Anyone could tell he was taking a jab at Zeke Walton.
How could Zeke Walton, in his current physical and mental state, possibly endure such ridicule?
Cecelia Archer was so startled she immediately started hitting Damien Vaughn, but he paid her no mind.
"What are you hitting me for? Is he so useless that no one’s allowed to point it out? The great young master of the Walton Family wants to be self-reliant, which is fine, but why of all things become a delivery driver? Those who know might say he’s not picky and can handle hardship. Those who don’t might think the Walton Family went bankrupt."
"You should be glad he’s not your son. Otherwise, after all the trouble of raising him for so many years, seeing him debase himself like this would be enough to make you cough up blood."
"He’s in this state, and he’s still worried about his pride? Pride is something you earn, not something others give you. Plenty of people in this world need their pride saved. You and I might humor him, but what about everyone else? Even if everyone accommodates him, does he really have the standing to expect it?"
Cecelia was left completely speechless, looking over at Zeke with her heart in her throat.
Thankfully, he wasn’t a three-year-old. The violent, unbearable breakdown she had imagined didn’t happen.
Zeke just squeezed his eyes shut in pain, pressing his hands to his stomach as if the words had been a physical blow.
"Zeke..."
"I’m fine." A thin sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead. Zeke took a few seconds to recover before opening his eyes again.
"He’s right. I’ve let myself go, and I’ve failed to repay my parents for raising me. I deserve this."
"..."
"I really can’t go on like this. I can’t bring shame to the Walton Family."
Cecelia silently breathed a sigh of relief and reached out to gently rub his chest in a soothing motion.
"I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Take it slow, there’s no rush. I know you just left home and probably couldn’t think of a better solution at the time. It’ll be fine once you’ve calmed down. Don’t you know fashion design? If you really don’t like the family business, you can go back to that. As long as you work hard, you’ll definitely succeed."
Zeke let her soothe him for a moment, then leaned back against the seat and spoke slowly.
"I don’t want to do fashion design anymore. My dad shut down my studio. I don’t want to rely on him again."
Cecelia was shocked. She hadn’t expected his father to be so ruthless. She was silent for a moment.
"Then what do you want to do? Isn’t fashion design your passion?"
"I can always pick that hobby up again; it’s not going anywhere. There’s no challenge in it for me right now, so I don’t feel like doing it."
Although Zeke had suffered physically over the past few days, there was still a hint of naivete in him.
"I want to try a different industry."
’So after all that, does he still want to be a delivery driver?’
Cecelia didn’t know how to respond, waiting for him to continue. Zeke said seriously,
"Last year, someone approached me about investing in a website, but I turned them down. Thinking back now, I really wasted a great idea. Cecelia, I want to sell fruit."
Cecelia thought she had misheard. "What?"
Zeke explained, "When I say sell fruit, I don’t mean just setting up a street stall or renting a storefront. I mean creating my own website for fruit marketing and delivery. For example, we could launch a ’Thoughtful Boyfriend’ or ’Thoughtful Husband’ series where you can express your love to your girlfriend or wife by having fruit delivered daily. For holidays, birthdays, and Valentine’s Day, we could offer special couple’s packages. We could also partner with major supermarkets, flower shops, and home goods stores to offer a series of special promotions and gift bundles..."
"As far as I know, this is an untapped market in the country, maybe even globally. Given the current social trends and consumer spending levels, if I plan it out well, it’s bound to be a huge success."


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