True Heiress Returns to Her Unemployed Rich Family (Arabella) novel Chapter 642

Matthew glanced down at his empty glass.

Derek noticed too and signaled the waiter. "Get Mr. Stewart another drink, will you?"

Soon, a fresh glass of red wine was set in front of Matthew.

"Come on, Mr. Stewart," Derek said, raising his own glass once more.

Matthew picked his up, clinked it lightly against Derek's, and finished it in one go.

He set the glass down firmly. "It's getting late—I should head out."

With his goal accomplished, Derek was more than happy to walk him to the door.

But just as they reached the entrance of the banquet hall, someone bumped hard into Derek, splashing liquid across his suit jacket and leaving a large, damp stain.

"What the hell? Watch where you're going!" Derek snapped, irritation flashing across his face.

"Sorry, sir—it was an accident," the janitor mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

He pulled a rag from his cart. "Let me get that for you—"

"Just stop," Derek cut him off, exasperated. "Get out of the way."

"Really, I'm sorry," the janitor insisted. He rummaged in his cart and pulled out a folded plastic bag. "I've got a clean work shirt in here. You could change into it for now."

"Unbelievable. You're done after this," Derek muttered, snatching the bag from him.

Matthew glanced over. "Don't worry about walking me out, Derek. Go clean up."

"Well..." Derek hesitated. He did want to change—the event was still going, and he couldn't walk around like this.

Even a plain work shirt was better than a stained dress shirt.

"Go ahead," Matthew said. "Andy's bringing the car around—he'll be here any minute." With that, he turned and continued toward the exit.

Derek gave a dismissive wave. "Alright, I'll catch up with you later. My apologies—I'll stop by Horizon Corp tomorrow to make it up to you."

Matthew didn't answer, already walking away.

The janitor kept his head low, standing silently to the side.

"Don't just stand there," Derek said, scowling. "You're in the way." He turned and headed toward the restrooms.

Only then did the janitor lift his head, a faint, satisfied smirk touching the corners of his mouth.

Once outside the hotel, Matthew began to feel lightheaded.

In the distance, a car approached, its bright headlights making it hard to keep his eyes open.

"Mr. Stewart, right this way." A voice said—it sounded like Andy's.

"Yeah," Matthew replied, moving toward the vehicle.

Someone helped him into the back seat. Matthew frowned slightly. Something felt off.

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