The night was dark and heavy, with neon lights outside resembling stars embedded in the horizon, streaming their flickering light freely into the study. Inside the spacious room, only a single warm table lamp was lit, casting a soft glow over two men seated across a mahogany desk.
The older man, settled in the executive chair behind the desk, gently rubbed the rim of a coffee cup, his sharp eyes focused on Marco, his voice steady. "Mariana might be young and impressionable, easily swayed by the smooth talk of the men outside. But as her older brother, you must stay level-headed and fulfill your responsibilities. You can’t let these incidents happen again."
Just two days ago, Mariana had caused quite a scandal in their social circle by injuring a suitor over some male model. Their father, Henry Griffin, had been vacationing in the Caribbean with his girlfriend but rushed home as soon as he got the news.
Marco lowered his gaze, appearing to listen intently, his long, strong fingers absently spinning a lighter. After a moment of thought, he chuckled softly. "Father, you’re right, Mariana did go too far this time. Fortunately, the Griffin family stands behind her—it’s just a concussion after all, and just a wedding on the line. As her half-brother, it's tough for me to be too critical; young girls can be so sensitive."
Henry Griffin rose from his chair and slowly approached Marco. He patted Marco’s shoulder lightly, portraying a concerned and thoughtful father. "Marco, are you still holding onto grudges from the past? I know you were wronged, and I’ve tried to make amends over the years. Sometimes, it’s best to move on."
His words seemed caring, yet carried a subtle warning. Marco tilted his head, his warm eyes meeting his father’s gaze, brows furrowing slightly in genuine confusion. "The past? Which incident would that be, Father?"
Each injustice was etched in Marco's heart, but there was no one to speak on his behalf. A breeze had started up outside, causing the newly budded magnolia tree to sway, as if performing an eccentric dance.
Henry found himself momentarily at a loss for words, pondering how to respond when Marco’s eyes crinkled with a playful smile. "You’re overthinking it, Father. Mariana is my sister, and I care deeply for her."
Henry exhaled slowly, smiling. "Among the three of you, you’ve always been the most obedient and least troublesome. It’s comforting to hear you say that. By the way, there’s a charity event at the Elysian Senior Center soon. I’d like you to represent the family. These events are great for your public image."
Marco glanced down, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Alright."
Satisfied with Marco’s agreement, Henry Griffin left, leaving Marco alone in the dimly lit room, his eyes fixed on the lighter in his hands.
Boone entered the room. "Sir, are you really going to the charity event next Sunday? It’s like taking the blame for someone else."
A cold voice replied, "Why would it be for someone else? He's my brother. By the way, how did Father explain it to the public back then?"
Boone answered, "He said his son was naive but well-meaning, having just signed a donation project with the senior center. But sir, you weren’t the one who lost two hundred million at a Las Vegas casino. The media merely said it was the Griffin family's heir without specifying who. Given that your mother was Father’s legitimate wife, people assume it’s you."
Marco nodded. "Then, tonight, let’s make sure the pictures are clear and the story is well-written."
Boone paused, his phone ringing at that moment. He answered, and whatever he heard lit up his usually impassive face with delight. Hanging up, he grinned at Marco. "Sir, our sources say your brother lost quite a bit at the casino in Monaco tonight."
"Fantastic."
Boone, still excited, said, "Looks like the press in Monaco will be pulling an all-nighter."
Marco replied calmly, "Let’s make sure they’re well compensated for their efforts."
Boone gave Marco a thumbs-up. "Sir, that’s a smart play. Also, Mariana's incident with that suitor cuts off a potential ally for your brother. If the Kennedy family had supported them, it would’ve been difficult for us."
---
The Elysian Senior Center was nestled in the suburbs, surrounded by natural beauty with an open view. A few days earlier, Marco had ensured that the center’s head was informed: no ceremony, no photos, and no interviews for the donation event.
The head of the center had been so moved by these requests that his eyes turned red. When Marco arrived, the man warmly grasped Marco's hand. "There aren’t many like you who quietly do good, Mr. Griffin. Thank you, truly, on behalf of all 106 residents here."
Marco’s smile was gentle. "Director Collins, you’ve devoted much of your life to the elderly and charity. Compared to your efforts, my contributions are modest."
They exchanged pleasantries and entered the center. Boone was overseeing the unloading of donations from the truck. It was just eleven o’clock, the perfect time for the seniors to be active, and Marco watched from the end of the corridor as they gathered around a woman.
The woman had her back to Marco, and though he couldn’t hear her words, the joy on the faces of each resident was clear.
Director Collins smiled. "Oh, that's a volunteer who often comes by to help. A while back, some residents struggled with insomnia, so today she brought calming herbal tea and incense. She's very caring."
Just then, Boone approached. "Director, we've unloaded everything." Director Collins nodded. "I’ll go check the inventory. Mr. Griffin, please feel free to explore. We can have lunch together afterward." With that, Director Collins hurried off.
Marco withdrew his gaze, looking down the corridor again to where, among those sincere smiles, the woman turned, and he recognized a familiar face.
Her lips lifted slightly, her smile as warming as a gentle breeze.
Boone’s voice was tinged with surprise. "Isn't that the woman from the other night…"
"Gwendolyn Morris." Marco’s voice was calm but cool.
Boone snapped his fingers. "Right, that's her, Miss Morris. What's she doing here?"
