On the Ruins of His Regret I Soar novel Chapter 221

“But I raised you. I know who you are.”

“If you truly had no romantic feelings for Jessica, you never would have agreed to marry her, no matter how much your grandfather adored her. But if you claim to love her, then you wouldn’t have let her suffer so much. The truth is, you just don’t love her enough.”

With that, Susan Lane pushed herself up from the sofa. “I’ll have Stella make you some soup to clear your head. Drink it and get some sleep.”

Lance Smith watched his grandmother’s retreating figure.

“Grandma,” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest, “I’m sorry you have to worry about my affairs at your age.”

Susan Lane paused. “Oh, it’s not just for you. It’s for poor Amy. I don’t trust any other woman to love a child more than her own mother.”

Then she left him alone in the living room.

…

Rebecca Jones and Jessica Brown officially took over the company. That evening, Rebecca hosted a dinner for a few key executives and representatives from their most stable partner companies.

She’d chosen an upscale restaurant.

After parking the car, Jessica was heading for the entrance when she saw George, flanked by an entourage, about to go inside. She knew he was probably on a job for Mr. George, so she quickly stepped back, careful not to greet him and risk interfering. Dr. White had told her that while Mr. George was furious about George beating up Lawrence Harris at the club, he had still pulled strings to protect him. Mr. George was a good man.

Just as he reached the door, George paused and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Jessica standing a short distance away. She hadn’t expected him to look back, but when she recovered, a bright smile spread across her face. She gave him a tiny, adorable wave.

George’s expression remained stoic, but a flicker of warmth eased into his eyes.

Rebecca smiled smoothly. “Mr. Brooks, to be honest, Lucy resigned just yesterday. We’ve already assigned someone to fill her spot.”

“Who?” Joe Brooks demanded.

“Camila,” Rebecca replied.

He scoffed, his face twisting in disgust. “Camila? Her chest is all wrong. It doesn’t showcase the superiority of our lingerie. We only work with Lucy.”

It was common knowledge that products marketed to women offered returns of over two hundred percent. A set of shapewear, for instance, could sell for hundreds, even thousands, of dollars, while its production cost was less than a tenth of the retail price. The profits were immense, which explained Joe Brooks’s arrogance. And it was true—lingerie accounted for a third of StreamSphere’s net profits.

“Mr. Brooks, I understand your concern,” Rebecca said, forcing a pleasant smile. “We’re already in the process of recruiting more influencers. But Camila’s commercial value is undeniable. Besides, her physique—toned and curvy—is what many women aspire to. Eighty percent of her followers are women, and let’s not forget, ninety-nine percent of shapewear customers are women.”