Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 94: Chapter 94: Those Eyes Are Just Too Similar

"But it’s already very late. You should get some rest," Ivy Sherwood said.

"You’re not sleeping either, are you?" Quentin Blackwood’s voice was thin and cold, as icy as the man himself.

"It’s different for me. I’m on a business trip to Aethelgard."

"Mm."

Ivy Sherwood heard the man’s breathing and the sound of rustling paper. Then he spoke. "I know."

"You know?" Ivy Sherwood was surprised.

’How did Quentin Blackwood know? Could he be keeping tabs on me?’

Ivy Sherwood shook her head. ’I’m overthinking it. Quentin Blackwood is so busy. How would he have time to pay attention to me?’

"So, you didn’t call to ask me for help?"

"Of course not. I don’t need any help, and everything is going smoothly here. I just thought of you when I got here, so I made the call."

’Who would have thought he’d see it and actually call me back?’

"Mm."

The man didn’t say anything, nor did he hang up the phone.

"Are you about to go to sleep?" Ivy Sherwood’s fingers tightened around her phone. She didn’t know whether she should be the one to hang up.

"Not yet."

"Then talk with me a little longer." Though she had been exhausted, Ivy Sherwood suddenly felt all her fatigue vanish.

’Then again, there wasn’t much to talk about. She didn’t want to spread any negativity.’

"On second thought, let’s just get some rest. Good night." Ivy Sherwood hung up abruptly.

On the other end of the line, Quentin Blackwood watched as the call ended and the screen returned to the home menu. His thin lips parted slightly as he murmured two words: "Good night."

Quentin Blackwood opened his chat with Zane Linton. A message from Zane was still there: President Blackwood, should we offer Miss Sherwood some help?

Zane Linton knew everything about The Iris Brand and was aware of Ivy Sherwood’s current predicament. Charlie Rhodes had put the word out, and now no factory in Lustre dared to accept her orders.

But a single word from Quentin Blackwood could change everything.

Quentin Blackwood replied, "No need. She can handle it herself."

Ivy Sherwood had her own abilities and ideas; she wasn’t some canary to be kept in a gilded cage. He wanted to see just how high this woman could climb when faced with adversity.

...

After hanging up, Ivy Sherwood got back into bed.

She closed her eyes, and drowsiness quickly washed over her. For the first time in a while, she slept soundly.

Ivy Sherwood woke up bright and early the next morning. Despite having only slept for a few hours, she felt full of energy.

Things at the factory were nearly settled. The first batch was already being shipped out.

Ivy Sherwood was due to return to Lustre early the next morning, but tonight, she had a dinner meeting with the factory manager.

They had chosen the location. It was only when Ivy Sherwood arrived that she realized it was a very luxurious restaurant.

Ivy Sherwood had expected a simple meal and was surprised they were at such a fine establishment. But since the reservation was made, she wasn’t going to make a fuss.

She discussed the next steps with them, stressing that the quality of every single bottle must be guaranteed. There were to be absolutely no chemical additives, and any process that could be done by hand must be. Every batch had to be sent to Lustre for her personal inspection, and she would also arrange for someone to be on-site to supervise for a while.

They agreed to all her terms. Although it was more work, the price Ivy Sherwood was offering was excellent.

The manager had been planning to sell the factory because he could no longer afford to operate it. Now that Miss Sherwood had given it a new lease on life, he was naturally delighted.

They talked for a long while. Some wine was ordered for the table, but Ivy Sherwood didn’t drink much. Drinking was bad for business, and she didn’t dare overindulge again.

When the conversation wound down, the dinner party broke up. Ivy Sherwood walked to the entrance with the others, ready to leave.

"Miss Sherwood, thank you. We don’t have much to offer you, but please, you must accept this."

The people from the factory had prepared a gift for her.

"I can’t accept this. I appreciate the thought, and I’m very grateful to you all as well."

"Please, take it. It’s nothing valuable, just some local specialties."

"Thank you, but I really can’t." Ivy Sherwood stood firm. She couldn’t accept gifts from them.

The entrance of The International Hotel was lined with luxury cars. A top-of-the-line Maybach was parked right at the front.

A chauffeur got out and opened the door. Two men in suits, both well over six feet tall, stepped out of the car.

They had an extraordinary air about them, a kind of restrained, profound composure.

Ivy Sherwood had her back to them. While politely refusing the gift, she gestured and accidentally bumped her arm against one of the men as he walked past.

"I’m so sorry," Ivy Sherwood apologized at once. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes were filled with apology. But the man she had bumped into froze for a moment when he saw her face.

Before he could speak, his companion cut in. "You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Trying to throw yourself at my brother!"

"Miles!" the man snapped.

Miles looked aggrieved. "What, brother? Isn’t it true? How many women have used this exact trick just to get your attention?"

"That was absolutely not my intention," Ivy Sherwood insisted. ’I didn’t even know anyone was standing behind me!’

’These two men are admittedly handsome,’ she thought, ’but I’ve seen better!’

"If you need to see a doctor, I’ll take full responsibility," Ivy Sherwood said.

"In your dreams. Still trying to say it wasn’t on purpose? Your intentions are as plain as day!" the one called Miles Mercer scoffed.

"I’m fine," the man said, his gaze fixed on Ivy Sherwood’s eyes.

Her eyes were clear and bright, beautiful beyond words.

Her face was rather plain, but those eyes gave it a captivating spirit.

But in the man’s mind, another face surfaced. The eyes... they were just too similar.

Seeing he was fine, Ivy Sherwood said nothing more. She refused the gift from the factory owner one last time and got into her car.

Even after Ivy Sherwood’s car had driven away, the man continued to stare in its direction.

"Brother, what’s with you? Are you smitten?" Miles Mercer asked, practically begging for a punch.

"Don’t you think her eyes look a little like our aunt’s?" the man murmured.

Miles Mercer was astonished. "How is that possible? I’ve never met our aunt in person, but I’ve seen the photos. She was a legendary beauty. That woman just now was completely ordinary, the kind you wouldn’t even notice in a crowd."

Hearing this, the man couldn’t help but frown.

"If she had a daughter, she would be about that woman’s age."

"Our aunt was pregnant back then, it’s true, but how do you know it was a girl? What if it was a boy? Besides, we’ve been searching for her for so long without a single clue. What are the odds of randomly bumping into someone on the street who happens to be related? It’s like one in a billion."

"Just forget it, brother. If that woman really is our aunt’s daughter, I’ll... I’ll wash my hair while doing a handstand!" Miles Mercer quickly amended his wager.

The man, however, merely glanced at him before looking away. He started walking. "Let’s go. Perhaps I’m just overthinking it."

’Indeed, just as Miles said,’ he thought, ’how could we find someone we’ve been looking for for so long just by chance?’

’Such a coincidence couldn’t possibly exist in this world.’