Chapter 8

At the Winston Villa, late morning.

Marvin stepped out of his Audi.

Before long, Gennifer came running and burst out of the house. “My husband, did you really send this Gloriest Blossom?” she asked, her face glowing. Gennifer’s hands were still cradling the five-hundred-thousand-dollar flower arrangement.

Because the arrival of the Gloriest Blossom was so utterly staggering, Derick and Russel had deliberately delayed leaving for work just to confirm that the flower wasn't sent by Marvin.

Even Derick Winston’s second son—Russel Winston’s younger brother, Axel Winston—had rushed home from his campus dorm out of sheer shock. Axel was an exceptionally brilliant PhD student in science and a teaching assistant at Gloriston University, far wiser and sharper than Russel.

The only person who still maintained respect for Gennifer was Axel. He approached Marvin and asked, “Brother-in-law, how have you been?” Though Axel was a year older than Marvin, he still called him "brother" and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I’m doing well. May you always be in good health, Brother-in-law!” Marvin smiled warmly. “You should be studying right now.”

“There are two major things: Marvin and the Gloriest Blossom. Two surprises that forced me to flee my dorm. I sacrificed a whole day just for my genius brother-in-law!”

Axel managed to stay clear of Russel’s toxicity because he rarely came home. Ever since finishing high school, he had thrived on living independently and focusing entirely on his studies. When he did return, it was only for major matters or annual breaks.

Axel looked at him intently. “Marvin, my dissertation is on Glorisium. Would you be willing to be my private tutor?”

Hearing that question, Marvin broke into a wide smile. “I merely discovered it, Axel. Please consult the experts at Gloriston University; there are professors there who understand far more than I do,” Marvin said, trying to remain humble.

If one wanted true mastery, it was best to learn directly from the discoverer. That was the thought running through Axel’s mind. One of the reasons he was so thrilled to have Marvin as his brother-in-law was his brilliant yet grounded nature.

Axel had been one of the few who rejected the false accusations hurled at Marvin. He was among the first to push for Marvin’s exoneration, though he lacked the power to change much. He could only watch helplessly as his brother-in-law suffered.

Upon learning that Marvin was paroled and proven innocent, Axel rejoiced. “You were far too good to be branded a terrorist, Marvin. I hope whoever framed you gets what's coming to them.” Axel adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

Gennifer beamed. “Darling, thank you so much for the flowers.”

Marvin pulled his wife close in an embrace. “Special just for you, Gennifer.”

Gennifer blushed, her heart blooming with joy.

On the veranda, near the ten-meter-tall pillars, Russel Winston stood with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out. “It looks like someone delivered a package to the wrong address this morning. The Winston family didn't accept any parcels. Gennifer, get rid of that flower! There’s no sender’s name attached.”

A plausible excuse, at best. Could a courier really forget to attach a name card? Or was something else going on?

Marvin remained completely relaxed, not a trace of anxiety on his face. There was no need to worry, considering he was the one who had ordered the flowers in the first place.

Russel walked down the stairs and barked loudly, “Marvin, don’t you dare pretend you sent that flower to my sister! If I asked you to buy her a hundred-dollar bouquet right now, you wouldn't even be able to afford it.” Russel smiled condescendingly, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

He quickly motioned for Axel not to meddle. “Axel, my bookworm brother, I admit you know the periodic table by heart and understand every single detail about cutting-edge subatomic particles. But you know nothing about Gloriest Blossoms.”

What was Russel rambling about? Ironically, Axel actually understood the exact taxonomy of the Gloriest Blossom—its division, class, order, family, genus, and species. But Axel’s mouth wasn't nearly as loud or arrogant as his older brother's.

Marvin shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and replied coldly, “Why would I lie? Now, please go call your friend Raymond, the Young Master of Harvard! I hope he’s brushed his teeth and used mouthwash, because he’s about to lick the soles of my shoes.”

Russel choked, gasping as if someone had seized his throat upon hearing Marvin’s words. “Watch your filthy mouth, you ex-con! Do you know Raymond is the son of Chemisland's richest man? You have no right talking like that.”

“You’re far too dazzled by the Harvard family's wealth, Russel, my dear brother-in-law! If you want to keep your general manager position, you’d better stop cozying up to Raymond!” Marvin threatened as he continued walking at a leisurely pace.

Now, Russel stood face-to-face with Marvin. The longer Marvin stayed, the more nauseated Russel felt. He needed to find a new strategy and fast if he wanted to keep his family and business secure.

Axel stepped between them. “Marvin, let’s go inside. There are so many things I want to discuss with you.”

Marvin shot a sharp glance at Russel, then turned his body around and spoke without looking back. “You’d better head to work, Russel. Weren't you aware that hundreds of trucks carrying crude oil are arriving today?”

“You’ve lost your mind, Marvin!” Russel gasped, his eyes going wide. Right then and there, he dialed his office secretary. “Are you joking?” His face contorted in disbelief. A moment later, he muttered, “I’m heading to the office immediately this afternoon.” Then Russel slumped weakly into a teak chair on the veranda, staring out blankly at the sprawling lawn ahead.

*Could the delusions spouted by that pathetic in-law actually be true?* he thought to himself. Instead of feeling relieved by good news, Russel felt a chilling wave of dread wash over him.

Via chat, he messaged Raymond to ask if Harvard Corp had dispatched a billion dollars' worth of crude oil. Raymond replied that no such shipment had been sent.

Russel was haunted by terror. *Who on earth is sending this massive amount of crude oil for the next month?*

Remembering Marvin’s wager, he shook his head rapidly, rejecting the reality of Marvin's words.

It had never crossed Russel's mind that the pathetic in-law could deliver an entire month's worth of crude oil in under twenty-four hours. It was completely impossible.

“What power does an ex-con have to rescue Winsoil? Marvin is just a loser who talks big!” he grumbled to himself.

To verify the truth of the report, Russel rushed straight to Winsoil’s oil terminal located on the easternmost coast of Gloriston City. By mid-afternoon, before his very eyes, he witnessed a convoy of hundreds of ten-thousand-liter oil tankers lined up, queuing to enter the terminal gates.

At the office, he interrogated the board of directors and management. It was pathetic, really—how could a general manager remain completely in the dark about this?

One of the directors spoke up: “Last night, someone called me. They said they were from The Oxy. They’re the ones who sent it.”