Quinn was about to say something when her phone suddenly buzzed.
"Hello? Oh, Cousin… yeah, I can sympathize, but with your situation… the older generation can be like that. Don't take it too hard," Quinn said sympathetically into the phone. After a moment, she ended the call.
"President, who was that?" a boy with a mischievous grin sidled up and asked.
"My cousin," Quinn replied, twisting open a bottle of iced tea and taking a long drink.
"Oh, your cousin—was she the beautiful woman in the white Ford who came looking for you last time? The one with the elegant air?"
"Mhm," Quinn answered with a nod.
"What was that about?" the boy probed, clearly curious.
Quinn shot him a sideways glance, as if to say, "Why are you prying like a gossipy woman?" But still, she indulged him, saying, "Nothing much. My cousin's not exactly young anymore, and the family's been pressuring her to settle down. Well, my aunt and uncle started nagging her again today, so she called me to vent. I could only offer some comforting words."
"Heh, really? Then look at me—introduce me to your cousin!" the boy suggested.
"Sorry, but you?" Quinn scoffed. "My cousin's standards are pretty high. With your looks—and your dad's just a mid-level manager at some company—there's no way she'd even look at you."
"Well, if your cousin keeps it up, she'll only end up going after someone like Grayson," the boy added sarcastically.
"Shut up—want to get yourself killed?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, and the boy skidded away in a panic. Poor Grayson—he could never catch a break.
"My cousin would never dream of someone like that," Quinn said, shaking her head and stretching. "I'm bored. Lauren, let's go find something to do."
Before Lauren could answer, a sleek black Audi Q7 came rounding the corner and pulled up outside the tennis court gate. A young man stepped out, dressed in a striped button-down, pink slacks, and sunglasses—a look that practically screamed "attention, please."
"Brandon! You got a car?" Quinn exclaimed, racing over to meet him.
The other tennis-club members clustered around as well.
"Brandon's our tennis club's top rich kid—of course he's driving. An Audi, no less—so boss," one girl gushed.
"That thing's worth, what, fifty or sixty grand?" another chimed in with envy.
"Nah, this is a base model—around thirty thousand. I just got my license, so I picked it up to practice. I'll sell it in a couple of years," Brandon said proudly.
As always, his display of wealth drew a chorus of "ooh"s and "aah"s.
"Who is he?" Lauren asked, since she and Grayson had stayed back, watching.
"That's Brandon Carter, vice president of the tennis club. His family's loaded," Grayson explained.
Sure enough, anyone who could afford an Audi Q7 as a student was no average rich kid.
"I've been looking for something to do—Brandon, take us for a spin!" Quinn batted her eyelash at him.
"Sure thing," he replied, able to do little else. He'd come today specifically to impress Quinn. He'd coveted her for ages, but knew his flashy displays alone wouldn't win her. That was why he'd joined the tennis club—to get close gradually. He'd clawed his way up to vice president of the club, hoping to catch her eye. Still, nothing had sparked between them—yet. So today he'd gone all-out, getting this Audi to show he could back up his position. He intended to finally win Quinn's favor.
"Lauren, come on—let's go for a ride!" Quinn called, practically bouncing with excitement as she pulled Lauren toward the car.
"What about us? Where do we go, President? Let's have a group outing!" Matthew said hopefully.
In truth, many in the tennis club adored Quinn, though they knew they could never compete with Brandon's wealth. Even if they couldn't win her heart, being part of her circle at least gave them something to talk about. And with Quinn bringing along a pretty girl like Lauren today, it was all the more entertaining.
"All right, once you guys get back from your spin, let's head to that Michelin bistro for dinner—split the bill evenly. But let's make it so the girls don't have to pay, okay?" Quinn announced.
"Sounds perfect!" Matthew cheered.
The others echoed, "Yeah!" Though they weren't as loaded as Brandon, a Michelin dinner was still a treat they were happy to enjoy.
"Don't forget Grayson," Lauren said, casting a glance back at him. He looked alone and somewhat forlorn.
"As if!" Quinn scoffed, shaking her head. "Grayson never comes to our outings."
"Yeah, the guy's in Management School. I once saw him working as a waiter—he's broke. Why invite him? He'd just bring down the vibe."
"Seriously, if we didn't need a ball boy, we'd have kicked him off the club already."
Even Quinn looked down on Grayson, and the others were worse. They all followed Quinn's lead.
Lauren hesitated. She wasn't part of the tennis club; she felt awkward arguing with Quinn's clique.
"Grayson, clean up the court—sweep the lines, put away the balls, and stash everything in our storage closet. Got it?" Quinn called over her shoulder as she hopped into Brandon's car.
Grayson sighed, but obeyed. Just as he finished tidying the court, his phone pinged with a message.
"Young Master Grayson, the matter has been handled." It was Grandpa Jenkins.
Grayson nodded with satisfaction. His family's efficiency had come through—only about an hour had passed, and everything was resolved.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, his phone rang again. It was Jace.
"Grayson, come quickly! Lila is treating everyone!" Jace's voice sounded jubilant, nothing like this morning's somber tone.
"Grayson, head to The Ivory Room!" Jace urged. "We're waiting—hurry!"
Tyler and Miles also sent him texts:
"Why throw a feast?" Grayson wondered to himself. He understood what had happened, even if he pretended not to. He didn't want Lila to know it was his doing—he had no desire for further entanglements with her. After all, if he hadn't shown up at that Nineteen Bar party, none of this mess would've started. He was merely fixing what he could.
But Jace pressed on. "Lila's problem is solved—perfectly solved. Sterling Gate Group not only apologized and covered all the losses, but they even sent representatives to their company to smooth things over. Wow, Lila's family really has connections."
Jace's excitement was infectious. "Lila's in a great mood now, so she's treating everyone at The Ivory Room—you've got to come! Come on!"
"I'm not going," Grayson said flatly.
"Why not? Come on—let's all hang out. Besides, Miles, Tyler, and I are there. You'll just join your brothers for a drink," Jace cajoled.
Miles and Tyler chimed in too.
"Fine. I'll come," Grayson finally relented. In the end, it was his doing that set all this right. A single meal at Lila's expense was a small price.
On the third floor of The Ivory Room, Grayson arrived to find several faces already seated at a long table. Jace and his three dormmates, Indie along with her three roommates—four girls in total—occupied one side. A few other boys and girls Grayson didn't know sat scattered around. They must be Lila's friends.
Lila herself was in high spirits.
"Order whatever you want!" she announced, waving her menu like a scepter. Radiant and confident, she looked nothing like the tearful, frightened girl Grayson had seen that morning. Now, her cheeks were flushed pink, her smile dazzling. The sadness from earlier was completely erased.
"Oh, look who decided to show up—sneaking in for free food again?" Lila greeted him with a mocking sneer.
Indie hurriedly tugged on Lila's arm. "Alright, Lila. It's fine—she's here now. We're all celebrating, let's just enjoy ourselves."
Lila waved her off, refusing to even look at him. "Fine, eat away."
"Lila, who's that?" one of Lila's friends—someone Grayson didn't recognize—asked softly as Lila turned away.
Lila leaned in, covering her mouth with one hand as she whispered to them. Grayson could only guess: she was surely reminding them about how he had taken her food at Dicos that time. The friends' eyes widened, clearly surprised by her revelation.
Grayson quietly shook his head. Honestly, he'd come mostly so Jace and Indie wouldn't feel awkward. If he'd stayed away, his two friends would've felt guilty on his behalf.
Slowly, waiters brought out dish after dish to the table. The group chatted and laughed, their conversation ranging from campus gossip to trending online topics—young people sharing the same age always find plenty to talk about.
"By the way, Lila," Avery leaned in, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, "who handled the Sterling Gate deal? That was incredible! Victor Langston himself came to your place to apologize, and they covered every loss and stayed to smooth things over. Your family connections must be deep!"
That comment piqued everyone's interest.
"Seriously, Lila—who's your secret benefactor?"
"Yeah—Lila, you're not just some rich kid; you're power-rich. Tell us who made that happen."
Sterling Gate Group was legendary in Oregon, and everyone knew how impossible it was to go up against them. SilverStream should have been ruined, yet somehow the situation had turned around miraculously.
"I'm not entirely sure myself. Hang on—I'll call my dad," Lila said, pride and satisfaction in her voice. She was clearly reveling in the attention. After all, for a small company to stand up to Sterling Gate and have them back down—that was a major victory.
"Dad, I have to ask—who helped our family?" Lila said into the phone.
"Lila, honestly, I don't know," her father, Charles Bennet, replied. The exhaustion in his voice was obvious. After Victor Langston's threat, Bennet had felt completely cornered. Running a small business and fighting a corporate giant like Sterling Gate was suicidal. He'd even considered capitulating entirely. He'd begged every possible contact for help—willing to pay, apologize, beg, anything to resolve the situation.
But as soon as people realized he was tangling with Victor Langston, everyone he approached shook their heads. No one wanted to risk angering Sterling Gate. A few close friends had tried to lobby for him, but all failed. Just when Bennet had been at his lowest point, out of the blue, Sterling Gate's head had shown up in person to apologize. Who could his secret savior be?
Lila listened intently to her father's confusion. "You don't know either?"
"No. But I asked around, and someone said they saw Mr. Prescott, the head of the tax bureau, visit Sterling Gate's offices this morning," Bennet said.
Grayson's eyebrows lifted slightly at that. The pieces fit together: Daniel Prescott was under orders from Sebastian Caldwell, acting on Grayson's warning. Now it all made sense how Lila's family had been saved so decisively.