Chapter 47
The car came to a gradual halt at the entrance of the Golden Family estate. "Jenny, we've arrived," I announced.
Jenny promptly collected her belongings and exited the vehicle. "Thank you, Miss Bailey," she replied.
"No need for thanks, Jenny," Miss Bailey responded.
After bidding Jenny farewell, I proceeded to drive Katherine back to Bay No.1.
Bay No.1 was a coveted residential area in Sevan, its close proximity to the sea causing the price per square meter to skyrocket past ten thousand dollars.
For the average person, owning a home here was a dream that would take a lifetime to fulfill.
To reside here was to truly experience life in all its grandeur.
Yet for us, it was merely survival, a means to get by.
The car glided smoothly into the neighborhood, descending into the underground parking lot teeming with an array of luxury vehicles.
"Miss Bailey, we're here," I announced.
I parked the car with precision, killed the engine, and swiftly made my way to the passenger side to open the door. Extending my left hand, Katherine placed her delicate, fair hand in mine.
Upon exiting the car, Katherine expressed her satisfaction. "John, you did well."
"I'm merely doing my duty, Miss Bailey," I responded.
I couldn't help but imagine how much more content I would be if her tender hand was placed elsewhere on my body.
This woman was undeniably beautiful, her presence constantly teasing my senses.
"You've worked hard tonight, here is your well-earned fee," she said, producing a stack of green bills from her bag. It was no less than four or five hundred dollars.
"Miss Bailey, I can't accept this," I protested, waving my hand in refusal.
"Take it when I offer it to you," she insisted, thrusting the money into my hand. "Now, go home and rest. Remember to pick me up at seven o'clock tomorrow morning."
I was taken aback. "Miss Bailey, I..."
"It's late. Drive my car home and bring me breakfast tomorrow," she instructed before sauntering away in her high heels, her hips swaying with each step.
As I drove home, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss.
I felt like I was being kept.
Driving a million-dollar luxury car and receiving payment for it was a rather pleasant experience.
With music playing in the background, I sped all the way home, the immense power of the Range Rover introducing me to the exhilarating sensation of push-back.
Upon parking the car, I found myself wide awake. The lingering scent of Katherine still filled the car.
My gaze fell on the driving recorder.
I recalled a news story about a man who discovered a woman's secret in the driving recorder of a second-hand car he had purchased. He had used this information to blackmail her. The woman, desperate to keep her secret hidden, complied until the man's greed became insatiable. She finally reported him to the police, and the news broke.
It felt as though two little devils were whispering in my ears - one urging me to watch, the other advising me against it.
In the end, curiosity triumphed over reason.
The Range Rover's built-in recorder was high-end, the recorded videos were exceptionally clear, and most importantly, it had ample storage space, 256GB, which didn't need to be cleared for a year.
The device was filled with hundreds of videos, each about five minutes long.
I began to sift through them. Most were mundane drives with light, elegant music playing in the background.
However, watching them at normal speed was too tedious, so I increased the playback speed.
After half an hour of this, just as I was about to switch off the device, a voice that made my blood boil echoed from the recorder.
"Ah... professor, not here, people from the company will find out."
I quickly returned the playback speed to normal and cranked up the volume. As I continued to review the videos, I realized the recorder wasn't recording, so I didn't have to worry about it looping and leaving evidence.
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