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After another exhausting ordeal, Henry finally managed to bring Katy back home—legally, properly, and safely—to Old Gary's apartment building. Taking this beast abroad once had been more tiring than anything else he'd done. And on top of that, Charlize Theron's situation still weighed heavily on his mind.
Just as Henry was considering where to start gathering information, the flamboyant landlord came knocking.
Standing outside the door, Old Gary cautiously peeked inside. Katy had her head lowered, busy devouring raw meat in her food bowl—freshly delivered by the butcher.
Even though no one was home most of the time, Henry had asked Gary to help receive the deliveries and store the meat in the freezer.
By now, Henry had switched to monthly billing with the butcher, no longer paying the delivery boy daily.
As for frozen meat… well, for Katy, it was like eating popsicles. Once in a while, she enjoyed crunching on it with loud, satisfying cracks.
But doing that every day? Not a good idea. She'd start giving attitude—ignoring the frozen meat and staring straight at people instead. A rather intimidating sight.
At the moment, though, Katy was focused on eating. Hearing the door open, she merely lifted her head and glanced at the newcomer.
Gary didn't forget his manners. "Hello, Katy."
Katy licked the icy residue from her mouth and went straight back to her meal.
Only after confirming he wasn't being targeted did Gary let out a sigh of relief. He then took out a scented envelope and handed it over. "Henry, someone asked me to give this to you today. I think it's an important invitation."
The envelope bore only the name "Henry Brown." There was no wax seal like European nobility used. Henry simply peeled it open.
Inside was an invitation card made of high-quality patterned paper. It contained only an address and a signature—James Arden. Nothing else.
The border of the card wasn't decorated with common symmetrical patterns like laurel leaves. Instead, it featured intricate lily-of-the-valley flowers, stems, and leaves.
And in America, lily of the valley was also known as the Mayflower…
That group?
The address, unsurprisingly, was in Montecito, north of Los Angeles—not part of L.A. County, but a true enclave of the ultra-wealthy.
The last time Henry had gone there, he'd been tricked by two FBI agents into witnessing a Black state senator effectively orchestrate his own demise.
What kind of trouble awaited him this time?
There was no time specified on the invitation. Did that mean he could go whenever he wanted?
"Who delivered this?" Henry asked, flipping the card over so Gary could see it as well.
"I don't know him," Gary replied, shaking his head. "Well-dressed young man. Said it was for you. I even told him I didn't know when you'd be back. He insisted you'd return today. And… well, here you are."
Only after answering did Gary put on his reading glasses to examine the card.
"Do you know this James Arden?"
"No idea," Henry said honestly. "First time I've heard the name."
Gary nodded. "Whoever uses invitations like this… definitely not ordinary."
Then he suddenly remembered something. "By the way, where's Charlize? Didn't you two go on the trip together? She didn't come back with you?"
"She ran into some trouble. I had her fly to London or Paris for now while I sort things out here."
Gary frowned with concern. "Nothing serious, right? She's a sweet girl."
"It's fine. Her visa got canceled, that's all. She still has work lined up—I'll reapply for her. Just takes some time."
"Alright then. You just got back—I won't disturb you." Gary turned to leave.
"Sure. When Charlize gets back in a few days, I'll cook something nice. Come join us."
Henry was once again using food as bait to win over his flamboyant landlord.
Gary immediately perked up. "I want that—what's it called—the soy-braised pork tied with string."
"Dongpo pork, right?"
"Yes, yes, that one!"
Henry patted his own stomach mischievously and glanced at Gary's. "With your figure, aren't you worried about fat?"
"A life without fat is incomplete. Those people obsessed with turning themselves into Arnold Schwarzenegger will never understand the joy."
"Haha, I'll prepare it."
"Don't keep me waiting too long."
"Deal."
Before Gary could leave, hurried footsteps approached. J.J. Harris, ever the dedicated agent, stormed in and demanded, "What happened to Charlize?!"
"She already contacted you, huh." Henry stepped aside to let her in, while smoothly ushering the curious Gary away.
J.J. Harris, clearly furious, had forgotten there was a tiger in the house. She jumped slightly upon entering, then quickly chose a seat far from Katy.
"Explain. What happened? She didn't make it clear over the phone."
Henry handed her the invitation first. "Her P-3 visa was revoked. We'll need to reapply. As for who did it… I think you can guess. Most likely this person."
"James Arden? Who's that?" J.J. Harris read the card.
"No idea. First time I've heard of him."
She brought the card closer, sniffing the faint fragrance—but it gave her no additional clues. However, when she noticed the lily-of-the-valley pattern, a troubling thought surfaced.
"…It can't be them, can it?"
"Who do you think?"
"The people who signed the Mayflower Compact—the true blue-blood aristocrats of America."
"They actually still exist? I thought they'd all died out," Henry said with mock surprise.
J.J. Harris replied, "In reality, they're like European nobility—maternal and paternal bloodlines all mixed together. Only they themselves keep track of it. Outsiders can't make sense of it.
"But why would they get involved here? They don't meddle in Hollywood. This place is too low-level for them. Has Charlize ever met this Arden? Is he after her?"
Henry shook his head. "If he wanted her, he wouldn't cancel her visa and keep her out of the country. This is probably about me—and she got dragged into it."
J.J. Harris didn't like that answer, but she couldn't deny it. No one else would take on the trouble surrounding Charlize except Henry Brown. So she had no choice but to rely on him.
Henry didn't dodge responsibility. "I'll go meet this Arden tonight and see what he wants. In the meantime, help Charlize coordinate her work."
"I know." J.J. Harris stood to leave, but paused and turned back. "Can you actually fix this?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's a difference between quietly resolving things before deadlines—and being upfront with partners that schedules might change. I need to know which approach to take."
"Be upfront. Put the blame on me—come up with whatever excuse you like. Visa issues have to go through official channels. I can't guarantee she'll be back in Los Angeles tomorrow."
"…Alright. Got it."
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