Renee Winslow was sitting in a silver Bentley when it got hit by a large truck; the truck driver had been drinking, driving under the influence, and was already taken away by the authorities.
The driver who was bringing Renee, Carrington, was killed on the spot.
Renee was lucky—she survived, but her left arm was broken, a deep gash ran from the corner of her left eye, and her face was marked by cuts from pieces of shattered glass.
"How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" Sanga asked, his voice choked. After asking, he slapped himself and muttered in guilt, "It’s all my fault, all my fault... If I hadn’t agreed, you wouldn’t have gone out... you wouldn’t—"
Renee wanted to lift her hand to stop Sanga, but couldn’t manage it.
Her left hand was broken, the right had an IV needle stuck in it; she tried to shake her head, but as soon as she moved, a stabbing pain shot through her head.
Sanga hurriedly pressed her shoulder: "Don’t move, don’t move, just lie still."
Renee struggled to speak: "It’s not your fault. Don’t feel bad."
The doctor ca in to check on Renee, and after asking questions, said to Aunty Warren and the others: "There’s no need for so many people in the room. Too many people will only hinder the patient’s recovery. One or two attendants is enough."
In the end, Aunty Warren and Shay stayed behind; Sanga was sent back by Butler Pierce.
Jack Yates arrived just after five in the morning.
Old Mr. Yates regained consciousness just after four, finally out of danger.
Jack stayed with him for half an hour before hurrying over to the hospital where Renee was admitted.
When he got outside the ward, Jack didn’t rush in; instead, he paused at the door, his hand hanging at his side clenching into a fist, tightening and loosening, over and over, until he finally relaxed and walked inside.
Renee’s room was a luxury VIP suite, complete with a companion room.
But Aunty Warren and Shay hadn’t gone to rest in the companion room; both stayed by Renee’s bedside.
Shay sat on the single sofa by the window, Aunty Warren on the sofa near the door.
Seeing Jack Yates arrive, both won stood up.
Jack Yates said softly, "You should go get so rest."
Due to the dication, Renee had fallen asleep a while ago, but her sleep was troubled, her brows furrowing and relaxing by turns.
Jack pulled up a chair and sat by her bed, holding her right hand. Seeing the cuts on the back of her hand from the glass shards, he pressed his tongue hard against his teeth, forcing down the bitterness that rose in his throat.
That big truck was ant for him; the intended target was him. Renee had taken the hit instead.
Carrington’s body was still in the morgue, but the Carrington Family was nowhere to be found.
This wasn’t sothing Ethan Wyatt would have pulled; Ethan’s reach didn’t extend that far yet.
Matthew Shaw had already gone down, and the only other person with both a grudge and the ans to do it was...
Jack’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He quietly let go of Renee’s hand, stood up, and walked to the balcony to take the call.
The call was from Aiden Grant. He ran a private detective agency—the largest in the country.
"Did you get anything?" Jack asked, cutting straight to the point.
Aiden Grant replied, "The truck driver’s na is Yorick Tierney, forty-eight, one son and one daughter. The son’s in college. Half a month ago Yorick was diagnosed with stomach cancer. The public security folks are interrogating him, but Yorick insists he was just in a bad mood and drank a few too many."
Jack asked coldly, "What about the Carrington Family?"
Aiden Grant: "They’ve been sent to Veridia. I’ve already arranged for people to go there."
Jack: "Give the address to Harvey Lancaster."
Aiden Grant: "Okay."
After acknowledging, Aiden Grant asked, "Third Brother, when Renee gets discharged, do you want to send her abroad?"
-
During Renee’s hospitalization, Jack couldn’t stay by her side all the ti.
He still had work to handle, the car accident to resolve, and battles with both the Hawthorne Family and the Shaw Family to fight.
After he got Matthew Shaw down, the Shaws and Hawthornes had started working together.
Matthew’s brother, the Shaw Family’s second son Michael Shaw, rushed back from overseas and officially took over Matthew’s affairs.
Michael Shaw was Jack’s age; he had spent all these years abroad, managing the Estria markets.
On New Year’s Day, the Hawthorne Family’s eldest daughter, Wren Hawthorne, and the Shaw Family’s second son, Michael Shaw, hosted their engagent party at the Kyoro Grand Hotel.
Hector Hawthorne was still the Director of the Energy Bureau at that ti, and people flocked to flatter him.
Hector’s father-in-law, Chester Gable, loved antiques and paintings, so people used the celebration as a pretense to send things to the Gable Family in bulk: pastel enal vases from Qianlong’s reign, inkstones from Kangxi, paintings by Dong Qichang, calligraphy by Wen Zhengming, and pieces of Ancient Blue Porcelain, Skyjade Porcelain, and more—all authentic treasures.
Even though Hector had warned Chester Gable in advance not to take any gifts during this ti,
Chester, eager to build his reputation since rising to wealth, deliberately tried to mix with the antiquities crowd and faked an interest in art—until he actually started to like it for real.
So faced with these genuine pieces, he just couldn’t resist.
Plus Chester Gable was greedy by nature; there was no way he wouldn’t take them.
He took the gifts on the sly and warned the family not to tell a soul.
Starkwood Group, President’s Office.
Kyle Sheffield grinned at Jack, "Just as you expected, that old fool Chester really took them."
Jack curled his lip, sneering.
"Before Chester struck it rich, he worked a few years in the coal mines, t so clueless mine bosses, followed them in the coal business for a while. Later he got in with so contractors. When coal started to decline, Chester switched to real estate and beca a contractor himself."
"Guys like Chester, who never even finished grade school and got rich quick, are terrified of being called uneducated."
"The less you have, the more you want it. That’s human nature."
Kyle Sheffield remarked fairly, "Say what you will, but that old fool does have so business sense."
Jack: "Back then, real estate was booming. Chester got in just in ti to ride the wave and cash in."
Kyle nodded, then added, "Every era has its unique opportunities, but not everyone can seize them."
"For example, in the seventies, when the big economic opening began. Looking back, opportunities were everywhere—money lying on the ground for anyone to pick up. But few really got on board, a tiny minority. Lots of people were even afraid to leave ho and find work."
Jack wasn’t interested in discussing business theory with Kyle. He cut him off coldly.
"Have PR push an antique-related topic online tonight. Buy so paid trolls, get ’A piece from The Imperial Palace, a piece for ’ trending at number one. Then leak the story of Hector Hawthorne’s father-in-law hoarding antiques and dig up Chester Gable’s record protecting grave robbers and dealings with relic traffickers."
Kyle Sheffield raised an eyebrow, gave a thumbs up, and complinted, "Brilliant! You should have the Gable surna!"
Jack snapped coldly, "Get out!"
Kyle chuckled, then asked, "How’s Renee doing? Are you really going to send her abroad?"
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