"Dallas, hello. I apologize for disturbing you at this time, but the sooner we handle your sister's matter, the better it will be for all of us—"
Jordan stepped forward to explain the situation, pointedly avoiding any mention of Clayton or the cause of the accident, focusing only on what should be done next.
Dallas wasn't a fool. He picked up on the subtle warning in Jordan's words. She was gently advising him: the accident had nothing to do with the car owner, but the driver was nowhere to be found. Better to keep quiet and take the money while he could, getting as much as possible.
Dallas's lips pressed into a tight line, silent as humiliation and anger burned fiercely within him. After the other party finished speaking, he coldly replied, "Please leave."
Jordan froze, momentarily at a loss as to how to handle the fact that all her heartfelt persuasion had only yielded three words. She wanted to say more, but when she met his gaze, she faltered, her confidence wavering.
Seeing this, Averi spoke up, "Dallas, acting on impulse won't do your sister any good. From what I understand, her prognosis isn't very optimistic. After the surgery, she'll need extended hospitalization, medication, and rehabilitation—and none of that comes for free."
His lips pressed even tighter as he stared directly at her, his eyes bloodshot. "I'll find a way to cure her myself."
Averi took the agreement from Jordan's hand and held it out to him, her tone exceedingly gentle. "Dallas, we absolutely don't intend any insult to your sister. We simply want to offer some compensation."
She held it out for a moment, and seeing that he truly had no intention of taking it, withdrew her hand and placed a business card before him.
"Dallas, here's my card. Please reach out if you need anything. But remember, right now, I'm the one asking you for help—the ball's in your court. Once you come to me, our positions will shift. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?"
She rarely tried to persuade anyone, but unfortunately, it had backfired. Dallas answered by tossing the card away.
Averi said nothing more, bid him goodbye, and turned to leave.
In the car, Jordan wore a troubled expression. "Averi, what do we do now?"
If she were in a different position, she would admire Dallas's unyielding spirit, unaffected by poverty or wealth. But as Averi's secretary, she could only worry that he was too stubborn.
Averi looked down, flipping through the documents for her upcoming meeting, and replied softly, "There's no rush."
*
Dallas stood in front of the towering building of the J Corporation headquarters, looked up at its height, and stepped inside.
In the end, he had come to see her.
After receiving a call from reception, Jordan personally went downstairs to meet him, arranging for him to wait in the conference room, saying the boss would see him once her meeting was over.
Dallas sat there until dark, the lights outside brightening the cityscape, before Jordan reappeared.
The two of them walked down the hallway, one after the other, to the office at the end. Jordan opened the door, gestured for him to enter, then closed the door as she left.
In the office, the young woman was finishing up her signature. Only after setting down her pen did she look up at him, greeting him casually, almost like an old friend. "Dallas, it's been a while."
Dallas couldn't quite gauge her attitude, so he opted to remain silent.
"Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? How about coffee?"
"No need."
Averi made the decision for him, picking up the phone to instruct, "Jordan, bring in two glasses of water." Her instincts told her that he'd prefer water over coffee or tea.
Jordan soon knocked and entered, placing a glass of water before Dallas.
Once the office door closed again, Averi stood up, walked over to sit on the sofa opposite him, meeting his gaze without flinching.
She had a classic look: soft waves of hair, arched brows, bright almond-shaped eyes, and a delicate nose and mouth. Her beauty was warm and refined, entirely without sharp edges.
Dallas was a man who had truly faced life and death, his sensitivity to danger having sharpened into instinct. He couldn't understand why this soft-spoken woman triggered his instincts so strongly.
"Ms. Forbes, you know why I'm here."
Averi nodded.
It had been almost half a year since the car accident, and Fiona was still in a coma. The ICU costs alone were enough to drain him. Averi had expected him to hold out for a month at most, yet he had managed to last this long.
Seeing her silence, Dallas finally spoke, his voice strained, "I need money."
Averi smiled. "Dallas, you're not very good at asking for help."
Noticing his finely boned hand clench abruptly, she quickly added, "Apologies, my wording was misleading." Without further explanation, she continued, "The offer we discussed at the hospital is still valid—medical expenses, compensation for emotional distress—"
"No need," he interrupted her. "She doesn't need charity. I'm here today only to borrow money for her treatment. I will pay back every cent."
Averi paused briefly and said, "Dallas, words alone don't count." She had no need for him to repay, but she wasn't about to play the nice guy in a negotiation.
This man, despite his battlefield experience, seemed out of his depth in the business world. Not only did he struggle with asking for help, but negotiation didn't seem to be his strong suit either.
"We can sign a promissory note, with interest calculated accordingly."
Averi looked at him with interest. "But Dallas, money isn't exactly what I'm short on. What I need is for you to keep this strictly confidential."
"I won't—"
This time, she cut him off, "Words alone don't mean much, do they?"
Dallas narrowed his eyes swiftly, his voice deep. "What do you want me to do?"
"What can you do for me?"
"Anything I'm capable of."
"Then—how about killing someone for me?"
He tensed immediately.
Averi had only been teasing, but seeing his reaction, she couldn't help but laugh. "Just kidding. What I need is a little insurance. Something like… a small secret of yours."
"Secret?"
"Do you have any secrets worth as much as those medical bills?"
Clearly, he didn't.
She had anticipated his answer. Raising her phone, she pointed the camera at him. "Dallas, please remove all your clothes."
Dallas pressed his lips together, for the first time wondering if he'd misheard her. "What did you say?"
"I'm asking you to take off all your clothes," she said, casually holding up her phone, her expression unchanged. "Just a little insurance. Don't worry—unless I start hearing strange rumors, I'll be the only one who ever sees this little video."
Dallas began to catch on, throwing her words back at her. "Words alone don't mean much."
"Right now, you're the one who needs something from me. Of course, we could discuss other options, but I doubt Fiona can wait that long."
The line struck his weakest point.
He suddenly remembered what she'd said back at the hospital—that by the time he came to her, their positions would have shifted.
Suppressing the mix of emotions within him, Dallas said indifferently, "I'm a man. Even if this video ended up online, I'd lose nothing."
"Then go ahead."
His jaw clenched tighter, the line of his already sharp jaw becoming even more defined.
The more he reacted this way, the more Averi was convinced she'd guessed correctly. To him, pride meant more than money, so a compromising video was more effective leverage than any financial penalty.
She was patient, waiting quietly.
After a long pause, Dallas finally stood up. Without hesitation, he pulled off his shirt, exposing his upper body to her gaze and the camera.
His muscles were beautifully sculpted—solid and lean, clearly not just the product of a gym routine. There were a few scars across his chest and abdomen, some longer, some shorter. A circular scar on his left arm looked suspiciously like a bullet wound.
Averi felt a surge of curiosity. She hadn't expected to see a gunshot wound in such peaceful times.
Whether from the cold, tension, or maybe even anger, he felt his chest tighten, his skin reacting under her unwavering gaze.
And somehow, his reaction amused her. What had begun as a strictly businesslike demand for leverage suddenly took on an edge of low intrigue.
Averi lifted her gaze to meet his.
Dallas understood, his expression hardening further as he reached down to unbuckle his belt.
Before long, he was left in nothing but his briefs, the fabric barely concealing the shape of his body beneath.
