Falling 37

His retreating figure radiated suppressed anger and embarrassment. 

After he left, Sandria looked at Zackary with some surprise. 

“Thank you.” 

She hadn’t expected that, as just a business partner meeting for the first time today, he would actually speak up for her, even at the risk of offending the president of the Mosley Group. 

Zackary quickly waved his hand. “Ms. Farley, no need to thank me. After all, our partnership is just beginning, so of course I have to look out for you.” 

After all, someone had specifically instructed him–he dared not be negligent. 

Hearing this, Sandria’s long, thick lashes fluttered gently, hiding the flash of deep thought in her eyes. 

She didn’t press further. 

After signing the contract, Sandria walked out of the antique–style teahouse. The gentle afternoon sunlight bathed her, dispelling the gloom of the past few days. 

The blazing golden rays poured down like molten gold, lavish and unrestrained. 

The thin contract in her arms now felt as heavy as a thousand pounds–it was the first trumpet call of her rebirth. 

Her mood had never been better. 

She stood by the roadside, took out her phone, and was just about to order a ride. 

But suddenly, her phone vibrated sharply in her palm, the buzzing seeming to drill right into her bones. 

It was Ashlan. 

“Sandy, how did everything go?” 

“I happen to be nearby. Let’s grab a meal. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” 

Sandria knew he was worried about her, and her heart was suddenly struck by a wave of warmth. 

It was both bittersweet and comforting. 

It had indeed been a long time since they last met. Since she was about to head back, having a meal together first sounded good. 

She curved her lips slightly, her voice unconsciously taking on a soft, obedient tone, 

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“Okay, I’ll send you the address.” 

She stood beneath the plane tree by the roadside, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows on her fair cheeks, making her look as beautiful as a painting. 

Not long after, a jet–black Rolls–Royce Phantom pulled up in front of her. 

The car door opened, and a driver in a crisp uniform quickly got out, respectfully opening the back door for her, his arm shielding the car roof in a gesture of utmost humility. 

“Miss, please.” 

Sandria nodded slightly and bent down to get in. 

The soft leather seat enveloped her, the temperature inside the car was perfectly comfortable, and the air was faintly scented with a cool, woody fragrance. 

And this striking scene was clearly witnessed by Courtney and Gaston from a nearby Bentley. 

Courtney’s nails were almost digging into the soft flesh of her palm. 

Immediately, Courtney pointed at the car, her voice laced with just the right amount of surprise, concern, and a faint, almost imperceptible disdain. 

“Gasty, Sandria just got into that black Rolls–Royce! That car must be worth tens of millions, right? Is she… is she be- ing kept by someone?” 

Gaston followed the direction of her finger. 

He had originally thought she had gotten in with someone from Skyline Technologies. 

But when he saw the license plate on that Phantom clearly, his eyes, cold as ice, suddenly narrowed! 

That was no ordinary license plate! 

It was a plate starting with “GH,” followed by a string of special numbers! 

In this country, that license plate was a top–tier pass, granting access anywhere! 

It represented the family truly standing above the clouds–Glottenham, the Schroeder family! 

The real top aristocratic family in the country! 

Even their own Mosley family had tried everything to forge a connection with the Schroeder family! 

How could this be possible? 

“That’s Mr. Schroeder, Ashlan’s car.” 

“What?” 

Courtney was instantly shocked, her eyes filled with disbelief, which was soon replaced by a shadowy gloom. 

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It was as if something in her mind suddenly became clear. 

No wonder the people from Skyline Technologies were so protective of Sandria. 

Chapter38 

Chapter38