6: Meeting Lorenzo, Feeling Wronged

Lorenzo undid the buttons on his suit jacket, the tie loose and hanging casually, revealing a delicate collarbone as he leaned against the extended Rolls-Royce. A man nearby lit a cigar for him.

Around them, people were chatting in Spanish, and in the dim light, Lorenzo wore a smirk, looking somewhat mischievous. He crossed his long legs, his slender fingers holding the cigar. His voice was low as he spoke, "We agreed, we can play here, but don’t cause me trouble, or else..." He paused mid-sentence.

One of the men nearby tugged at his tie and, grinning lewdly, spoke in broken English, "Don’t worry, Boss White, we know our limits. We won’t kick anyone’s balls on the street."

Lorenzo raised his hand and slapped the back of the man’s head. "Watch your mouth!"

Everyone around laughed it off; they were used to it.

At that moment, a woman dressed in a formal gown approached Lorenzo. Though her face was flushed, she showed no fear. "Mr. White, hello. My name is Nina. My father is Quincy Reynolds, and we are in the real estate business. I hope we can be friends," she said.

Lorenzo looked up, raising an eyebrow, and exhaled a puff of smoke that made Nina cough several times.

"I really don’t like being interrupted when I’m speaking," Lorenzo said coldly. He gestured with his hand. "Please have this young lady leave."

The men around them, all over six feet tall, looked at Nina with naked, hungry eyes. The two girls behind Nina had already stepped back, not daring to approach. After all, these men were no mere thugs.

Rumor had it that in foreign countries, these were men with blood on their hands. The thought of it terrified them.

"Isn’t Boss White into younger girls? This one fits perfectly," one man nudged his chin towards Nina. "Doesn’t take much effort, and the car’s already here."

Lorenzo squeezed the cigar, turned to look at the man beside him, and coldly said, "You’ve got some nerve, mocking me." He then slapped the man’s face lightly. "Next time, I’ll feed you to the dogs."

The man quickly lowered his head.

Lorenzo flicked the cigar to the ground and extinguished it before turning and getting into the car.

---

Nina composed herself, thinking she might be in for something worse, but instead, she was simply escorted back to the banquet hall.

"Nina, you scared us to death. Are you okay?" one of the girls whispered.

Nina shook her head. "It wasn’t as bad as you think. Mr. White is actually quite easygoing. He was worried I wouldn’t be safe, so he sent me back."

"Well, that's good. Did you get his contact info?" the other girl asked.

Nina felt a bit awkward but nodded to maintain the appearance. "Yes, I did. I’ll contact him once I get home..."

"Wow, Nina, you’re so amazing!" the two girls exclaimed, utterly envious. If only they had the chance to meet the White Family, they’d be dreaming for days.

Lorenzo sat in the back of the extended Rolls-Royce, his jacket discarded, his shirt slightly open, revealing a large section of his toned abs.

"Boss White, would you like to go for drinks at a bar?" the driver asked, turning his head.

Lorenzo lowered the car window, his hand resting on the edge. The slightly rolled-up sleeves revealed his muscular arms. "No, take me back to the hotel."

He had other matters to attend to.

---

Early the next morning, shouting echoed through the villa. Cassandra stood firmly in the middle of the living room, her delicate face void of emotion. She had grown numb to this. It had always been this way, and she had learned to live with it.

Rachel sat on the sofa, her face flushed with anger as she pointed at Cassandra’s nose, scolding, "What a disgrace! All the manners you were taught, did they just go into the dog’s stomach?"

It's not common to insult someone and end up insulting yourself, but Cassandra didn’t retort.

Charles sat in a single chair, his face dark with anger. If it weren't for Serena pleading on Cassandra’s behalf today, he might have forgotten what happened at the banquet yesterday.

Not only did she openly show her displeasure, but she also left the banquet early. After spending so much money on teaching her etiquette and manners, she had learned nothing but disrespect for her elders and disregard for proper conduct.

Grace stood beside Cassandra, her voice soft and gentle, "Mom, Cassandra is still young. I'll make sure she learns from this when we get home."

"How dare you speak for her? This is the kind of daughter you raised?" Grace slapped the armrest of the sofa angrily.

Cassandra lowered her eyes, her voice soft but firm, "It’s my fault, not my mother’s."

She could take the beating, the scolding, but not the insults against her mother. That was her only boundary.

Charles stood up and kicked Cassandra, "You’ve gone too far, talking back to your grandmother."

Cassandra staggered from the force, almost losing her balance. A large black footprint appeared on her white pants.

Grace shielded Cassandra with her body. "You, you can’t hit her, there are other ways to talk this through," she said, her voice still gentle despite the situation.

Cassandra bit her lip, tears welling up. "I was wrong, but why is she insulting my mother? My manners were taught by her, and if they are wrong, it’s her fault."

She stubbornly lifted her head.

Charles’s forehead bulged with veins. He grabbed Grace and threw her aside before delivering a hard slap to Cassandra's face. "I told you not to talk back."

Grace stumbled, barely catching herself on the sofa.

Cassandra's cheek immediately turned bright red, her ears ringing with the force of the slap. Her mind went blank. This was not the first time she had been hit. To her father, hitting children was just part of the way things were.

Grace turned to Charles, holding his waist. "Don’t hit her anymore, she knows she was wrong." She looked at Cassandra, "Apologize to your father."

Charles glared at her.

Rachel sat on the sofa, adding fuel to the fire, "She deserves it. I’m her elder, her grandmother, and she dares talk back."

Grace was shoved aside again.

Cassandra’s tears flowed freely, covering her face. She looked at Grace, shaking her head, feeling wronged, suffocated, and helpless. Through clenched teeth, she whispered, "Sorry, Dad. I know I was wrong."

Charles raised his hand again, but Rachel slowly said, "Don’t hit her face. Don’t leave any marks, we need to meet the future in-laws next week."

"Go to your study and reflect," Charles ordered loudly.

Grace pulled Cassandra’s hand and led her upstairs. Cassandra was sobbing uncontrollably. She couldn’t say why she had left the banquet early; she didn’t want to upset her mother.

"Don’t cry, let me take a look at you," Grace said softly, gently rubbing Cassandra’s face. "Next time, don’t talk back. Let them scold you, just pretend you didn’t hear it."

"Waahh—"

Unable to hold back, Cassandra cried into Grace’s arms. "Mom, let’s leave. I don’t want to stay here for another day."

Grace patted her back, not saying anything.

Cassandra cried for a long time before finally stopping. Her long lashes were coated with tears. She wiped her face, sniffling, "Mom, don’t force me. I won’t talk back again."

Grace, her eyes red, pressed her forehead to Cassandra’s. "I promise you, before you turn twenty, I’ll take you away from here. Until then, bear with it."

"Okay." Cassandra lowered her head, tears falling.

Shortly after Grace left the study, Cassandra overheard an argument.

It was just Charles’s one-sided verbal abuse. Grace rarely retorted, occasionally saying a few words that enraged Charles into shouting.

Cassandra lay on the desk, her cheek swollen. She had no friends to confide in, only her cousin Vivian, but this was something she couldn’t tell her.

Just then, her phone rang. She glanced at the number—another unfamiliar one. She had rejected it twice, but it kept ringing. She picked it up with a heavy, congested voice.

Lorenzo was lying on the large bed in the presidential suite, a white blanket covering his body, just enough to shield his private parts. "What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Cassandra was rarely cared for, her eyes red and voice choked, "No, I’m fine. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. White?"

Lorenzo sat up, grabbed a cigarette from the bedside table, lit it, and spoke in a low voice, "Tell me, who bullied you?"

Cassandra burst into tears. It didn’t matter who was on the other side of the phone; even if it were a scammer, she would cry.

Lorenzo exhaled a smoke ring, his brow furrowing. His long fingers tapped the ashtray twice. "Add me to your contacts and turn on video. Let me see."

Why was she crying so much? Who made her cry?

Loren

zo felt inexplicably restless.

Cassandra added him to her contacts. With her face pressed against the desk, tears kept flowing. When the video call came in, she didn’t bother to wipe her tears. "Mr. White...," she sobbed. She just wanted to vent, to find someone to talk to.

Lorenzo sat up, putting the phone beside him. His voice was low and deep as he watched Cassandra's face, swollen from crying, her eyes puffy, the bloodshot veins barely visible. His heart softened.

Cassandra said nothing, just continued crying in front of the screen, her small mouth pouting in a pitiful way.

Lorenzo put on his clothes, preparing to get up. He set the phone aside, his voice heavy: "Stop crying, I’m coming to get you. Who made you cry? Tell me."

Cassandra was still crying, but as she saw Lorenzo undressing on the bed, with no regard for modesty, her tears momentarily stopped. His muscular waist and long, powerful legs were on full display, making her forget everything, including her tears.

"Good heavens..." She forgot to think or cry.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow and put on his black pants.

Cassandra immediately hung up the video call, mortified by the man’s audacity.

Lorenzo knew where Cassandra lived, but showing up at her house directly would definitely scare her. So, he texted her an address, asking her to meet him, with his driver waiting nearby to pick her up.

Cassandra looked at the message. She had wanted to refuse, but Lorenzo added another note: if she didn’t come, he would come to her.

She pouted. "He’s really bullying me..."