The representative from Fern University, still standing in Weston’s office, shifted slightly. “This student doesn’t come from a particularly complex family background,” he said, his tone careful. “His family can afford to send him abroad for studies.”
Weston listened, his expression unreadable. He knew how competitive scholarships were, and the significance of a student being able to study overseas was not to be underestimated. But as with all decisions, the Ford Corporation had its criteria—beyond just academic success.
“Not every student who leaves comes back,” the man continued, aware of the risks involved. “We need to ensure we’re not investing in someone who will vanish without a trace.”
Weston remained silent for a beat, his fingers tapping the surface of the desk. Business was all about returns, about ensuring that efforts paid off in ways that benefitted the company. Generosity had its place, but it always came with expectations.
After a moment, Weston finally spoke, his voice calm yet firm. “Grades alone aren’t enough.”
The representative blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“If I have time, I’ll visit the school myself, observe the students, see their potential firsthand. If you need any financial support for the project, the Ford Corporation will assist.” Weston’s words were deliberate, calculating.
The man’s eyes widened in realization, and he quickly rose from his chair. “I, representing Fern University, would like to sincerely thank you, Mr. Ford.”
Weston gave Ben a brief glance, signaling for him to escort the representative out. Once the door closed, the room felt quieter, the weight of business settling in.
Weston leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. His mind wandered to Stella—how she had begged him yesterday with such transparency, as if she could see right through him. He had agreed to her request about Roger, allowing them more time together. If it made her happy, he was willing to indulge her. But the thought of Roger staying in the country for long made Weston uneasy.
If Stella continued seeing him, Weston knew she would cling to him. He wouldn’t allow it to go on indefinitely, not when there were so many risks involved.
Right now, this—sponsoring Roger’s study abroad—was the only viable solution. Not everyone had the chance to study overseas, and if Stella didn’t understand, perhaps the school’s involvement would make the situation easier to digest.
As Weston was lost in his thoughts, his phone buzzed. Guinevere’s name flashed on the screen. It reminded him of their appointment with the doctor that day. He stood, turning to the door. He would have the driver take her.
Guinevere was still living in the old mansion, and Weston had been making regular trips there, a duty he undertook for her, though it wasn’t always easy. The situation had become more delicate after her outbursts. At first, the doctor came to the mansion, but Guinevere had lost control more than once, destroying things in a fit of rage. For the sake of her family—Chris and Wendy—they had moved the sessions to a private hospital, one that ensured confidentiality.
In the car, Guinevere sat quietly beside him. Her voice broke the silence. “What projects are you working on in Fern City?” she asked, her tone casual but probing.
“A new property development,” Weston replied shortly. His words were clipped, but it was all he intended to share at that moment.
Guinevere fell silent for a while before asking again, “Have you been feeling tired lately? If you need a break, I can go see the doctor on my own next time.”
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