Chapter 312 Digging for Gold
“Get out,” Jackson barked, livid.
Wyatt threw an arm around Yunice and swaggered out without a care in the world.
The next morning, Paul received a deposit of twenty million from a middle-aged man’s account. It was the return on an investment he’d made with just ten million in capital. He hadn’t lifted a finger—just wired the money. And in one week, it had doubled. Who could resist that kind of return?
Paul had considered the possibility of a scam, but ten million was pocket change to him. Even if it vanished, it wasn’t going to hurt. But it hadn’t vanished. He’d made a fortune. Ecstatic, he wired the full twenty million—principal and profit—back to Yunice and asked her to manage it for him. In his mind, even if this turned out to be a scam, at least the scammer had serious credibility. And if the pot kept growing, they might not be able to keep up with payouts. Even if he lost some of it, for the Powell family, it would barely leave a dent.
Yunice stayed calm and accepted the transfer, promising to deposit forty million into his account the following week. But she did the math—at this pace, her capital chain would collapse within a week. She needed money. A lot of it. Billions, if possible. Now, where could she find a rich fool to fleece? She glanced at Wyatt behind the wheel. …Nope. She didn’t have the guts.
Instead, Yunice started texting people for loans. She opened with Quinton and asked for one billion straight. Quinton, mid-breakfast, nearly spit out his milk. “You trying to buy an immortal tortoise or something?”
Yunice replied, “I’m strapped right now.” Strapped was an understatement. A billion? Quinton wiped his mouth. “Why not ask Wyatt?”
Yunice responded, “I’m asking you because we’re friends.” Manipulative? Absolutely. But effective. Quinton had no choice. He was still counting on Yunice to help treat his precious child. A billion? Two billion? He’d find it.
Once Yunice received Quinton’s transfer, she hit up Taylor, Freya, and Victor too. Altogether, she scraped together fifty million. With Quinton’s billion, she was still far from her target. But it was enough to keep things afloat for the next three weeks.
Wyatt pulled into the company garage.
Yunice hopped out with a handwritten referral letter from Wyatt and went straight to the pharmaceutical research center to pick up her access badge. With the badge, she’d have open access to the lab. Due to the risk involved in drug development, the lab was on the top floor—two levels above Wyatt’s own office. As she handled paperwork with HR, a woman in a white lab coat strode in, hands in her pockets, with the air of someone who didn’t care how loud her steps echoed. She was clearly here for something else but overheard Yunice talking to the HR manager. Without warning, she snatched the letter from Yunice’s hand. She opened it. “Introduced by Mr. Wyatt?” she asked, gaze cool and probing. Yunice calmly looked her over too.
First the lab coat, then the name tag—she was a licensed pharmacist. Then the marks on her hands from long hours of lab work. Most likely, she worked on original drug development. They might even end up collaborating. This woman looked like the type who didn’t play well with others. Yunice retrieved the letter and resumed her conversation with HR. But the woman shot her a sharp look, then suddenly grabbed Yunice by the wrist and dragged her away without a word. With one hand in her coat pocket and zero regard for the curious stares of nearby coworkers, she strode confidently through the hall. Naturally, Yunice also became the center of attention. She frowned. She had no idea what this woman wanted and tried to shake free. But the woman shoved her into the elevator and hit the button for the executive floor.
Yunice studied her again during the ride. She looked to be in her thirties. Probably single, judging by how well she maintained herself. If she didn’t always have that icy expression, she might even look younger. When the elevator doors opened, the woman walked out first without turning around. “Follow me.”
Fine. Lead the way. Yunice trailed behind, watching her swaying low ponytail and unbothered, loose-limbed gait. They arrived at the CEO’s office. The woman stopped and pointed at the door. “Go in.” Yunice raised a brow. “Did you knock?” If someone inside was discussing confidential matters, barging in would be asking for trouble. The woman sneered but didn’t argue. She stepped up and knocked. Yunice stood behind her. She wasn’t the one stirring trouble. She had no reason to lead the charge.