Shamar came to work as scheduled.
He had a fair complexion and spoke politely, making him well-liked by many colleagues. Callie gave him a brief tour of Oconnor Group, which sparked numerous inquiries.
“Who is this?”
In the break room, Callie handed Shamar a cup of water. “We’ll be working together from now on. Please take care of me.”
Shamar’s department was not in design but in venture capital. He accepted the cup with a smile. “Thank you, my sister-in-law.”
Callie’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t call me that again. Be formal at the company.”
Shamar didn’t respond.
In the following days, Callie found a cup of hot coffee on her desk every morning at Oconnor Group.
Litzy was puzzled. “It wasn’t me.”
Curious, Callie checked the surveillance footage and discovered it was Shamar.
The next day, she left a note on her desk with sharp handwriting. “I don’t have the habit of drinking coffee in the morning. Thank you.”
The following day, there was indeed no more hot coffee.
That day was chaotic. Callie was in a meeting room, and Shamar was there too, handling the issue with the stubborn tenant.
Suddenly, the receptionist burst in, stammering, “Miss Marsh… someone is looking for you outside!”
Callie gave her a calming look. “Who?”
The receptionist shook her head but had a dramatic expression. “I don’t know him, but he specifically asked for you, and he has… he has a knife.”
Shamar walked to the door to take a look. At that moment, screams erupted outside, and a knife appeared before her, making her body stiffen.
The receptionist weakly finished her sentence, “… a knife.”
Realizing something was wrong, Callie stood up and walked over. The face behind the knife slowly came into view.
It was a man wearing a black leather jacket and worn-out jeans, with a cheap cigarette in his mouth. He had a buzz cut and an earring, resembling a low-budget version of a popular male star. His face was weathered and rugged.
He looked strikingly familiar. “Who here is Callie?”
Shamar had never seen such a rough man before. The sharp knife glinted painfully in the light, and she dared not move.
Callie pulled Shamar aside amidst the silence. “I am.”
“Damn it.” The man spat and grabbed Callie’s arm, pressing the knife closer. “You’re the one who won’t give us money and wants our land?”
He must be a relative of the stubborn tenant.
Callie looked at him for a moment and said, “Are you Kieran?”
She had reviewed every household’s information. One family’s son had gone abroad at eighteen, though “studying” was putting it kindly. He had squandered his family’s money wandering around until now. With his family in trouble, this prodigal son had finally returned.
Callie remembered him because he was a rare case-a poor family’s wastrel.
Kieran pressed the knife against Callie’s neck, gritting his teeth. “What are you going to do about it?”
Someone screamed, staring at the unwelcome guest.
Shamar grew more frantic, dropping her phone as she tried to calm Kieran. “Don’t get excited… do you want money? We have… just don’t do anything rash.”
Callie, standing close, saw Kieran’s eyes deepen.
She stared at him and told Shamar, “Don’t tell your brother. I can handle this.”
Litzy didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? There’s a knife…”