True Tycoon Her Empire, Her Rules

The next day. Amber was discharged from the hospital, and Leonie had made special arrangements to pick her up with the help of Nadine and Hobson. 

Springer didn’t show up. He had no intention of picking her up, let alone replying to her 

messages. 

Not wanting to wait at home for Amber’s return, Springer wrapped himself around Winnie instead. “Can’t you take me with you when you head out? I’ll just tag along, promise not to be a 

bother!” 

“No way.” Winnie’s refusal was merciless. 

At her response, Springer nearly choked up. 

“Why? I have admitted you as my family!” 

“I don’t ask that.” 

Springer felt slighted but didn’t give up. “Come on, I’m practically a VIP customer. Isn’t it only right for you to take your VIP out for a spin?” 

After all, he had spent nearly seven hundred thousand dollars on her services. 

Considering her previous gig paid thirty thousand, it would take her ages to make seven hundred thousand. 

In his mind, Springer figured he must qualify as a VIP. 

Winnie just glanced at him, pulled out her phone silently, and showed him Malcolm’s transaction history. 

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Malcolm has transferred three million dollars to her account. 

She flipped to another, showing him the transfer from Clifford. 

Clifford has transferred ten million dollars to her account. 

At this moment, silence spoke volumes. 

Springer was at a loss for words. What in the world was all this? Did Winnie really rake in that much cash? 

“That’s not right, how can Clifford’s transfer count? It’s a father giving you money, that’s just an allowance!” 

Winnie flipped back to the earlier ten million transfer, explaining. “The earlier amount is pocket money, the ten million is a fee.” 

Springer felt a pang of jealousy. 

He had thought Winnie was dirt–poor without even five million to her name in pocket change. It 

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turned out that he was the clown! 

His dad had never transferred ten million in one go to him!! 

In the end, Springer declared that to mend his bruised heart, Winnie had to take him out with 

her today. 

Winnie hadn’t anticipated that having this young lad as her family would be such a handful. 

If only she had known… Oh well, there was no ils. 

Winnie still took Springer out with her. 

The driver pulled up in front of Catherine’s apartment building. 

When Springer stepped out and saw the dilapidated structure, his expression soured, 

“What are we doing at this rundown place? Is it set for demolition?” 

He thought this was some decrepit neighborhood awaiting tear–down, especially since it looked. even worse than the area where Winnie used to rent her place. 

Springer, pampered since childhood, had never set foot in a place this shabby. 

As they entered the building, he was even more astonished. 

“There’s no elevator in this building?! There are still buildings without elevators in Emerald Bay?” 

commanding. “Go back. Now.” 

Winnie shot him a look that said volumes, commanding. “Go back. Now.” 

Springer clamped his mouth shut, “I won’t say another word, okay?” 

By the time they climbed to the top floor and saw Catherine Lester’s small apartment, Springer had revised his understanding of poverty. Just as he was about to speak, he caught Winnie’s icy gaze and immediately shut up. 

The Lester family seldom had visitors, and in Georgina’s living room, the only place to sit was Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

the bed. 

But Springer’s upbringing wouldn’t allow him to just sit on others” bed, so he pulled up a plastic stool and sat down awkwardly with his long legs folded. 

Winnie noted that since entering the apartment, though surprised, he hadn’t shown disdain, and she gave him a second look. 

Maybe Springer was kind after all. 

Georgina, however, recognized at a glance that Springer was no ordinary visitor, what with his expensive attire making him stand out. 

She felt visibly uneasy and worried, 

“Master, did you come over especially today because there’s something wrong with Catherine?” 

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12:20 

“She’s fine physically, I just have something for her.” 

Winnie said, asking Springer to wait outside while she went into the room to speak with Catherine. 

Having been bedridden for over a year, Catherine was slowly recuperating and now lay in bed as Winnie pulled out a familiar candle from her backpack. 

As she watched the candle rise in Winnie’s palm, Catherine grew nervous, fearing it was related to her child, but then she heard a familiar voice coming from the candle, 

“Catherine, I’m sorry, I… I realize I was wrong…” 

Hearing it. Catherine flinched involuntarily and gripped the blanket tightly. 

Georgina initially couldn’t recognize the volce, but as she listened, her eyes reddened with 

anger, 

“Is… Is that the person who ruined Catherine’s life? She destroyed my daughter’s future, does she think a flippant apology is enough for our forgiveness?!” 

Catherine went pale, her lips colorless as she clenched her jaw, clearly unwilling to accept the apology. And knowing Kathryn, she didn’t believe the apology was sincere. 

At the sight of their reaction, Winnie explained Kathryn’s recent misunderstanding that Catherine’s ghost was haunting her for revenge. 

She added, “I had her record this not only because you deserve an apology, but also because with this recording, you can clear your name from the slander a year ago and let everyone know the truth.” 

As Winnie mentioned the internet, Catherine turned even paler, recalling the overwhelming insults and doubts hurled at her a year prior. 

She had just managed to escape the barrage of abuse… 

If she released Kathryn’s recording online, she might gain exoneration and forgiveness, but the events of a year ago would undoubtedly be dredged up again, and she might still face skepticism and humiliation… 

Georgina’s mind clearly traced back to the past, a shadow of worry crossing her face as she considered the possibility of history repeating itself. She feared that if Catherine were to fall apart again, something might seize the moment to snatch a piece of her soul in her moment of weakness. 

Georgina and Catherine both wore expressions of resistance. 

Winnie wasn’t surprised. After all, they had fought hard for the peace they now enjoyed. 

This was exactly why Winnie had left the choice in her hands. 

“You can choose to live a quiet life from now on, or you can use this to defend your honor. I’ll give you the recording just to offer you a second option.” 

Without the recording, Catherine would have to live with the whispers and shame, but the internet was forgetful, and she could still start anew. It was the only path she had. 

But the recording represented an alternative, one she could choose to ignore, but it was a choice that she deserved to have. 

Winnie wasn’t going to play the self–righteous hero and make that choice for Catherine. 

She wasn’t the one affected, and it wasn’t her place to decide. 

Handing the small and delicate candle to Catherine, Winnie didn’t press further. 

Catherine looked down at the candle in her palm, her lips still tightly pressed together, her whole being caught in a tangle of indecision. 

Outside. Springer couldn’t hear any of the conversation, and idly his gaze swept over the small ten–square–meter space, so tiny yet crammed with a myriad of items. 

He was silently marveling at the clutter when suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

Springer glanced instinctively toward the bedroom direction, noting the silence within, seemingly undisturbed by the sound. 

He thought about calling out but the knocking came again, more insistent this time. 

So, Springer decided to head to the door and flung it open with a touch of impatience. 

“Alright, alright, I heard you! Stop knocking!” 

As the door swung open, Springer was met with the sight of a young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with dark circles under his eyes and an aura of gloom enveloping him. His eyes were rimmed red, bearing an almost predatory look. 

Clenching his teeth, the young man asked each word deliberate and forceful, “Who Are You?” 

Springer, with the typical defiance of a privileged master, tilted his chin up and shot back, “And who might you be?” 

The young man fixed him with a piercing gaze, his voice hoarse and chilling as he uttered his name, “Hans.”