Chapter 8: Winning the Heart of Future Husband for Family Honor

"For this position, we have a strict requirement: knowledge of two or more foreign languages for basic translation and proficiency in Mandarin. You sound like you're from Eden?"

Dashton Xandra interrupted Caleb Baker's thoughts and proceeded with his routine questioning.

Caleb Baker looked back at Dashton Xandra, his eyes seemingly devoid of emotion. In a leisurely tone, he retorted, "Isn't there a chair?"

He didn't want to remain standing.

Dashton Xandra was caught off guard.

This was a job interviewee.

Did he need to be treated with special care?

Having no other option, Dashton Xandra swallowed his surprise: "Should... Should I get one for you?"

"Do it."

"..."

The curt reply made Dashton Xandra feel as though the man before him was not a desperate job-seeker, but rather a snobbish noble treating the world as his game?

Dashton Xandra intended to make him realize the impropriety of his attitude, but he never expected Caleb Baker to accept his offer. Left with no other choice, Dashton Xandra fetched a chair for the arrogant young man, cursing inwardly at the absurdity of the situation.

He didn't understand.

Why did he find himself yielding to this handsome young man?

Once seated, Caleb Baker casually straightened his legs, his slim jawline slightly raised, "Thanks, continue."

Dashton Xandra: "..."

Who was interviewing whom?

This was giving him a headache.

Dashton Xandra did not think highly of the young man before him, who he deemed as a vain and overbearing adolescent. So what if he was good-looking?

What did the boss see in him that made him think differently?

And also.

He glanced again at his resume sent via email.

Only 23 years old?

Knowing his real age, which is just post-graduation, it was easy to estimate his ability. In some cases, age and ability are directly proportional. Dashton Xandra couldn't help but snicker, it was derisive laughter.

"Foreign languages, how many do you know?"

Caleb Baker seemed to ignore his sneer, "Which languages are you primarily looking for?"

"English and French are necessary, the other one can be any."

"Understood."

"So, you're good with all of them? What level?"

Caleb Baker's expression and tone remained unchanged, he spoke slowly, "I haven't taken any exams, but I can communicate effectively."

Dashton Xandra was flabbergasted. If it were not for Yvonne's recommendation, he would have liked to kick this arrogant guy out by now!

What was he talking about?

Coming for an interview without any systematic assessment?

Was he here to toy with him?

"Are you sure you can do it? Then read a poem or an article in English and French and, also, their translation." Dashton Xandra crossed his arms and leaned back, devoid of any expectation.

"Any poem will do?"

"Yes, as long as your language proficiency is good."

Caleb Baker lightly tapped his phone screen, his eyes seemingly deciding which poem would be better.

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Yvonne Finley was standing under the archway outside the door. She swiped to answer the call and continued in a soft voice, "Hello."

A brief greeting, yet it carried a sense of distance.

On the phone was her grandfather, Sebastian Finley, the patriarch of the Finley family's electronics technology business in the southwest.

She, on the other hand, took her mother's surname. Her father married into the Finley family.

"I heard you opened a gallery and sent a congratulatory gift over."

"Yes, thank you."

Yet, Yvonne Finley's voice was too gentle, giving Sebastian Finley the wrong impression that she was easily manipulated and obedient. Without any preamble, he said with his usual firm tone, "Next month, the young master from that family will be in Chelsea on a business trip. You should meet him, spend time together so you have a basis for your relationship when the time for your engagement comes."

The curve of Yvonne's lips did not alter as she stared at the grey sky. "Grandpa," she said.

"You told me that you have arranged a marriage for me and asked me to return to the country, so when will you tell me about my father's whereabouts?"

The reason she came back.

It was a kind of bargain.

Sebastian had said that only if she obediently got engaged to stabilize the Finley family's foundation would he tell her where her father, who has been missing for many years, actually was.

Her mother, Rachel Finley, died when she was nine years old.

Since then, her father, Alexander Johnson, disappeared among the masses, leaving her in the ruthless Finley family, and has been gone for sixteen years.

But she had a compelling reason to find her father, and it was not out of resentment, but...

"Yvonne, don't touch the past," Sebastian's tone changed, his intimidating rebuke seemed to pierce the phone, slapping her in the face.

Yvonne felt a sudden chill on her face, looking up, she saw that it had started to snow.

"I know you look down on me. After all, I am the child of a man who sold himself at night. But aren't you clearer about what happened to my mother's death? Suicide? Do you believe it?"

Rachel Finley was Sebastian Finley's most beloved daughter.

Even his own son didn't receive his favor.

He had doted on his daughter in every way, and Rachel was also remarkably capable. The Finley family had broken tradition, not imposing the idea of son inheriting the family business. Instead, they trained Rachel as the successor. Sadly, Rachel fell in love with her father, who was a presence in the night. Sebastian, caring most about family honor, naturally found it humiliating. The parents had gone through countless trials that she didn't know about, but as her grandfather, Sebastian completely looked down upon her, because the blood in her was deemed inferior.

However, a once strong and pampered woman like her mother died strangely sixteen years ago, and the manner of...

Not only did the Finley family refrain from reporting the incident, but they also announced to the public that it was a suicide resulting from depression.

That night, her father Alexander Johnson disappeared without a trace.

One after another, all these incidents, she couldn't just overlook.

If there was a slight suspicion, it would be too far-fetched.

"Whether you believe it or not, it's been over ten years, what are you trying to do? As a woman in the family, you should win over your future husband's heart, bring honor to the family, be a good society lady and elevate your own status. That's what you should be doing!"

Sebastian exploded. She could almost hear the sound of him slamming the table from the other end.

Yvonne slowly narrowed her eyes, neither angry nor annoyed, she kept her composure: "Grandpa, you have high blood pressure, you should avoid getting too worked up, we can talk about it later."

Having said that, she ended the call.

There were only two purposes for her return to the country this time. First, to find out her father's whereabouts, and second, to break off the engagement.

No true aristocracy would accept her background, after all, her father's identity was clear. The so-called marital alliance was nothing more than to establish a connection with the most marginalized and powerless side of a large family, in order to gain access to one of their interests.

As far as she knew, her future yet-to-be husband, was also from a concubine.

In their eyes, a son born of a concubine and a legitimate daughter with an inferior bloodline made a perfect match.

If she wasn't a famous artist overseas, they probably wouldn't even look at her.

But her life.

No one could rule it.

*

*

As Yvonne returned to Dashton Xandra's office, she didn't notice the doorframe and was tripped, causing her to stagger a step.

Quite unintentionally, she interrupted an ongoing interview inside.

The man sitting in the chair cast a casual glance towards her.

Yvonne looked up.

Her gaze was drawn into his captivating eyes.

Although his gaze was indifferent, once their eyes met, it was easy for one's thoughts to drift and heart to flutter.

Caleb Baker saw Yvonne's slight embarrassment at this small stumble, and his brow raised slightly in amusement, almost as if he was laughing. Seeming to have a good temper, he eyed her lazily and said in a lazy voice, "Jours sombres et faire l'amour avec vous."

His voice was superior, deep and indolently magnetizing, a buzz in your ear that could fog your mind. It was very suitable for reading aloud.

On hearing this sentence, Yvonne's eyelids jumped.