Chapter 2 Andreas' Generosity

The luxurious black car rolled through the gates of the exclusive Serenity Estates and eased to a stop before an opulent mansion spanning nearly a thousand square meters. In the manicured garden, a man in a perfectly cut black suit stood with his hands in his pockets, back to Aimee, quietly taking in the blaze of red maple leaves around him. "Mr. Reid, Miss Bennett is here," the driver said in a low, respectful voice. Andreas turned at an unhurried pace. Sunlight spilled across his broad shoulders, edging his silhouette with a soft gold glow. At last, Aimee got a clear look at the man who dominated the business world like a storm - early thirties, a chiseled jawline, and piercing hawk-like eyes that radiated quiet command. His mere presence carried the weight of authority, as if power itself bent toward him. "Aimee Bennett." His voice rolled through the room, low and velvety, as if plucked from the strings of a cello. "You're not quite what I pictured." In Andreas' mind, the woman who had managed to predict three major stock market crashes from behind bars - earning him billions - had been someone he expected to look formidable. Instead, she appeared heartbreakingly delicate, her frame slender to the point of fragility, her skin pale as bleached parchment. Yet her eyes burned with a piercing brightness that shattered every preconception. "And what did you think I'd be like, Mr. Reid?" Aimee lifted her chin, her gaze steady and unflinching. A slow, unexpected smile curved across Andreas' lips. Those eyes - he'd seen them a hundred times before, glowing from the cold screen of video conferences. No matter how bleak things became, the spark in those eyes never faltered. "What do you think of this place?" he asked smoothly, steering the conversation away as he motioned toward the opulent house behind him. Aimee's gaze swept across the elegant facade. "Serenity Estates is the most exclusive neighborhood in the city. The garden was designed by a famous landscape artist, and the interior-" "You like it?" Andreas cut in with a quiet smile. "Then it's yours. Consider it my first gift to seal our partnership." Even with a second chance at life, Aimee hadn't expected a gesture this extravagant. A single mansion in Serenity Estates carried a market value of no less than three hundred million. "Mr. Reid, that's quite the offer," she said after a steadying breath, the corners of her lips tightening. "Aren't you even the slightest bit afraid I'll cash out and vanish without a trace?" Andreas closed the gap between them with unhurried, deliberate steps, the warm scent of his cologne threading through the air. "The fortune you earned for me from behind bars could buy ten of these," he said, voice low and husky as his eyes swept over her. A small, knowing pause followed. "And besides... our endgame is the same." She didn't need him to spell it out. Both of them had their sights set on the Bennett Group's downfall. In her previous life, long after she'd taken her final breath, Andreas had plunged into a ruthless corporate war with the Bennett Group - a clash that bled both empires dry. "To our alliance," she said softly, lifting her hand with composed grace. His fingers wrapped around hers, the contrast of his warmth against her cool skin sparking a brief, silent current between them. "Your room's upstairs, second floor," Andreas murmured, his voice low and unhurried. "The walk-in closet's stocked. Take a moment to breathe." Far across the city, the Bennett family mansion simmered with fury, the air thick with the sound of raised voices and hurried footsteps. "What?" The voice of Henrik Bennett, Aimee's father, thundered through the living room as he slammed his palm against the armrest, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "She refused to come home and actually got into someone else's car? Does she even give a damn about this family anymore?" Sonya Bennett, Aimee's mother, pressed a trembling tissue to the corners of her reddened eyes. "She must still be holding a grudge... because we let her take Rylie's blame," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But Rylie's been sheltered her whole life. She wouldn't have survived a single day in prison..." "Mom, don't cry." Rylie stepped out of the kitchen, a tray of warm cookies balanced carefully in her hands. Her lashes were damp, her eyes red. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't messed up back then, Aimee wouldn't have suffered. I'll bring her home myself." "Don't be absurd!" Jackson Bennett - Henrik and Sonya's oldest son - stepped in to block her. "You're in no condition to be running around like this. What's the deal with that car, Laurence?" Laurence's brows pinched together, a shadow darkening his face. "The license plate looked... familiar," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he tried to recall. A sudden spark of recognition flickered in his eyes. "Wait. I've seen it before. That's Andreas Reid's car. I spotted it at the financial summit last month." "Andreas?" Jackson's voice cracked, his expression draining to a chalky white. "Why would Aimee have any connection to someone from the Reid Group?" A dense silence closed in around the living room. No one dared to breathe too loudly. The feud between the Reid and Bennett groups had been a cold war for years, and if Aimee truly had ties to their sworn enemy... "No way." Rylie's saccharine tone cut through the silence. "Aimee grew up in some forgotten village and then rotted in prison for three years. How could someone like her possibly cross paths with anyone from the Reid family? It's clearly just a coincidence." Tilting her head slightly, she dipped her chin to mask the venom flashing in her eyes. In her mind, Aimee would always be too lowly to brush shoulders with Andreas - it had to be some absurd coincidence. Soon, Rylie calmed down. After all, she still held more than enough tricks up her sleeve to shove Aimee right back behind those iron bars. And this time, Aimee wouldn't see daylight again.