Chapter 115
Ethan, the heir to Arnold Corporation, was gradually stepping into his role, his presence growing in the media. Having been out of the public eye for years, his return caused the internet to go wild with viral speculation.
After cooking for the first time, Ethan found himself intrigued by it. To his left was a platter of pastries made by Madelyn, to his right a pile of recipes bought by George. He was so engrossed in it that he reached out to grab another pastry.
“You’ve eaten them all, Mr. Ethan.” George reminded him.
Ethan glanced over. True enough, all that remained were crumbs.
“You seem to be interested in learning to cook, Mr. Ethan.”
“And what do you think I’m doing?”
George looked surprised. “Are you learning to cook for Ms. Jent?”
Ethan mused, knowing that no one would like a man who could not walk. He figured if Madelyn would enjoy his cooking, he could cook for her. For some reason, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘Look at what I’m doing. I’m acting like some desperate man trying everything to woo her. Isn’t it a bit too soon?’ he thought.
“Sir.” The bodyguard entered the room.
Ethan responded. “Go ahead.” As the bodyguard quickly relayed the information he had, Ethan’s gaze slowly hardened, revealing his deep-seated anger and simmering hostility. “So that’s the life she’s living with the Jents?”
“We could move Ms. Jent into the room next door, prevent unnecessary disturbances.”
“Isn’t that a bit obvious?” Ethan asked.
“She’ll be discharged soon,” the bodyguard replied.
George pondered and said, “She’s emotionally unstable. We should think of ways to make her
feel better.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“She enjoys painting, and likely art exhibitions too. I recall Edward Waltz will be hosting an exhibition in Ventropolis soon.”
Edward Waltz was the most influential painter internationally, whose painting Ashes once fetched over $50 million. His exhibitions happened once a year, each time in a different region. The tickets were a hot commodity.
Ethan’s fingers tapped the armrest of his wheelchair. “Leyton, get in touch with Edward Waltz. We need those tickets by tonight.”
“Right away.”
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