Chapter 510 Where Is Your Grandfather?
Jessica provided James with a crucial lead about Michelle's parents' death.
Years ago, when Michelle's parents died in the car accident, Jessica had accompanied her to the police station to identify the bodies.
There, she saw the perpetrator—Bob Sanchez, a young truck driver who had recently obtained his license.
The man reeked of alcohol and appeared mentally sluggish, clearly having caused the accident while driving drunk.
Bob was sentenced to seven years in prison.
"I thought his life was ruined," Jessica explained, "but a few years ago, I spotted him at the Night Club. Despite twenty years passing and his appearance changing after prison, I still recognized him."
What surprised her most was Bob's circumstances—far from living in poverty, he was thriving, surrounded by friends at the bar and spending lavishly.
"When drunk, Bob boasted about having plenty of money," she continued. "He claimed that during his seven years in prison, he not only lived well but earned twenty million dollars."
"Currently, he's the transportation fleet manager for the Garcia Group, with an annual salary and bonuses approaching one million."
Jessica lowered her voice. "I made some discreet inquiries and discovered Mrs. Garcia herself arranged Bob's position within the Garcia family."
She'd long suspected Mrs. Garcia was behind Michelle's parents' accident. Learning that Michelle's father had been adopted into Mrs.
Garcia's family only strengthened her suspicions. However, given her own compromised position, she hadn't pursued the matter until now.
James recorded the details and fixed Jessica with a serious look. "I need you to investigate Bob's situation thoroughly. If you uncover the truth, I'll overlook your past transgressions—otherwise, the Night Club faces permanent closure."
Jessica left with tears of gratitude, vowing to uncover the truth.
---
As James considered whether to tell his mother about these revelations, his phone vibrated. He put in his earpiece to answer.
"James," Christopher's hesitant voice came through. "I've consolidated those shares as discussed and selected office space—in the Golden Tower directly across from the Garcia Group. It's an entire floor with twenty rooms and three halls, sufficient for our needs."
His tone shifted, "However..."
"Just tell me what's wrong," James replied directly. "Not enough money, or someone giving you trouble?"
"We can't register 'Grandma's Black Tea,'" Christopher admitted. "I checked online and the name was available, but when I submitted the paperwork yesterday afternoon, they rejected it."
"The Secretary of State Office claims the name is already taken," he added with a bitter laugh.
James narrowed his eyes. "Already taken? Could Beckett's people have registered it first?"
"That was my first thought—that the Garcia family might have preemptively registered it," Christopher said.
"So I tried a slightly different name, but they rejected that one too, citing the same reason—duplicate name."
He sighed. "It's as if someone's deliberately blocking us. I plan to go back again, but honestly, I don't have much confidence. Would you have time to join me?"
"No problem," James agreed, understanding that Christopher needed support after being beaten down for so long.
Without further discussion, he drove to meet him.
Twenty minutes later, James arrived at the Secretary of State Office.
Christopher greeted him at the entrance, dressed in a formal suit and carrying a briefcase.
"Thank goodness you're here," Christopher said, visibly relieved. "Now I feel much more confident. I couldn't handle their deliberate obstruction alone—my network in Sovereign City isn't extensive yet."
"You could have managed this," James smiled. "You just lack confidence. Did you find out who's blocking us?"
"Not yet. But I learned that the person handling our application is Jett Cook," Christopher explained as they walked through the bustling hall.
"He's a Sovereign City native whose mother has blood ties to the Harvey family—which explains his arrogance."
"Half connected to the Harvey family? Interesting," James remarked as they approached the second floor.
After showing their ID and appointment number to security, they proceeded directly to room 208 in the east wing.
Christopher knocked, but received no answer despite hearing laughter inside. He knocked again with the same result.
James frowned and pushed the door open himself.
Inside the small office, a man and woman were holding hands and chatting intimately.
The man—bald, round-faced, and about thirty-five—stood up abruptly. The woman, noticeably older but fashionably dressed, looked annoyed at the interruption.
"Who are you? Who let you in?" the man shouted, clearly Jett Cook.
"Mr. Cook, it's me, Christopher—we had an appointment for the registration approval," Christopher stepped forward with an apologetic smile. "The door was blown open by the wind. I'm so sorry about that."
He pulled out a quality cigar and offered it.
"Entering without knocking—no manners at all," Jett snorted, sweeping the cigar onto the floor. "Don't try bribing me."
Christopher bent down to pick up the cigar without showing any displeasure, as if accustomed to such disrespect.
"I apologize for my carelessness," he said smoothly. "Since the previous names didn't work, I've prepared another one: 'Leaf & Sip Tea.' I've searched extensively and found no duplicates. I hope you can help process this."
James raised an eyebrow at the creative name as Christopher handed over the documents.
Jett barely glanced at the papers before making a few meaningless keystrokes.
"Sorry, this one can't be approved either," he said, tossing the paperwork back. "Go back and think of another name."
James noticed immediately that Jett hadn't actually searched for anything—he had merely pretended to type.
"Rejected again?" Christopher was stunned. "That's impossible! This brand doesn't exist anywhere!"
"Just because it's not visible doesn't mean it hasn't been registered," Jett waved dismissively. "Go back and try again. If you have more problems, talk to the front desk downstairs—I'm busy."
He turned his attention to his phone, occasionally glancing at the woman's stockinged legs.
"Mr. Cook..." Christopher began.
"Just leave, we're busy," the woman interrupted, pushing Christopher away with obvious contempt.
James stepped forward, his expression darkening. "As government officials, don't you think your attitude is inappropriate?"
Jett slammed his desk. "Who are you to question me? My attitude is none of your business!"
He pointed toward the door. "If you have complaints, there's a suggestion box in the hall."
The woman pointed to her badge, laughing mockingly. "Here, Sable Ellis—that's my name. Make sure to spell it correctly when you write your complaints."
She crossed her legs with exaggerated flair, toe pointed high in a gesture of pure contempt.
James stopped Christopher from attempting to smooth things over. "It's precisely because complaints are useless that people like you can act so tyrannically in a public office."
"Get out!" Jett slammed his desk again. "Stop interfering with my work!"
"This is a government office, not your personal property," James replied calmly. "You can't order me to leave."
"Are you deliberately causing trouble?" Jett growled. "Sable, call security—no, call the police."
As Sable reached for the phone, Christopher made one last attempt. "Please, Mr. Cook—this is all a misunderstanding. We're not from around here."
He clasped Jett's hand. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."
"Get off me," Jett yanked his hand away. "Your registration won't be approved, period."
In truth, he had been bribed by Beckett.
James studied him carefully. "Let me ask you one last time: are you deliberately obstructing us?"
"Obstruct? Why would I bother obstructing someone as insignificant as you?" Jett sneered. "A tea company isn't important enough for that. Your applications are being rejected because the names duplicate existing registrations. If you want approval, choose a non-duplicate name."
"Then check if 'Your Daddy's Tea' is taken," James said coldly. "If it's not taken, I'll call it that."
"Are you insulting me?" Jett's eyes narrowed.
"How about 'Your Grandpa's Tea'?" James pressed.
Jett exploded. "Not even 'Your Great-Grandfather's Tea' would be approved!"
James smiled. "So you really don't want me to establish a company at all."
"That's your problem, not mine," Jett spread his hands dismissively.
Without breaking eye contact, James took out his phone and dialed.
"Ron," he said when the call connected, "I need a favor. Please come over."
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