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Chapter_101
Hunter peered at his phone, admiring a photo sent by the planning department: a pair of impeccably smooth, hairless legs, edited to look even paler and more flawless. He zoomed in, pressing his face close to the screen, puckering his lips in exaggerated kissy gestures as if he could plant a smooch on the image itself.
Downstairs in the living room, Gaspard’s face darkened the moment he learned Crow had died. Even worse, Skadi had returned home unharmed. Geoffrey, his eldest son, handed him a steaming cup of coffee.
“Father, what’s happened?” he asked.
Gaspard ground his teeth. “Crow is dead—but Skadi survived!”
Geoffrey frowned. “The Green Bamboo Association failed us? Crow didn’t turn on us, did he?”
“Crow was as tight-lipped as they come,” Gaspard replied. “He wouldn’t betray us, not for any amount of money.” He paused, bitterness in his eyes. “It’s a shame our fifteen million went up in smoke.”
“They must be bold to eliminate a Green Bamboo associate,” Geoffrey said, voice low.
Gaspard’s lips curled into a grim smile. “We’ll see how Howard Lane—the man in charge of their Jonford branch—reacts. As for Hunt, make sure Herman honors the dowry agreement. I doubt he’ll dare renege on his promise.”
Meanwhile, in the company canteen’s bustling lunch hour, Nash received an urgent call from Stellar the moment he arrived.
“Nash, the warden’s suddenly lost feeling in his limbs. Come to Zells’ villa right away!”
Nash gave Hera, who was sitting beside him, an apologetic look. Before he could speak, Hera smiled and waved him off.
“Go. Finish it quickly—and pick me up here tonight, okay?”
He nodded. “Absolutely.” With that promise, he drove her Maserati straight to the Zells’ residence, leaving Hera to return to the office.
At headquarters, Hera paused in the parking lot when she spotted Hunter’s sleek black sedan idling near the entrance. Reluctance twisted her gut, but she reminded herself of the half-dozen urgent emails waiting in her inbox. Straightening her shoulders, she marched inside.
In Hunter’s corner office, his secretary had just refilled Hunter’s coffee. Hunter flipped his phone toward her.
“Look at these legs—aren’t they gorgeous?” he asked, smirking.
The secretary smiled politely. “Our president does have great legs—and a lovely figure overall.”
At that moment, Hera stepped into the doorframe. Hunter’s face lit up. He stood and opened his arms wide.
“Finally—you’re here! Come give me a hug, Hera.”
Hera recoiled. “Spare me,” she said, voice cold. “Stop being so… repulsive.”
Hunter hesitated—until he spotted his secretary’s retreating back—then let out a relieved laugh. “Don’t worry, she’s gone. Now come on—hug me.”
Hera drew herself up. “Absolutely not. Stop being creepy.”
Hunter’s brows furrowed in hurt confusion. “You showed me your legs last night at the company dinner… Doesn’t that mean you’re okay with me?”
Hera crossed her arms, jaw set. “Showing my legs is not an invitation. Let’s keep this professional.”
Hunter stared at her, uncertain and unsteady, as Hera turned on her heel and walked away, leaving his office door swinging on its hinges.