when she heard Harry’s cold voice, her heart still skipped a beat.
Pushed in by Mr. Anderson, she saw the person inside, only a silhouette, with a sharp aura enveloping the entire room.
Harry stood up, his gaze chilly as it fell on Hattie. She kept her head down, wearing a mask, her shoulder-length hair tied in a bun, a common style in the hotel.
His eyes lingered on Hattie, and he instructed the bodyguards in the room, “You all can escort Mr. Anderson downstairs. I don’t need anyone here; I need to rest.”
He was dismissing everyone, leaving only Hattie alone with Harry in the room.
“Hattie?” Harry chuckled, though no one knew what he found amusing.
Hattie remained with her head bowed until she heard footsteps. The shiny black leather shoes appeared in her lowered line of sight, their tips pointing towards her.
“Should I call you Hattie, or should I call you Hattie? Or perhaps Hattie?”
The last “Hattie” made her snap out of her daze. Before she could react, she felt a considerable force under her chin, forcing her to look up and meet Harry’s smiling yet icy gaze.