"Huh?" Everyone froze, staring at each other like they didn't hear what Rowan had just said. "What did you just say?" Luca challenged; the hostility in his voice was no longer hidden. "Didn't you hear me?" Rowan raised his brows, staring back at Luca. "If you're partially deaf, then tell me, so I can go borrow a speaker so everyone would know what you've done." "And if you're completely deaf, then I don't mind writing it down for you." Rowan shrugged, resting back on the chair, his eyes filled with disdain. "You..." Luca stuttered, his face going red in embarrassment. He knew well what he had done and knew what Rowan was referring to. But why would he admit it? "How dare you speak to Luca that way?" One of the females jumped forward, pointing at Rowan. "Do you even know who he is?" "Do you even know that Luca was generous enough to let you in here to join us, yet you want to criticize him?" "I bet you've never had such delicious food in your life or even sat in such a place,"

"Sarah and Zora froze, their eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets the moment they heard this. For some reason, they didn't want to think about it. But no matter how they tried to believe Rowan was bluffing, he made so much sense that they didn't know what angle to attack from. "I believe our other classmates would be able to see through it," Sarah finally broke the silence, her eyes showing a hint of determination. "See through?" Rowan huffed, the disdain in his voice even more evident now. "Just now, you bunch were defending him, not to talk of those losers who are trying to suck up to him." "Do you think they would want to think about it, especially when money is involved?" Rowan raised a brow, staring at Sarah who was in the back seat through the mirror. "If that's the case, what should we do?" Sarah panicked; unlike Zora, she was not from a rich family either. Most of their classmates were not. If she just watched and let Dan and Luca scam them out of all their money, sh

(The Next Day) Rowan sprawled lazily on the sofa, checking the time as he watched Zora work. He had translated all the documents the day before and thus had no work to do today, which was why he was so free. Also, he was supposed to head to the company that morning to meet up with Dominic, but the latter had said something came up, so he needed to handle it first. After waiting for a while, Rowan was finally impatient. He wanted to see what was happening at the company that kept Dominic away for so long. "Wifey," he called out, standing from where he was sitting, walking over to Zora. "What's wrong?" Zora inquired, her head still buried in the files she was working on. She had gotten the sales rights she wanted. She was still thinking of how to go about the advert. Though Aurex Biopharmaceuticals would still make their knee adverts, she still needed to find a way to contract with hospitals to supply the drugs. There had been a list of it, but then she needed to check for the o

"How much did they offer you?" Rowan asked, feeling rather interested, wanting to see how much they would value his formula. "One billion," Dominic answered. "And how much did we estimate to make once it's released to the public, excluding our costs?" Rowan couldn't help but ask, his brows narrowing as he thought of something. "Five hundred million," Dominic gave a clear answer once again. "And that's only just the first batch; we haven't estimated for the subsequent ones after it," he added. "Those stingy capitalists," Rowan couldn't help but scoff. He had nearly gone bankrupt when he was researching the drug, and when he needed funding urgently, no one agreed to lend to him. They all believed he was never going to succeed. Now that he actually did succeed, they wanted to buy off the formula. To hell with them. Besides, they knew how valuable it was. Even selling that formula for ten million was still underestimating its worth. If one looked at it, his company could easily en

The dim basement of the municipal detention center smelled of damp concrete and old rust. Inside Cell 14, the man sitting on the narrow wooden bench kept his head down, his posture stiff under the harsh fluorescent tube buzzing overhead. From the hallway outside, hurried footsteps echoed against the tile floor. A tall man in a cheap black suit and round spectacles walked briskly toward the barred door, carrying a brown leather briefcase under his arm. He glanced around nervously, his eyes darting toward the empty guard station at the far end of the corridor before he pulled a laminated visitor badge from his pocket. "Are you Jard, the driver from the afternoon collision on Westway Boulevard?" The man spoke through the iron bars, his voice kept to a hushed murmur. The figure on the wooden bench did not answer right away and merely gave a slow nod. "I'm Attorney Dennis Cole, assigned by the public defender's office to handle your emergency intake," The visitor continued without wa