Marrying my secret admirer after my husband's fake death novel Chapter 94

For a split second, Beckett looked caught off guard. “Mr. Hawksley, have we met before?” he asked.

Justin gave a faint, easy smile. “Maybe. Not sure. Why do you ask?”

Realizing he’d gotten sidetracked, Beckett quickly steered the conversation back to business. “It’s an open secret that Pioneer Prime is a much better fit for this project than Lucent Star Group. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Justin’s gaze lingered on the oil painting in front of him. He couldn’t help but admire Edith’s talent–she really did deserve to be Northcrest University’s top entrant. The clusters of white gardenias seemed to glow against the inky black of night.

Yes, for the first time, “radiant” felt like the right word for white gardenias. Justin arched an eyebrow, muttering under his breath, “How could she be interested in someone like him?”

Beckett, still on the other end of the line, was taken aback. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawksley, I didn’t catch that—what did you say?”

Justin tore his gaze from the painting and lounged back on the sofa. “You really think Pioneer Prime is a better fit than Lucent Star Group? Hah. I don’t see it.”

Beckett rushed to respond, his nerves showing. “Pioneer Prime is absolutely a better fit. But if you disagree, Mr. Hawksley, we can prepare a comprehensive comparative report—”

He had a lot more to say, but Justin had already lost interest.

“I only work with people, not animals,” Justin cut him off. “At least the CEO

of Lucent Star Group still qualifies as human.”

Beckett stood there, still holding Justin’s assistant’s phone, struck speechless for a good ten seconds.

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Chapter 94

It was obvious Justin wasn’t about to wait for a reply. Men like Beckett hardly ever got the courtesy of a pause from him.

Justin spoke again. “I hear from my assistant you’re planning to stir up trouble at Hawksley Group? Go ahead if you dare. See for yourself what we do to people like you.”

Guys like Beckett only ever picked on those who couldn’t fight back–like the women of the Sumner family. Cause trouble at Hawksley Group? There were plenty of people here who’d put him in his place.

The assistant watched Beckett’s face change colors, clearly enjoying the show.

Far more entertaining than any million–dollar painting hanging in Mr. Hawksley’s bedroom.

“Mr. Vance, how long are you planning to hold onto my phone?” he prompted.

The screen had already gone dark–Mr. Hawksley had obviously hung up a while ago. Yet this man was still clutching the phone to his ear, as if in a trance. The assistant couldn’t help but wonder what words had stunned him so thoroughly.

Beckett finally snapped out of it and handed the phone back, still baffled as to why Mr. Hawksley would judge him so harshly.

Desperate, Beckett turned to Justin’s assistant for help. Gone was his earlier arrogance–he lowered his voice and asked, “Is there some kind of misunderstanding between me and Mr. Hawksley?”

The assistant wiped the phone with a tissue, put it away, and replied with a polite smile, “I’m just an assistant. There’s nothing I can tell you. If you’re planning to make trouble, be my guest.”

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