Chapter 147
Chapter 147:
Dario’s eyes narrowed skeptically before he suddenly burst into mocking laughter.
“What are you laughing at?” Rylan asked, his face tightening.
Still laughing, Dario locked eyes with Rylan, his voice thick with scorn. “Your overconfidence amuses me, Mr. Wilson. Did you think a small sum would compel my loyalty? You greatly underestimate me p>
“You—!” Rylan, flushed with embarrassment, could only sputter as Dario turned and left with a dismissive flick of his hand.
Finding a secluded area, Dario quickly made a phone call.
“Helena has issues with physical contact,” he said. “The Wilson family treats her terribly. They haven’t even acknowledged her relationship with them in public. Rylan just made a pathetic attempt to bribe me into spying on her. And Alden…” He scoffed, disdain clear in his voice. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t conceal his restored hearing p>
Helena, having hoped to find Dario and leave the gala with him, searched the crowd in vain.
With no other option, she texted him and left alone.
“Got kicked out too, huh?” a mocking voice greeted Helena as she exited the banquet hall.
It was Betsey, still lingering around.
Helena didn’t bother replying and walked to the curb to find a taxi. Betsey hurried to catch up, attempting to throw more insults her way, but the loud honking of a car drowned her out.
Helena’s expression lit up with joy when she noticed a familiar car amid the noise. Ignoring Betsey completely, she got into the car without a second glance.
“You—!” Betsey’s words caught in her throat, her frustration evident as she stamped her foot.
It wasn’t until the car pulled away that she realized the driver resembled Alden’s assistant, Xavier. She wondered why a car that looked so modest would be connected to Alden’s staff.
And why exactly would Alden send someone to pick up Helena? Betsey was perplexed, doubting her own eyes.
Inside the car, excitement still colored Helena’s cheeks.
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“You arrived so quickly,” she said, gazing at Alden. “Have you been waiting outside this entire time p>
Alden offered a smile instead of an answer. He leaned forward and gently took hold of her foot.
Taken aback, Helena instinctively drew back, but Alden held on gently. He smoothly removed her high heels and replaced them with comfortable flats.
Warmth surged through Helena, her cheeks flushing further.
She murmured a soft, “Thank you,” only for her stomach to growl loudly at that moment.
Despite the abundance of food at the gala, she hadn’t managed to eat much, and now hunger pangs struck.
Flustered, Helena clasped her stomach, her face turning a deeper red.
Alden’s smile widened slightly.
He turned to Xavier and calmly instructed, “Let’s head to Wildewell Road p>
Xavier acknowledged, and soon they stopped at a bustling open-air stall on Wildewell Road.
Helena stepped out of the car alongside Alden. As they approached the street stall, her surprise was evident.
Was Alden short on money?
They were actually about to dine at a street vendor’s setup!
But her concern lasted only a moment before Marcus approached them with a wide grin. “Ah, it’s you two. Please, take a seat. What would you like to eat p>
Helena was momentarily taken aback.
Marcus, known as the head chef at the prestigious Sehao Maison, could command a hundred thousand dollars for a private meal. What was he doing at a modest street stall?
Alden appeared completely comfortable, ordering several dishes as if he were a regular—each one a favorite of Helena’s.
Marcus instructed his team to start cooking and then joined them for a conversation.
There was something oddly familiar about him to Helena.
During their discussion, it became clear that Marcus didn’t operate the stall for profit but opened it occasionally to stay connected with his roots and old friends.
The food, prepared as per Alden’s order, arrived swiftly and was, unsurprisingly, exceptional.
Helena relished the meal, all the while enjoying Marcus’s stories from the past.
As Marcus reminisced, he said, “My restaurant used to be beside an orphanage. Often, the first meal shared between adoptive parents and their children was at my restaurant p>
The words “orphanage” and “adoptive” resonated with Helena, triggering a cascade of fragmented memories.
Was it possible that she had originated from an orphanage?