Chapter 13: Mr.Cole Had
Always Been Single
“Wow! Miss.Garcia, you must be confused! In the entire city, which else could be The Cole Manor? The Cole family on the Thunderfang Peak, the one whose ancestors were among the founding figures of the nation, always respected and revered! The Cole family had always been low–key and mysterious, and there had never been much media coverage about them. For them to come knocking on our door, inviting you to make clothes for Mrs.Cole—if this got out, who knows how many high–society families would follow suit and flock to our
brand!”
The marketing manager beside me exclaimed
excitedly, “Boss, we’re about to take off!”
“Wait a second!” I stood up, trying to maintain
my composure as I turned to Miss. Parker and asked, “Do we need to call the police? Is this really not a scam call?”
Miss.Parker rolled her eyes, nearly fainting. “I
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double–checked! They spoke very politely and had great manners, and they even said they could pay a deposit in advance.”
I was dumbfounded.
“Miss.Garcia, do you have time in the next few days? Next month is coming up soon, so if you’re free, you need to call them back quickly
to set a time.”
“I have! I must have!” Such an incredible
opportunity had landed in my lap, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away!
I grabbed the phone, my heart racing with
excitement as I entered the number. I stood
up and walked to the floor–to–ceiling window, trying to calm myself as I hit dial.
Sure enough, as Miss.Parker said, the person on the other end spoke very politely and was exceptionally well–mannered.
Once we set a time, I felt embarrassed to have them come pick me up and quickly stated, “Mr.Clark, I can drive over myself, so you don’t have to trouble yourself.”
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To my surprise, the other side remained polite, explaining, “Miss. Garcia, The Cole Manor is hidden; if it’s your first time, it might be hard to find. It’s safer for a driver to come pick you up.”
“Oh, I see. Alright then, see you tomorrow.”
After hanging up, I felt a pang of suspicion and opened my phone’s map app to input “Thunderfang Peak The Cole Manor,” only to
find that it didn’t exist.
My goodness, what kind of place was this that even blocked navigation?
“Miss Parker, this place feels like a black hole. What if I go there and never come back?” I gripped my phone, feeling a mix of unease and
disbelief.
Miss.Parker joked, “Don’t worry; worst case, you’ll end up as Mrs.Sebastian Cole! I heard Mr.Cole had always been single.”
The marketing manager added with a somber tone, “I heard Mr.Cole had a condition that kept him from being seen. What if it’s all a ploy to get
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Miss.Garcia to become the bride here?”
I was at a loss for how to respond to these two, rolling my eyes as I walked away.
Although there was definitely something “strange” about this situation, I still decided to take on this task.
High risk, high reward–I, an abandoned woman who had become the laughingstock of the city, had nothing to fear.
At worst, I had a worthless life.
The next morning, I arrived at the office and organized my work. At 8:30, I received a call from Mr.Clark.
“Miss.Garcia, besides Mrs. Cole, there are
several other women from the family who need clothes, so please bring an assistant with you,” Mr..Clark reminded me specifically.
This suggestion was right on point, so I immediately called Miss. Parker.
When we went downstairs and saw the
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luxurious car parked by the side of the road, Miss.Parker gasped in surprise, “What kind of car is this? It’s so impressive!”
I whispered, “It’s a Cadillac.” After pausing,
I added, “Don’t overreact; it’s like you’re an inexperienced country bumpkin in a grand
garden.”
Miss.Parker replied quietly, “When we get to The Cole Manor, it’ll definitely feel like that.”
I thought, she was probably right.
There were different levels within high society.
Regular wealthy families were separated from the ultra–wealthy by several tiers.
And the Cole family on the Thunderfang Peak- it was a presence that towered above even the
top–tier elite.
Just mentioning this Cadillac made it clear it held significant prestige.
As everyone knew, Cadillac was different from other luxury vehicles. While many luxury cars
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might cost millions, nearly anyone with money could buy them.
In contrast to luxury cars that the internet celebrities or nouveau riche could easily flaunt -like a Rolls–Royce that anyone could drive in style–Cadillac was different.
To own this car, one not only needed sufficient financial strength but also a clean background and a lofty social status, along with significant contributions to society. Moreover, this car was a private custom creation, meaning that every owner had their own unique “one–of–a–kind”
vehicle.
Miss.Parker and I got into the car, both feeling a bit uneasy. The driver, wearing white gloves, was quite friendly and chatted with us a bit, which helped us relax.
After a steady hour of driving in the luxurious vehicle, we entered a lush mountainous area.
The driver said, “We’re almost there; Thunderfang Peak is just ahead.”
Sure enough, we soon spotted a checkpoint,
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guarded by soldiers with rifles.
As our car approached, the soldiers gestured for us to stop. The driver parked and lowered the window to show his certificate before we were allowed to proceed.
Miss.Parker looked astonished, whispering, “Miss.Garcia, is this some sort of military zone?”
I was surprised too, but I didn’t let it show.
The driver politely explained, “This is a special authorization from the higher–ups; after the old Mr.Cole retired, he chose to live in Thunderfang Peak. For safety reasons, all vehicles entering and exiting have to be checked. As family members, we just need to show our certificate. If it were any unregistered external vehicles, the security checks would be much stricter.”
After hearing this, Miss. Parker and I exchanged glances, both feeling a deep sense of respect.
No wonder Mr..Clark didn’t let me drive myself. Besides the fact that this place didn’t show up on navigation, it was likely a security issue as well.
Chapter 13: Mr.Cole Had Always Be…
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I knew very little about the Cole family; my only close encounter had been with the suddenly
appearing Mr.Cole at the wedding.
Today’s experience made me gain a deeper understanding and greater awe of the Cole family’s mysterious and low–profile reputation.
Thinking of Mr..Cole, I remembered the handkerchief I had in my pocket.
When I learned I was coming to The Cole Manor
today, I had made sure to bring it with me—just
in case I ran into him and could return it.
As Cadillac pulled into The Cole Manor, we saw someone waiting by the side of the door.
The driver said, “That’s Mr.Clark; you can go in
with him.”
I thanked him politely and got out of the car with Miss.Parker.
Mr.Clark stepped forward, greeting, “How do you do, Miss.Garcia.”
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“How do you do, Mr.Clark,” I bowed and returned the greeting just as he did.
“Please, this way. Mrs.Cole and other ladies are waiting for you,” Mr.Clark gestured and led us
inside.
As Miss.Parker and I followed him in, we were
dazzled by the sights around us.
The Cole Manor was built into the mountains,
adorned with intricate beams and painted rafters, pavilions and towers, ancient trees and bizarre rocks, as well as lakes and gardens.
Every step revealed a new scene,
breathtakingly beautiful.
Classic aesthetic was on full display here.
Had it not been for my prior knowledge, anyone stumbling into this place would think it was
a celestial paradise, akin to a five–star tourist
attraction.
After walking for a few minutes, just as we thought we had arrived, Mr.Clark surprisingly led us to a golf cart.
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This estate was so large we could easily get lost.
The expressions on Miss.Parker and me
mirrored that of a country bumpkin entering a lavish garden.
Eventually, the cart stopped in front of a smaller building.
“Miss.Garcia, please,” Mr.Clark said, guiding us into the building.
From a distance, we could hear laughter and chatter coming from the room; there was a lively atmosphere without being overwhelming.
“Madam, Miss. Garcia and her assistant have
arrived,” Mr.Clark announced loudly. As the
chatter in the hall abruptly ceased, everyone
turned to look at us.
A lady dressed customed Chanel gracefully rose and walked toward me.
Though her face bore the marks of time, her
skin remained smooth and delicate, with a warm, pleasant complexion. Her features were
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dignified and graceful, suggesting that in her youth, she must have been stunningly beautiful.
I wondered if it was just my imagination, but
I felt that this lady’s face looked somewhat familiar, as if I had seen her somewhere before.
