Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Quentin Blackwood Sees Ivy Sherwood at the Clubhouse
Ivy Sherwood had just left the Sherwood residence when she received a call from Timothy Sherwood summoning her to the office.
The Sherwood Company specialized in fragrances, and while Ivy Sherwood worked there, she was only a team leader in the planning department.
The moment Ivy arrived at Timothy Sherwood’s office, he asked, "I heard Quentin Blackwood gave you quite a gift last night?"
A cold sneer touched Ivy’s eyes. ’He doesn’t care how I fared at the Blackwood Family’s banquet last night, or if anyone bullied me. The first thing he asks about is the painting.’
"You know about that already? Don’t tell me you have a mole in the Blackwood Family?"
"Don’t be ridiculous. Where’s the painting?"
"It’s at a museum," Ivy said.
"What?" Timothy’s eyes widened. ’She sent something so valuable to a museum?’
"I donated it. If you want to see it, you can go to the museum."
Ivy had taken care of it before coming to the Sherwood Company.
She knew the gift was too valuable. It wouldn’t be safe in her hands; someone would inevitably come coveting it.
Sylvia Blackwood had wanted the painting yesterday, and it was obvious she wasn’t the only one. If Ivy had kept it, Timothy Sherwood would have tried to take it from her too.
So, it was better to donate it. That way, more people could see and appreciate it, which was the true purpose of such a masterpiece.
"You!" Timothy was so angry he nearly had a heart attack.
The painting had a market value of at least two hundred million, and Ivy had just donated it without a word?
The company was already in the middle of a financial crisis. With that two hundred million, they could have certainly weathered the storm. Now, it was all down the drain.
"Go get that painting back right now!"
"I’ve already signed the donation agreement. It can’t be taken back." Ivy stood ramrod straight, her voice flat.
For a long moment, Timothy was speechless. "You..."
"Is there anything else, Father? If not, I’ll get back to work."
"Stop! Walker Group still hasn’t signed our contract for next quarter. That’s our company’s biggest account. President Walker is going abroad tomorrow. If you can’t get it signed before he leaves, you will marry into the Blackwood Family immediately!"
’At least if Ivy marries into their family, we can get a substantial bride price.’
Walker Group seemed determined not to renew the contract. If they lost this major client, the Sherwood Company’s future would be even bleaker.
President Walker had been unreachable, and the only lead they had was that he would be at a private club tonight. Timothy was already at his wit’s end when Ruby Sterling called and suggested he let Ivy give it a try.
"And if I do get the contract signed, what’s in it for me? Can I have Thea Sherwood’s position?"
Thea Sherwood had been made a manager in the Perfumery Technology Department right after joining the company. Ivy, by contrast, had started as a bottom-rung intern and had only made it to team leader after a full year.
Timothy was certain Ivy couldn’t pull it off, so he agreed. "If you really manage to secure the contract, I’ll give you Thea’s position!"
"I hope you keep your word."
The commerce department gave Ivy a single address: the most famous and exclusive private club in Lustre.
Ivy spent the entire day researching the company’s background, its development over recent years, and the chairman’s personal life. By the end, she had a general idea of what kind of man President Walker was.
She then drew up a detailed partnership proposal tailored to Walker Group’s development and future prospects—a clear show of good faith.
She hadn’t slept at all the night before, and between her research and anxiety, she had barely eaten. Her stomach felt hollow. She tried to eat something but could only manage a few bites.
Knowing there would be drinking involved, Ivy forced herself to eat a little to line her stomach and took a sobriety aid in advance.
Soon, evening arrived. Ivy took the materials she had prepared and headed to the club.
...
Quentin Blackwood hadn’t returned to Lustre for his nephew’s wedding. Though his main operations were in Aethelgard, he had a branch office in Lustre. His real target was the entire Blackwood Family.
After a full day of handling business affairs and arranging the work to follow, Quentin Blackwood received a call from a good friend.
"Third Master Blackwood, you’re a cold one, aren’t you? Standing us up last time was one thing, but then we invited you out last night and you said you were busy. What about tonight? Don’t tell me you’re busy again?" Julian Grant’s disgruntled voice came through the phone.
Quentin Blackwood glanced at the time, his thin lips parting slightly. "Address."
"I’ll text it to you. And don’t worry, this place is completely private. Graham Sherwood and I have already ordered drinks. Want me to call over a few girls for you?"
"Get lost."
"Alright, alright, I get it! Everyone knows you’re practically a monk, Third Master Blackwood, with your Buddha Beads and holier-than-thou attitude. Just hurry up and get here." Julian Grant quickly hung up.
Julian Grant and Graham Sherwood had met Quentin after he was brought into the Blackwood Family. Theirs was a friendship forged in conflict; they had originally tried to teach Quentin a lesson, only to be soundly beaten by him. From that day on, they called him boss.
They had never lost contact, even after Quentin left for Aethelgard.
Upon arriving at the club, Quentin was led upstairs by a member of the staff.
Julian Grant owned this club, and the third floor housed his exclusive suite.
As he was passing the second floor, Quentin suddenly spotted a familiar figure.
’Ivy Sherwood? What is she doing here?’
Quentin stopped in his tracks. He saw a man step out of a private room, his hand resting on Ivy Sherwood’s shoulder in a familiar way. The man said something to her, then guided her back into the room.
Quentin’s gaze turned instantly cold. ’So,’ he thought, ’she’s no different from the others after all.’
’She’d come onto him to get the engagement called off; it’s no surprise she’d do the same with other men.’
’What kind of decent person could a family like the Sherwoods possibly raise?’
Quentin averted his gaze and continued straight upstairs, where Julian Grant and Graham Sherwood had already been waiting for some time.
Seeing Quentin, they felt as if ages had passed. "Third Master Blackwood, it’s not easy to get an audience with you these days! And you’re late!"
"Is that so? Then I’ll take two as my penalty." With that, Quentin picked up a glass from the table and downed the liquor.
That expressionless, decisive action... No matter how they looked at it, something was clearly on his mind.
Julian Grant and Graham Sherwood exchanged a look. ’Why does it feel like Quentin’s in a bad mood?’
"So what really happened last time? I heard you made it to the club, but then you just left?" Julian Grant asked. "I also heard a girl had you cornered?"
Quentin shot him a look, and Julian Grant felt his chest tighten.
Even when they were kids, Quentin’s gaze had been terrifying—ice-cold, as if devoid of any warmth.
They knew back then that he would never be easily held down by the Blackwood Family.
Now, as an adult, he’d been forged through countless trials, and the resulting composure he possessed was far beyond his years—and even more frightening. That look was countless times more terrifying than the one Julian’s own father gave him.
"You own this club?" Quentin asked.
"Yeah. You can come whenever you want, no reservation needed!"
"Who’s in that room downstairs?"
"Since when are you interested in who’s downstairs? I’ll go find out for you."
Soon, Julian Grant returned with the information. "It’s a guy from Lustre who’s in the fragrance business, Gabriel Walker. His business is huge, but the man himself is a real piece of work. His wife keeps him on a short leash at home, so he loves to secretly fool around with other women on the side."
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