Chapter 18
Through the entire dinner, Clarinda only needed to focus on
eating.
From time to time, when he noticed a dish she liked, Rudolf
would quietly serve her some.
Like vegan cheese.
Corby never touched soy products, so the Alden family table
had never once seen that dish.
But Clarinda liked it.
She glanced at Rudolf, eyes crinkling with gratitude. She didn’t
speak, but he understood, giving her a light pat on the head. “Eat
while it’s hot. The professor made me promise to take good care
of you.”
Meanwhile, across the hall, another private dining room
opened.
A man in his late forties emerged first, leading several suited
subordinates. His air was pure executive, polished, clearly an
upper–level leader of a listed company.
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He stepped aside with a broad smile, speaking fluent Veltranian.
“Mr. Langdon, then it’s settled. I’ll bring the contract to your
hotel tomorrow for signing.”
“Alright.”
The young man who answered strode out with an air of
detachment. In a tailored black shirt and slacks, his jacket tossed
casually over his arm, his striking features radiated the natural
dominance of someone born to lead.
His assistant leaned in at the right moment. “Boss, the head of
Anyon Biotech is waiting at the hotel.”
At that, the older man quickly offered, “Allow me to escort you
out.”
As the waiters pushed in with another round of dishes, the young man’s gaze swept carelessly across Clarinda’s room.
She was dressed in a soft rose knit, jeans hugging her curves, her
small face bright with a smile as the man beside her tapped her
on the head. She looked utterly docile, not resisting in the
slightest.
Such a good girl.
His assistant noticed him pause and followed his gaze, eyes
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widening. “Boss, what’s she doing here in Veltrana?”
Then he looked at Rudolf in puzzlement. “And who’s that guy?
Has she already divorced Corby and found someone new?”
The waiter stepped out and shut the door, cutting off their view.
The man shot his assistant a sidelong glance, his long fingers
tugging impatiently at his tie. “What do I look like, a fortune-
teller?”
***
Clarinda had never been one to struggle with jet lag. She woke
before her alarm, perfectly rested.
The ribbon–cutting was scheduled for 9:58 a.m.
A good hour, clearly chosen with care. No escaping mysticism.
The Institute’s location was prime.
Guests at the ceremony were all leaders in traditional medicine.
If not for standing in for her professor, someone as cautious as
Clarinda would never have come close to such a circle.
Few young women ever made it to the top of the field, and
Clarinda’s arrival with Rudolf inevitably drew stares.
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Successful, beautiful, and young. Who wouldn’t want to take a
second look?
Once they learned she was Clifton Peterson’s student, people
naturally struck up conversation, asking about the medicine
she and Rudolf had developed.
One pharmaceutical company even tried offering a fortune to
buy the formula outright.
Rudolf and Clarinda exchanged a look before he answered
politely, “Sorry. Our goal has always been healing, and our
clinic’s patients still depend on this medicine.”
It wasn’t the first time they’d gotten such offers.
The prices were always high, and Clarinda had been tempted
more than once.
But once a drug was sold to a company, its price would spiral
out of their control.
Many patients at their clinic had already scraped together everything just to keep treating their illness. Clarinda refused to
be the final straw that broke them.
After a quick stop at the restroom, Clarinda was intercepted on
her way back by the head of the pharmaceutical company.
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He handed her his card with a pleasant smile. “If you ever want
a change of pace, my door is always open.”
He’d done his homework before coming.
The woman before him wasn’t ordinary. Her gift for traditional
medicine was rare. The clinic’s success couldn’t possibly be just
Clifton and Rudolf; surely she had played a major part.
Clarinda kept her usual polite smile. “Alright, I’ll keep that in
mind.”
She offered a few polite words and turned to leave. Then, she
froze mid–step, her lips stiffening.
For a moment, her mind went blank.
In the past three years, she’d imagined countless scenarios
where she might run into Ambrose again.
At the Langdon’s mansion, at one of Corby’s social gatherings, or
even in some random building in Veyton.
But he had never appeared.
Not once.
And now, without warning, here he was, showing up in the last
place she ever expected, at the most impossible moment.
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Years had passed, and Ambrose had changed greatly.
His features were sharp and cold, his tall frame straight and commanding. A hand–tailored black suit molded to him
perfectly, a wooden bead bracelet circled his wrist, and his very
presence radiated aloofness and detachment, enough to make
anyone wary.
It was the oppressive aura of someone long accustomed to
power.
Clearly, he was no longer the man she could chase after.
Things between them had long since changed.
Many people clustered around him, but unlike Corby Alden’s
polished courtesy, whether out of flattery or respect, he only gave a cool nod, not even bothering to open his mouth. His dark eyes swept carelessly in her direction before shifting away.
“Clara.”
Just then, Rudolf walked over, easing her tension. “Come on, it’s
time for the ribbon–cutting.”
“Alright.”
)
Clarinda quickly agreed, forcing herself to ignore that lingering
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gaze.
After all, she wasn’t the one who had done anything wrong
back then.
What was there to be afraid of?
The ribbon–cutting ceremony took place at the front entrance of the Traditional Medicine Research Institute. By the time they
walked out, the staff was ready, waiting only for the guests to
take their places.
Lateefa Khanam is a spirited writer who finds freedom in horse riding. She cherishes her mare and the newborn foal, calling them her little happy family.
