Chapter 4

It was the last month of my contract. While continuing to oversee operations at Layton Group, I quietly managed the handover behind the scenes. Benson had advised me to let Camille go through some growing pains and give her the time she needed to adjust to leadership. But that was never my responsibility. My duty was to ensure a seamless transition. Whether Camille could bear the weight afterward was no longer my concern. Besides handling the handover, I was laying the groundwork for my next move. Layton Group's foreign trade network and resources were already in place. By maintaining control of the shipping resources, I could secure financing and establish my own foreign trade company. Investment wouldn't be limited to just the Layton family. With a business model that's more profitable and efficient than the rest, I'd easily attract a wide range of investors. "Mr. Wexler, here are last month's approval documents. Ms. Layton has rejected a request from our biggest partner, Summit Building Supplies," the head of the foreign trade department reported. I frowned. "She denied their request? "But it didn't sound unreasonable. Do you know what her reasons were?" I took the file and skimmed through the details. Summit Building Supplies had proposed switching to the Pacific Crest route to speed up their supply cycle. This change would also boost their monthly shipping capacity. Opening the Pacific Crest route was already part of Layton Group's expansion plan. More shipments meant more business. There was no downside for the company. So why had Camille rejected them? Her reasoning left me completely baffled. "Mr. Wexler, how should I respond to the team at Summit Building Supplies?" I paused, tempted to call Camille for an explanation. But with less than a month left on my contract, I figured it was best to follow her lead. After all, the authority lay with her as chairwoman. "Just respond with the explanation outlined in the document," I said, handing the file back with a nod. The department head looked taken aback. "If we go that route, we risk losing Summit Building Supplies. Several companies already use the Pacific Crest route. It would be easy for them to jump ship." I nodded again. "We'll follow Ms. Layton's decision." "Understood." The department head didn't say another word and quietly walked away. Though disappointed, he had to accept that this was Camille's ultimate decision. … I remained at the office late into the evening. The transition was messy, but managing disorder was part of the job. During a short break, I finally had a moment to make some instant noodles. I had barely taken a few bites when my phone rang. "Max, you've got ten minutes to get here." Camille's impatient voice crackled through the speaker. I frowned. "Are you drinking again?" "Mind your own damn business! Can't you understand simple words? "You've got nine minutes now." The line went dead before I could say anything else. Seconds later, my screen flashed with a location ping. I let out a sigh and dumped the noodles into the trash. The GPS led me downtown, right to a karaoke lounge. Of all places… it just had to be here once more. Camille spent nearly every day wrapped in a fog of indulgence and recklessness. Her drinking had nearly brought catastrophe three years ago. But she never seemed to learn. Perhaps that was the kind of entitlement that came with being a pampered heiress. 15 minutes later, I hurried in, out of breath. When I pushed open the door to the lavish private room, I was surprised to see over a dozen familiar faces gathered inside. All of them were former college classmates. A few had even been in my major. Was this some kind of reunion? Before I could fully register what was happening, the teasing started. "Look at how obedient Max is. He comes running as soon as Camille snaps her fingers!" "Haha! Isn't he the legendary top student from our year?" "What are you talking about? He wasn't just a brainiac. He was also the heartthrob of our entire major. You wouldn't believe how many people had crushes on him back then." "Hey Max, come sit over here!" someone called, waving me over. It was Kenneth McReid, the class representative for our major back then. Kenneth could be a bit arrogant, but he always treated me with respect since I consistently earned a scholarship each semester. "And what makes him think he deserves a seat?" Camille snapped impatiently. "Stand over here." After a brief pause, I steadied myself and nodded. "Yes, Ms. Layton." In the private room, I stood silently by Camille's side, feeling like nothing more than a mere attendant. "Step back. You're blocking the way," Camille said curtly. "Alright," I replied with a nod. No one else dared to utter a word. Their eyes reflected a mix of emotions—some reluctant to speak, while others gleamed with a playful, mischievous spark. "What was that old saying again?" someone asked. Kenneth finally spoke up. "They say the hardest workers usually end up in the most ordinary jobs. Ms. Layton managing Max is a textbook example."