?Chapter 899:


    Harlee, on the other hand, blended into the background, bundled in a heavy coat with her face half-obscured by a woolen hat.


    Brixton took charge, managing everything for Harlee with an enthusiasm untainted by their surroundings.


    After six months under Harlee’s guidance, Brixton’s admiration for Harlee had deepened into unwavering loyalty and respect. To Brixton, Harlee’smands were absolute. While Brixton was focused on Harlee, patrons around them whispered and spected about him.


    The moment Brixton walked in, cleaned his chair, and ordered, the once-deserted restaurant quickly buzzed with activity, every surrounding table upied within minutes.


    Everyone was curious about who he was, wondering if they could form a connection with him.


    Watching Brixton carefully wipe the table, Harlee’s lips curved into a subtle grin.


    “Still drawing attention wherever you go, Mr. Torres!”


    Brixton nced up, puzzled, having missed the teasing tone.


    But when he caught the “Mr. Torres” remark, his expression turned slightly uneasy.


    He gave Harlee a pitiful look.


    “Give me a break. I’ve been running around all day! I’m just your errand boy, remember?”


    Initially, Brixton thought Harlee was simply teasing him by calling him “Mr. Torres.” However, as he nced up and caught the eager, almost predatory stares from the surrounding crowd, he realized the deeper implication of her words.


    A smile crept across his face, tinged with both pride and a hint of embarrassment.


    After all, he had once been quite the yboy.


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    Yet, Brixton’s smile only fueled the excitement around him. The women nearby screamed in adoration, their eyes shining with excitement. It wasn’t just the women. The surrounding men, drawn by his friendly and open manner, were eager to connect with him.


    Building a connection with someone influential could dramatically shorten the challenges they faced in their career journey.


    With a sigh, Brixton rubbed his forehead in frustration.


    “Oh, my! This really isn’t my fault. I’m just in my regr work clothes.” He pped his thigh dramatically.


    “Alright, next time I’ll wear a long coat and a hat like yours. That should keep me out of sight!”


    Brixton hadn’t anticipated that Harlee would choose to dine at a street-side restaurant.


    Had he known, he would have opted for a more casual outfit right from the start.


    After three months of working under Harlee, Brixton knew her preferences well. She hated being the center of attention and always sought the most discreet way to go about her business, unless absolutely necessary. This tendency often led others to underestimate her.


    Harlee drew out her words, lifting an eyebrow as she spoke.


    “There’s no need for that.” She had simply felt like enjoying a meal at a street-side restaurant.


    Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from a nearby table as a rough-looking man flipped it over.


    Harlee nced over and noticed a woman crouched pitifully on the ground, huddled by a chair, her expression one of fear and vulnerability.


    While Harlee quickly diverted her gaze, Brixton continued to watch for a moment longer.


    However, his interest quickly faded when he caught the woman casting him a significant look while she argued with the rough-looking man. It was painfully clear what she intended.


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