“Wine? What kind of wine requires Jaquan to go to such lengths?”
“Jaquan has a lot of nightlife business under his belt. Just his connections in the market can earn him this much daily,” Nelson said nonchalantly, making a hand gesture. “There are many kinds of wine: good, bad, and dirty. Guess which kind Jaquan makes his money from?”
Callie pursed her lips, having some idea. “What would happen if he got caught?”
Nelson didn’t continue. “Do you feel sorry for him?”
She ignored him. He grabbed her dangling hand and played with it slowly. “That car accident was too coincidental, wasn’t it? Even if I wanted to deal with him, he has you as his witness. Could I really implicate my own wife?”
Nelson spoke slowly but with heavy meaning. “Callie, he has found my soft spot, making it impossible for me to act against him. Do you know what that means?”
Callie shuddered slightly, only now realizing why Mikayla insisted she stay at the hospital. It was never about her; it was about Nelson.
“I’ve told you before, Jaquan is not a good person.” Nelson released her.
When they arrived at Oconnor Group, Callie got out of the car at the entrance. She was lost in thought the whole way. Nelson’s reminder was not without reason; he had awakened a sense of caution in her that she had never felt before.
“Miss Marsh,” a voice suddenly called from behind. Callie turned to see Shamar.
He was dressed in a sharp suit, looking more and more like a professional man, increasingly steady. “Shamar.”
Shamar walked up to her and smiled. “I saw you getting out of my brother’s car just now. I didn’t dare call out, afraid someone might notice.”
Callie forced a smile. “How’s work going lately?”
“Not bad.” They walked forward together, passing through the turnstiles. “The tasks Nelson assigned have tight deadlines, so I’ve had to work overtime. But the subsequent cooperation with Aunt Lucia has been quite good.”
He deliberately mentioned Lucia.
Callie chewed over his words. “Has her son returned?”
Shamar nodded, understanding her question. “Don’t worry, not yet.”
Their conversation ended there.
Passing by the reception desk, someone called out to Callie. “Miss Marsh, your package.”
Callie reached out to take it; it was documents sent by a partner. She thanked them and suddenly remembered something. “I recall you’ve been on night shifts recently.”
The receptionist was taken aback. “You have a good memory.”
An idea struck Callie. She mentioned a date. “Around those days, were there any suspicious people entering or leaving the design department at night, excluding those working overtime?”
“At night…” The receptionist frowned, thinking. “No… Only staff can enter Oconnor Group; you need a card to get in. There wouldn’t be any suspicious people.”
Unable to get an answer, Callie was about to give up when Shamar suddenly spoke up. “I do recall something around that time. One night I left late and ran into Miss Weber in the elevator. She was wearing a mask and hat, not looking like she was coming to work.”
Cora?
Callie’s eyes widened. ‘How could I forget her?’
“Do you remember the exact time?” Callie grabbed his hand.
“I can’t recall exactly, but it was around midnight. She got off on the design department floor.”
Callie couldn’t help but laugh. She nodded. “I understand now. Thank you, Shamar.”
‘I never thought Cora would be the one who stole my design.’