After Winnie Morgan left, a quiet settled over the house.
Amanda didn't ask James about his ex-girlfriend. She leisurely flipped through TV channels until she landed on a melodramatic romance, watching intently and occasionally popping a grape into her mouth.
James didn't offer any explanations either. Seeing Amanda so relaxed, he playfully opened his mouth and let out an "Ahhâ" sound.
Amanda giggled and picked up a grape, preparing to feed it to him.
But James, pushing his luck, reclined his head onto her lap, looking up with his mouth open, clearly expecting to be pampered.
"Don't do that; Timmy might come out and see us," Amanda admonished gently.
Despite her words, she placed the grape in his mouth.
"It's fine. Let her get used to seeing her parents being affectionate," James said, chewing the grape, savoring its sweet and tangy taste before swallowing it skin and all.
He opened his mouth again, signaling for more.
Amanda extended a cupped hand toward him, as if expecting something in return.
Not catching on, James let out another "Ahhâ".
Amanda cast him a playful glance, chuckled softly, peeled a grape, and gently placed it in his mouth.
Without its skin, the grape tasted much sweeter, filling his mouth with sugary bliss.
James couldn't help but close his eyes in contentment.
These carefree moments passed quickly, and before he knew it, it was noon.
After enjoying a lunch prepared by Amanda, James planned for a nice nap.
But Amanda's reminder about the eight-million-dollar property awaiting his signature brought him back to reality.
After showing his gratitude to Amanda with a kiss, James climbed into the Rolls-Royce and headed to the real estate office.
Jay Johnson drove with a cautious demeanor, maintaining a slow and steady pace.
His eyes revealed his tension; he dreaded the thought of anyone jumping out to claim insurance money by staging an accident.
James rested in the spacious back seat.
The six-meter-long space allowed him to stretch out comfortably, with ample room for someone to crouch before him.
His seat equipped with a massage feature, James experimented briefly and quickly learned how to enjoy its comforts.
Basking in the luxury that wealth provided, he closed his eyes for a short nap.
By the time the car slowly rolled up to the real estate office, he was already asleep.
Jay Johnson parked the car and glanced back at his boss, who was clearly in deep sleep, indicated by soft snores.
Would waking the boss induce his famous morning grumpiness? Jay Johnson pondered.
With just a few minutes until the one o'clock appointment, he hesitated to disturb James's rest.
At the office door, Artair was scanning the area.
The landlord had already arrived and was comfortably sipping tea in Hertha's office.
Assigned to greet his godfather, Artair was anxious, as he still hadn't seen the familiar sight of James's modest domestic car.
Instead, an impressively intimidating Rolls-Royce had parked in the spot reserved specifically for his godfather.
The parking at the office was limited, generally reserved, but faced with such a high-value vehicle, he dared not ask it to be moved.
He might try persuading the owner of a car worth hundreds of thousands, but this was clearly in another league altogetherâbest not to get involved.
As the appointment time arrived, Artair considered calling his godfather when an impeccably dressed young man with gold-rimmed glasses, carrying an air of arrogance, stepped out of the office.
"Miss Hertha, didn't we agree on one o'clock? Look at the time now. My time is very valuable," he said impatiently, his voice loud and domineering.
Hertha hurried after him, offering apologies, "I'm sorry, Manager Jenkins. Mr. King might have been delayed; let me call to check."
This man was the seller today.
His irritation seemed unexplained to Artair, who quickly turned to help soothe the man alongside his supervisor.
"Manager Jenkins, I'm already making the call. Please don't worry," Artair reassured him.
Cody Jenkins frowned, his tone severe, "How are you handling your affairs? His mistake is wasting my precious time!"
Hertha continued soothingly, "Manager Jenkins, please calm down. The time has just arrived, and he might be stuck in traffic. He should be here shortly."
"What good is it if he comes now? Time waits for no one. A missed appointment is still a missed appointment..." Cody Jenkins declared, ready to head to his car.
Seeing this, Artair rushed to stop him, saying, "Manager Jenkins, please give me a minute to check the situation."
Cody Jenkins shrugged off Artair's hand and continued loudly, "There are two kinds of people I despise: those who are late, and those who put on airs before me. So what if he paid a million-dollar deposit...?"
Meanwhile, inside the nearby Rolls-Royce, James was awakened by his ringing phone. Seeing it was 1:02, he reflexively blamed Jay Johnson.
"Bro Jay, didn't I tell you to wake me at one?"
Jay Johnson felt incredibly wronged. Had James really said that, he wouldn't have hesitated for so long.
"I'm sorry," the driver said, sounding aggrieved.
"Never mind, just be careful next time."
James stepped out of the car and noticed the commotion near the entranceâpeople engaging in a bit of a dispute. He laughed and called out cheerfully, "Artair, Miss Lu, sorry I'm late."
The group fell silent instantly, stunned to see the man stepping out of the Rolls-Royce.
No one immediately responded.
Artair was momentarily dumbfounded. He hadn't dared look at the car closely earlier, so he hadn't recognized Jay Johnson.
Seeing it now as his godfather's car shocked him profoundly.
Who would have thought? Yesterday, his godfather drove a domestic SUV, and today, he arrived in a Rolls-Royce.
That leap in grandeur was astounding.
After a brief three-second pause to process what he saw, Artair tried to step forward to greet James, but someone beat him to it.
"Mr. King! Mr. King! Such an honor, my apologies!"
Cody Jenkins quickly approached, energetically extending his hand, his face filled with flattering admiration.
"I'm the seller of the villa, Cody Jenkins. You seem older than I am, so feel free to call me Cody," he gushed.
"Hello, hello, sorry for being a bit late. It's all my driver's faultâhe forgot to wake me," James replied with a smile, shaking his hand.
"You're not late at all! Our clocks must be off. You arrived precisely on time, Mr. King," Cody Jenkins flattered excessively.
His deference stemmed from recognizing the Rolls-Royceâa brand-new, extended Phantom priced at 18 million.
In New York City, you could count on one hand those who could afford such a car; they were all exceedingly wealthy and influential individuals.
Though his own father possessed an older model, anyone at the same level deserved flattery.
Hertha's eyes shone upon seeing James's vehicle, and she rushed over, grasping his hand coquettishly, "Ah, finally! We've been waiting eagerly to see Mr. King."
Without letting go, she smoothly looped her arm through his, inviting him warmly, "Come inside and sit. I'll make you some tea."
Feeling the overwhelming enthusiasm, James exchanged pleasantries with a smile, allowing himself to be ushered into the office by the two.
Artair stood there, his planned greeting of "godfather" stuck in his throat, leaving his face flushed with suppressed embarrassment.