The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 161

She paused.

"My father was absolutely furious. He said the man was a peasant reaching for a queen. But your grandfather didn't get angry. He just stood there. He stood his ground outside for three days and three nights. Eventually, my father had no choice. He told him that if he could make a name for himself abroad, he would allow him to marry his daughter."

The older woman looked out the window, a deep nostalgia swimming in her eyes.

"It took him five years. In five years, he went from having absolutely nothing to running the largest rubber plantation in the Southern Hemisphere. Then he expanded the business into Europe and the Americas. That's how the Foster family empire was built."

She drew her gaze back and looked at Garrison.

"Your grandfather valued family above all else in this life. He always said that lost money could be earned back, but once a person was gone, you had nothing left."

Garrison kept his head bowed, remaining completely silent.

Eleanor looked at him, her gaze a mixture of scrutinizing assessment and a faint trace of comforting relief.

"Tell me. What do you need?"

Garrison lifted his head.

"A helicopter. Departing from Argentina, taking me straight to Antarctica. I'm afraid... taking a ship will be too late."

Eleanor's eyebrows twitched slightly, but she didn't ask a single question.

"Understood."

Garrison stood up and offered a deep, respectful nod.

"Thank you, Grandmother."

Eleanor waved a hand, signaling that the formalities were unnecessary.

"Go," she said, pausing for a brief second before adding, "And bring my granddaughter-in-law back safely."

Just then, a voice called out from a short distance away. Garrison looked up.

A black SUV was parked near the entrance with its door wide open. A man leaned against the frame, holding a cup of coffee and grinning at him.

The man was in his forties, sporting a scruffy beard, thick eyebrows, and bright eyes. He wore a black leather jacket, faded jeans, and a pair of sturdy hiking boots. He had a roguish, rough-around-the-edges vibe, looking more like a backpacker heading out for a camping trip.

"Heading to Antarctica for a vacation?" the man chuckled.

Garrison frowned, his footsteps coming to a halt.

"Who are you?"

"Coincidentally, I'm on vacation too." The man ignored the question, spinning his car keys around his finger as he spoke in a drawling, bored tone.

"I heard you're still looking for a bodyguard?" He pocketed the keys and stared at Garrison with a playful smirk. "How about me?"