Barlor's expression remained composed, but Linda could tell he already suspected the land's true potential. He had likely figured out its future value but chose to let Frederick have it as a gesture of goodwill. That was just like Barlor—always strategic, even in his generosity.
Linda shrugged off the conversation. "I just gave him a compliment. You're overthinking it," she said, dismissing the topic with a casual tone. Barlor's brow furrowed as he considered her words. He realized he was probably reading too much into it; how could Linda possibly have the foresight to predict the land's value? He decided to drop it.
"You're probably right," he murmured, then turned his attention back to Viole, leading her away to mingle with other guests. As they walked off, Viole briefly glanced back at Linda, her expression carefully neutral, but Linda caught the hint of a smug smile hidden in her eyes.
Linda finished her glass of champagne, the bubbles doing little to lift her spirits. To the outside world, she must have looked like the embodiment of a tragic figure—abandoned by her husband for another woman, left to fend for herself in a room full of strangers. But Linda wasn't here to wallow in self-pity. She had come with a plan: to connect with the business elite. However, without Barlor by her side, approaching them seemed daunting.
She scanned the room, searching for an opportunity, when her eyes landed on a grand piano in the corner. A thought struck her, and a smile crept onto her face. That was it—the perfect way to draw attention.
Linda walked over to the piano, gracefully acknowledging the pianist before taking a seat. The skills she had honed as the daughter of the Autumn family, skills she had neglected in her past life, would now serve her well. She hadn't played in years, but her fingers found their way across the keys, producing a melody that captured the room's attention.
As the music filled the hall, the guests turned to see who was playing. When Linda finished the piece, applause erupted. She had achieved exactly what she had intended.
Barlor, who had been deep in conversation with a businessman, paused to listen, his eyes fixed on Linda. Viole noticed his distraction and, in an attempt to downplay Linda's accomplishment, remarked, "Linda is quite talented, isn't she? I didn't know she played the piano."
"She passed the Grade 8 piano exam," Barlor replied, his tone indifferent. To the untrained ear, his comment might seem dismissive, but Linda knew better. In this crowd, such a level of proficiency was not uncommon, but the reaction from the audience indicated that Linda's playing had surpassed their expectations. It was a subtle reminder to Viole of the gap between them.
Viole's smile faltered as she realized that Linda was not just a pretty face with a wealthy background—she had substance and talent. The realization left Viole feeling foolish for ever underestimating her.
After the applause died down, seLindal wealthy women approached Linda, eager to converse with the woman who had just captivated the room. Linda knew that befriending these influential ladies would provide her with the connections she needed to reach the businessmen she had initially targeted.
As she engaged with the crowd, two men watched from the sidelines. Vardy leaned casually against the railing, a smirk playing on his lips. "Who would've thought Ms. Autumn had such talent?" he mused.
Fern, standing beside him, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It's impressive."
Vardy glanced at Fern, amused. "Since when did you, of all people, develop an appreciation for music?"
Fern shrugged. "I might not know much about music, but I know what I like."
For Fern, it wasn't about the music itself; it was the woman playing it that held his attention.
Later in the evening, Linda excused herself to visit the restroom. Just as she rounded a corner, a strong hand grabbed her and pulled her into a secluded alcove. Startled, she instinctively tried to call out, but the man's hand quickly covered her mouth.
"Stay still," he whispered, his voice low and familiar. Linda felt the warmth of his chest against her back and adjusted her breathing. Without a second thought, she bit down on the man's hand.
"Ouch!" he yelped, releasing her. "Did you just bite me?"
Linda spun around, ready to defend herself, only to see Fern rubbing his hand with a pained expression. "Fern? What on earth are you doing?"
Fern shrugged off her concern. "Sneaking in. I didn't want to be spotted."
Linda frowned. "Sneaking in? Are you serious? You of all people?"
Fern smirked. "What can I say? I like to keep a low profile."
Linda rolled her eyes. "Right. Mr. Lane's grandson needs to sneak around."
Fern's expression shifted slightly at her words, but he quickly masked it with a playful grin. "You caught me. But I'd rather not broadcast that fact."
Linda felt a pang of guilt as she recalled what she knew from her past life—that Fern would eventually inherit everything from Kurt Lane. But for now, that secret was still safe.
"Why are you really here, Fern?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Fern reached into his jacket and pulled out a document. "For this," he said, handing it to her. Linda's eyes widened when she saw it was the contract for her eight-billion-dollar loan.
"You're kidding me," she muttered. "You snuck in just to get this signed?"
Fern shrugged again. "It's important, isn't it?"
Linda couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "And you chose the women's restroom to do it?"
"I figured it was the last place anyone would look for me," Fern replied, grinning.
Linda shook her head, signing the contract and handing it back. "You're something else, Fern."
Before he could leave, Fern's expression turned serious. "Can I ask you something as your creditor?"
Linda arched an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
"Why did you spend ten billion dollars on that land? It doesn't add up."
Linda met his gaze evenly. "I have my reasons."
Fern leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. "What if I insist on knowing?"
Linda considered her response carefully. She wasn't ready to reveal her plans just yet. "What if I told you that land would be worth a fortune in six months? Would you believe me?"
Fern frowned, skeptical. "No."
Linda smiled. "Then you'll just have to wait and see."
Fern's frown deepened. "What are you not telling me?"
"You'll know soon enough," Linda replied cryptically before slipping past him into the restroom.
As Fern returned to the main hall, Vardy noticed the thoughtful look on his face. "Everything alright?" he asked.
Fern nodded but didn't elaborate. "Yeah. Just... thinking."
"About what?"
"Do you know if there are any upscale estates planned near that land Linda bought?"
Vardy shook his head. "Not that I've heard of. That area's a dump—sewage district, mostly. Why?"
Fern's brow furrowed in confusion. "Sewage district?"
Vardy shrugged. "Yeah. It's practically worthless."
Fern's unease grew. Linda wasn't someone who made rash decisions. If she had invested ten billion dollars, she must have known something he didn't. The question was—what?