To prepare for next sumr's major exhibition, the marketing departnt had been working non-stop this month, developing over ten potential curatorial proposals.
Jas was walking briskly alongside Adrian toward the conference room, reporting today's schedule:
"Boss, after confirming the proposal with marketing this morning, you have lunch with Zenith Gallery's CEO - he's tried to et you twice already, so please try to make it this ti. After lunch, he's invited you to your usual private equestrian club - I've cleared three hours in your afternoon schedule. For dinner at 6 PM, you have several invitations to choose from, please decide one. "In the evening, we have final interviews with two restoration specialists in the restoration room - I've allocated two hours. One candidate cos highly recomnded by a retired Japanese restoration master, and the other is a veteran craftsman who worked at France for many years. The major client from our last acquisition specifically requested his involvent in the restoration process, so they've asked for your personal interview."
They entered the elevator, and Jas handed over the tablet. Adrian's long fingers swiped away two dinner appointnts from the list.
In the silent elevator with just the two of them, Jas hesitated before carefully speaking:
"By the way, boss, at that yacht party you missed the other night... a young man in his early twenties was arrested by the DEA right after docking. Drug possession in international waters is a federal offense, and with over 100 grams of heroin found in his bag, he's probably looking at 30 years in prison."
As the elevator descended floor by floor, Adrian stared at the screen expressionlessly.
Seeing no reaction, Jas added softly, "Well, this person... is Christine Blackwood's brother, Oliver Lawrence."
He couldn't tell if his boss had even registered his words. The elevator doors opened, and Adrian walked out without expression, turning right into the conference room where the marketing team sat ramrod straight, awaiting his arrival.
The bandage wrapped around his right hand was obvious, but no one dared to stare or comnt.
He took the center seat, placing both hands on the table. Daniel, who had been waiting, imdiately laid out the proposed exhibition thes for his review. Jas soon brought over a coffee cup, placing it by his right hand.
Adrian took a sip of coffee, flipped through the promotional plans, then pushed them forward. Rubbing between his brows, his furrowed expression showed clear irritation: "Can't you think of any selling points beyond royalty, luxury, and treasures?"
The conference room fell silent.
Public exhibitions were the group's largest channel for reaching the masses, affecting not just revenue but crucially important corporate image. Adrian always took this seriously, typically requesting at least ten proposals from the exhibition departnt a year in advance, personally selecting the most suitable version.
Clearly, he wasn't satisfied with any of the dozen or so exhibition proposals prepared this year.
Just as the atmosphere was approaching freezing point and the exhibition departnt head was preparing for the worst, a young female designer in the corner spoke softly.
"...Actually, I think we could use 'love' as our selling point."
Noticing Adrian's gaze turn to her, she quickly shrunk back, carefully adding, "Um... though it might be risky, I believe romance is a tiless the among young people. Most of our next exhibition pieces are jewelry, and ancient jewelry symbolizes eternal ti - I think it matches perfectly with the the of love."
The Blackwood Group, inherited from Europe's art nobility, had maintained their dignified image since Adrian's grandfather's era, shaped by the old man's character.
In his grandfather's words: Art should never try to cater to common understanding. It's ant to be elegant and unapproachable - that's what makes it precious. People often say artists are strange, and naturally so. If everyone could understand their work, how could it be called art? That's exactly why the art trade and auction business should target the wealthy, the most refined individuals. We use complex philosophical and ideological concepts to separate ordinary people from true art connoisseurs, raising barriers and creating value.
Even today, their exhibitions maintained these high-brow thes, never venturing into anything as common as romance.
After all, their boss wasn't exactly known for being romantic.
"I think it's worth trying," another young curator gathered courage to agree.
"This exhibition is high-profile and large-scale. We need to attract younger audiences to create buzz across platforms. A love the would really resonate with young people and help soften our traditionally rigid corporate image."
Seeing that Adrian wasn't shutting down the discussion, the curators began speaking freely:
"Yes, exactly! We could offer couple tickets, and even set up matching rchandise areas outside the exhibition space."
"But you know, regular couples won't buy jewelry just because they visited an exhibition - jewelry, being expensive and lasting, symbolizes more than love. It represents commitnt and vows. Only couples planning marriage or deeply in love would give such gifts."
Jas silently turned his gaze to the back of Adrian's head, out of curiosity.
Wait, did that Paraiba tourmaline brooch his boss gave to Miss Christine carry such aning?
Adrian lifted his eyes slightly, clearly disagreeing with that notion.
While the curators enthusiastically discussed this promising new exhibition the, they suddenly noticed their boss's increasingly furrowed brow. They fell silent, and within seconds, the entire conference room beca dead quiet.
Adrian gave everyone a cool glance, his expression carrying that characteristic aloofness that seed to look down on everything. Before leaving the conference room, he left them with just one word: "Redo."
Every single exhibition proposal needed to be redone.
Leaving the conference room, Jas followed Adrian back to the CEO's office on the top floor, while Daniel and the exhibition team handled the follow-up. Just as they exited the elevator, Adrian turned slightly and said coldly to Jas, "Make a call."
Jas hurriedly pulled out his phone, opening the call screen, "Boss, who should I call?"
"Harrison Astor."
Jas imdiately understood.
A-ha.
Christine's brother Oliver was arrested at 11 PM two nights ago. The news broke at 10 AM yesterday, instantly spreading through N City's wealthy circles. His parents were nearly going mad with worry, desperately making every possible phone call, sending out hundreds of thousands for help, only to have them all returned.
Why? Well, drug possession - that's no minor offense. It's a serious cri that could land soone in prison for decades. The case was too big; nobody dared to touch it.
Though anyone with eyes could see the kid was clearly frad - Christine's family, Lawrence family were all academics with zero connections to the underworld. Oliver was just an up-and-coming businessman handling liquor supply for several major nightclubs and high-end hotels in N City. Nobody knew which big shot or rich kid he'd offended to end up in such a trap.
However, even if everyone else was afraid to deal with drugs and the DEA, one person dared.
That person was Harrison Astor.
Though Harrison was famously unscholarly and frivolous since his school days, he had one extraordinary talent: making friends. His family business spanned real estate and entertainnt, deeply entangled with all sorts of characters. Yet Harrison managed to charm both the underworld and legitimate circles with his silver tongue, living quite comfortably in N City.
The fact that he was one of Adrian's few close friends proved just how solid his connections were.
Jas connected the call, and a playful, cheerful voice ca through: "Wow! This is the first ti I've gotten a call from my big bro Adrian! Need a favor? How rare - what happened? I can't wait to hear! Damn, co on, just spit it out!"
This was indeed Adrian's first ti asking Harrison for help, though his cold, commanding tone hardly sounded like asking:
"Look into Oliver Lawrence's drug case. Real or fake, get him out of DEA custody. Imdiately."
Harrison paused: Oliver Lawrence - he'd heard about this arrest these days but hadn't paid attention. Now thinking carefully: wow, this kid was Adrian's brother's wife's brother!
What an impressive brother-in-law, so loyal.
Harrison secretly gave Adrian a ntal thumbs up.
Jas, listening quietly, wondered: Was the boss changing tactics, going for the heroic knight-in-shining-armor approach to win back Miss Christine's favor?
But just as he was thinking that, after hanging up the phone, Adrian added as he stepped out of the elevator: "If she calls, tell her I'm busy."
"She" obviously ant Christine.
...Huh? He wanted to help her but didn't want her to know? What ga was the boss playing?
Jas suddenly felt he couldn't understand his boss at all, and could only nod and say "Okay."
He didn't know what his boss's true intentions were -
Was he playing the anonymous hero? Or was he traumatized after Christine criticized him for beating up Marcus who had harassed her?
Or did he feel bad seeing Christine running around trying to help her brother?
Or... did he just not want to see her begging in front of him again, for another man?
Ah, it was truly impossible to understand.
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