Chapter 8 Meeting an Old Acquaintance

The next afternoon, the sun cast a warm glow. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing everything in a gentle golden light. It was warm. Last night, David and Quinn had stated clearly: if there was anything she wanted, she only needed to ask. If she wanted to go out, the driver would take her. Taking advantage of this opportunity, she had something she needed to do. Hearing she wanted to go out to see Ocean City’s sights, Quinn didn’t think much of it and immediately had the driver, Victor, take her. The car stopped in front of a shopping mall. After sending Victor away, Windy didn’t enter the mall. She strolled along the street, walking slowly, savoring this rare freedom. It felt good to be alive. It felt so good to be alive and free. Half an hour later, she arrived at her destination. This was the largest entertainment district in Ocean City, the most bustling area of glitz and nightlife. She had come here several times in her previous life, but each time left a bitter memory. Every time, she had seen her fiancé Morgan and Elsa together. Back then, she had been so foolish. Every time, Elsa would explain it away, saying they were merely discussing business, and besides, there were always other friends present. She had believed it. She had thought her sister was so good, her fiancé loved her so much — surely it was just her own dirty thoughts. She had even felt guilty, blaming herself for doubting them. Thinking about it now, the so-called love between her and Morgan had been nothing but a scam from the start. Why had they joined forces to fool her? It was for her shares. The Sue family’s grandmother, who was staying at a nursing home, had left her a large shareholding — her only relative who had truly treated her well. Windy was lost in thought and unknowingly walked into the center of the district. During the day, this place — usually a sleepless city — seemed a little desolate. Scattered pedestrians bundled up tightly in coats, hats, scarves, and gloves, exposing only their eyes and noses as they pressed forward against the cold wind. The sky looked like a soft ink painting. The sun clung weakly to the edge of the clouds. Yellowed leaves floated down occasionally, swept up by the wind, spinning, dancing, then scattering along the roadside, leaving only loneliness and silence. As dusk slowly fell, Windy stopped in front of a bar. She looked up. A flashy sign came into view — "Past and Present." A place of debauchery and luxury. She had just reached the door when the security guard blocked her. "Yo, you’re early. We’re not open yet," he said, glancing contemptuously at the girl holding a small bag and wearing a shabby cotton coat. Another little girl thinking she could land a rich man, he thought. Windy didn’t bother responding to the attitude. She said calmly, "I’m here to see someone." The guard was about to snap back, but when he met her sharp, blade-like eyes, he involuntarily shivered. For such a young girl, her gaze was terrifying. He forced himself to stay calm and asked, "Who are you looking for?" "Ms. Susan." ... Under the soft lights, murals and delicate wood carvings lined the walls, giving the place a charming atmosphere. A bright beam of light cut through the stained glass door, scattering colorful patches onto the floor. Windy sat quietly on the sofa, holding a wine glass in her right hand. She took a light sip, just wetting her lips, her face unreadable in the dim light. Across from her sat a stunningly glamorous woman. Red lips, voluminous curls, slender pale fingers holding a cigarette. Two bodyguards stood behind her, one on either side, all three eyeing Windy with hostility. Ms. Susan blew out a puff of smoke and glanced at her, speaking first. "You come looking for me and say nothing? I’ll give you one minute. After that, get lost." Windy set down her wine glass and calmly met the woman’s eyes. Her thin lips parted. "I came to discuss a deal." Ms. Susan snorted coldly. She never should have agreed to this meeting. A little country girl dressed in cheap rags, daring to talk business? Did she even know what kind of business Ms. Susan did? If it weren’t for her young age, she would have been thrown out already. "Are you joking? Do you even know what business I’m in?" Ms. Susan’s eyes raked over her, sneering. "Wearing that and you think you can negotiate with me? Hmph." She stood up coldly. "Get rid of her." What a waste of time. She prided herself on her sharp eye for people, and this one wasn’t worth even a second look. She took a step forward, when a clear, icy voice rang out behind her. "Don’t you want to see your daughter again?" Ms. Susan’s body froze. She turned her head sharply to look at the composed girl sitting on the sofa. Slowly, she came back and sat down again. Raising her right hand slightly, her two bodyguards nodded respectfully and left the room, closing the door behind them. Ms. Susan’s arrogance and casual demeanor were gone. She now stared at Windy with sharp, almost anxious eyes. "Who exactly are you? What do you want?" Seeing her reaction, Windy’s tone softened. "Jane. I told you, I’m here to discuss a deal. I’ll explain." Jane. She actually called her Jane. Ms. Susan had almost forgotten that name. Ms. Susan was only her alias. She had been using it since she was sixteen, ever since she had run away and survived by her wits. She hadn't heard her real name in so long that when Windy spoke it, she froze for a second, feeling momentarily dazed. Windy continued, "One promise in exchange for news about your daughter." Ms. Susan’s pupils contracted sharply. Her promise? What big talk. But her daughter was dead. How dare this girl use her daughter as a bargaining chip? The anger surged up and she snapped, "Don’t joke about that. Or else I won’t be polite!" "She’s still alive." The moment Ms. Susan finished shouting, Windy’s calm voice landed word by word. Windy's gaze was firm, unwavering, not like someone telling a lie. Ms. Susan’s whole body trembled. Her heart shook violently. How could it be? How could her daughter still be alive? The words of doubt hovered on her lips but didn’t come out. She didn’t know why, but even if it was a lie, she wanted to believe it, just once. Her daughter had been so young. Only five years old when she was kidnapped. She had personally seen the video — her daughter’s small, round belly stabbed over a dozen times, blood pouring out, before being thrown into the sea. She had watched the knife go in white and come out red. She had seen her daughter’s agonized face. She could still see it clearly, even now. How could she possibly still be alive? How? She had barely survived the heartbreak back then. And now someone dared to stand here and tell her her daughter was still alive.