<b>Chapter </b><b>161 </b>
Author’s POV:
:
<b>58 </b>
The small box sat in Ethan’s palm, its craftsmanship catching the moonlight filtering through the Koenigsegg’s
windows.
“This looks like a gift,” he said, turning the intricately crafted container in his hands.
Jade nced at it briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “Just some amethyst trimmings I had made into a small piece.”
“You can take it if you want,” she added casually. “I think your mother might appreciate it.”
Curious, Ethan carefully opened the box. Insidey a pair of elegant amethyst earrings set in tinum with small diamonds entuating the deep purple stones.
“These are stunning,” he said, genuinely impressed. “This is exactly the kind of piece my mother would love.”
“Then they’re yours,” Jade replied simply, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
The Haxton family estate stood imposingly against the predawn sky. Inside, Mrs. Sophia Haxton was sleeping when a soft knock at her bedroom door roused her.
“Mother?” Ethan’s voice was gentle as he entered.
Eleanor sat up, her silver–streaked blonde hair falling around her shoulders. “Ethan? What time is it?”
“Just after five,” he replied. “I went to the shore with Miss Morgan after President Thornton’s party.”
A curious light flickered in Eleanor’s eyes. “The young woman who saved your father?”
“The very same,‘ Ethan confirmed, taking the small box from his pocket. “She wanted you to have this.”
Eleanor epted the box with hesitation. “Oh, but we haven’t even properly thanked her for what she did for your father. It doesn’t seem right to ept gifts from her before your father and I have expressed our gratitude.”
Ethan’s <b>response </b>was simple and firm. “It’s appropriate.”
Eleanor opened the box, her breath catching <b>as </b>she saw the earrings. “These are exquisite,‘ she whispered, touching the amethysts gently.
That night, while Ethan Haxton slept soundly with a satisfied smile on his face, others found themselves lying
17:13 Wed, Sep 24 <b>G </b>
…
awake, thoughts of Jade Morgan keeping sleep at bay.
:
58
By morning, the gossip had spread like wildfire through the upper echelons of East Coast society. Text messages and phone calls flew between the elite households.
“Did you hear about the girl at Philip’s birthday?”
“They say she saved William Haxton’s life.”
“I heard Henry Astor himself intervened when Catherine Sullivan tried to make a scene.”
The story grew with each retelling: a mysterious young woman with connections to the Thornton family, the Sheldon family, Walter Morrison, Chase Astor, and even Ethan Haxton had appeared out of nowhere and captivated
everyone.
The sleek ck Bentley rolled smoothly up to Princeton University’s gates. Archer Sullivan sat in the back, his expression contemtive as he gazed at the historic campus.
President Philip Thornton was reviewing funding proposals when Archer was shown into his office.
“Archer, what brings you to Princeton today?” His tone was light, but his eyes were keenly observant.
“I’m actually here about Jade Morgan,” Archer replied, settling into a chair.
Thornton’s expression shifted subtly. “Ah, Miss Morgan. Brilliant young woman. Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I wanted to apologize for my daughter’s behavior at your party. I understand there was some tension
between them.”
Thornton waved a dismissive hand. “Already resolved. Miss Morgan isn’t one to hold grudges over such matters.”
“Nevertheless, I’d like to apologize in person,” Archer persisted.
After a brief phone call, Thornton nodded. “She’ll meet you at the campus coffee shop in twenty minutes.”
Archer thanked, “I’ve heard she’s from Cloud City. She reminds me very much of someone I used to know. I’m hoping her parents might be old acquaintances of mine.”
Thornton raised an eyebrow. “An interesting coincidence, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. From what I understand, she doesn’t look much like either of her parents. Perhaps you’re mistaken.”
17:14 Wed, Sep 24 <b>G </b>
:
The campus coffee shop was busy with the mid–morning rush when Archer arrived. He spotted Jade immediately, sitting at a window table with herptop open, her fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard.
<i>Like </i><i>her</i>, <i>so </i><i>like </i><i>her</i><i>, </i>he thought, a mixture of emotions washing over him.
“Miss Morgan,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
Jade gestured to the chair across from her.
“I wanted to apologize for my daughter’s behavior at President Thornton’s birthday celebration.”
“If you’re here for Catherine, there’s no need,” Jade replied, closing herptop.
The directness of her response caught Archer off guard. The young woman before him wasn’t timid or deferential; she was confident, almost challenging.
“I understand you’re from Cloud City,” he continued. “I’ve spent some time there myself.”
“Do you have anything else?”
58
She always disliked this kind of roundabout probing. Since Archer wouldn’t get to the point, Jade had no interest in wasting more time with him.
“Nothing else then,” Jade said firmly, standing up. “Goodbye, Mr. Sullivan.”
Archer watched her walk away, reminding himself not to jump to conclusions until he had proof. Making assumptions without evidence would only lead to embarrassment.
Back in his car, Archer made a call. “Dominic, it’s Archer. Something’se up–I need to make a quick trip to
abroad.”
“Abroad?” his brother’s surprised voice came through. “What for?<b>” </b>
Just some business that needs my personal attention,” Archer lied smoothly.
After ending the call, Archer turned to his assistant in the front passenger seat. “Dave, we’re taking a detour. I need you to find the address for a Morgan family in Cloud City.”
Cloud City’s low–ie neighborhood was <b>a </b>stark contrast to the manicuredwns Archer Sullivan was ustomed to. The Bentley looked conspicuously out of ce as it rolled down the cracked asphalt street.
Archer stared at the small, dpidated house with peeling paint and a sagging front porch. Something inside him
…
ached at the thought of a child of his family–if that’s what Jade was–growing up in such surroundings.
At the door, he pressed the doorbell. No one answered.
“They ain’t home, called a voice from next door. An elderly woman stood on her porch. “Linda’s over at my ce, helping with my groceries.”
A few minutester, Linda Morgan emerged from the neighbor’s house, her attention immediately drawn to the luxury car.
“Mrs. Morgan?” Archer asked, extending his hand. “I’m Archer Sullivan.”
The name clearly meant nothing to her, but the suit and car did. Her demeanor changed instantly, a wide smile spreading across her face.
“Mr. Sullivan! What a surprise!” she eximed, her voice rising an octave. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was hoping we could speak privately,” Archer said, gesturing toward her house.
“Of course, pleasee in,” Linda said, her smile widening with enthusiasm.
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