Assistant Hugh was driving, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with one hand. It was the first time he had seen Mr. Anderson argue with a girl, and if they hadn't arrived at the grand theater hosting the concert, they might have continued.
"Mr. Anderson, we're here."
Rosie opened the door herself, ignoring the man behind her and walked towards the theater entrance. Her steps gradually slowed down when she saw the large poster at the entrance of the theater.
The grand theater in Ael is a top-tier venue, where the concerts held are by internationally renowned artists. Just renting the venue involves an enigmatic sum of money.
But in such a place, why is she here!
"Isabella Scott." The girl pronounced the name word by word, clenching her fists tightly, nearly biting through her teeth.
The girl's mind was a bit foggy, as frame by frame images flooded her brain like a movie.
A year ago, in Ael, there was a shortage of known A-type RH-negative blood. Rosie's mother was one recipient, and Isabella Scott was another.
The diversity of genetics caused this situation, as Rosie and her uncle had AB-type RH-negative blood, thus losing the qualification to donate blood to Rosie's mother.
However, Isabella Scott, who had A-type RH-negative blood, inexplicably disappeared when her aunt needed a blood transfusion.
Rosie's mother had been unwell since she was young and was always hospitalized.
The girl will always remember her mother lying in the emergency room, her legs weakened and collapsing to the ground while searching for Isabella Scott with a vacant stare.
— "You obviously promised well, so why did you suddenly disappear?"
— "Do you realize you killed my mother!"
Isabella Scott, you're a murderer not held accountable by law. How dare you live so brightly and gloriously.
She tightened her fists and looked at the poster, focusing on an ethereal-looking girl holding a cello and smiling like an angel. Everyone entering the theater paid more attention to this girl because she was young and beautiful.
The most ridiculous thing is that someone like Carl, an international big shot, would play second fiddle to Isabella Scott, his position on the poster not even surpassing her cello.
In a prestigious place like this, she can actually hold a concert.
According to the previous life, she hadn't seen this cousin for five years.
Back then, when her father planned to sell the company, it was her uncle who provoked him. Their family was more disgusting than the other.
At that time, due to tight timing, her father believed her uncle's words and managed to complete the procedures for selling a company worth tens of millions within a day.
Out of love for his daughter, her father looked at his beloved daughter slitting her wrists to resist marriage, lying pale on the hospital bed. In a moment of panic, he signed any contract her uncle gave him without a second thought.
In the end, the father and daughter went abroad and discovered at the bank that their account was empty. They somehow exchanged some valuable items for money, but her uncle's phone couldn't be reached. Later, after a long time, her father saw on TV that her uncle had taken over the company that was originally his and roughly knew what had happened.
In their previous life, if it hadn't been for her uncle's interference, Rosie and her father wouldn't have had such a tough life, starting from the bottom in a foreign land and having to guard against being stalked every day.
Today is indeed a perfect day with no clouds in the sky, the bright sun shining on Rosie as she stands in her glamorous dress at the entrance of the grand theater, feeling cold all over, her eyes filled with disgust as she stares intently at the girl on the poster.
Assistant Hugh pushed Charles Anderson over, and the young man smiled, "Miss Scott, the concert limits the number of people, I can't get in, Mr. Anderson will need you to push him in."
"Can I not go?" Rosie's voice was slightly hoarse, and she wasn't joking. She had never been more serious. She hated Isabella Scott to the point where seeing her made her want to vomit.
Charles turned his head, clearly seeing the disdain in the girl's eyes, a moment of confusion flashing through his black pupils.
"Rosie, this is a great opportunity to announce your identity." He affectionately called her name, as if this concert was held just for her.
In reality, what wavered the girl's determination to enter wasn't his words, but her belief that Isabella Scott was the one avoiding her.
Rosie first took a small step, then grasped the wheelchair handles, raised her solemn face, and slowly pushed the wheelchair toward the theater.
Compared to others, the two of them were the most prominent in the crowd, partly due to the wheelchair and partly due to their extraordinary appearance.
"That's the Anderson Family's Mr. Anderson, right? My god, it's truly an envy to beauty. Initially, I thought Mr. Anderson was already handsome and charming, but seeing now, this Mr. Anderson is the one truly elegant and outstanding. I haven't seen such a cool and graceful gentleman in years."
"The girl beside him is the daughter of a small company that Mr. Anderson wanted to marry recently, what's her name I forgot."
"She seems to have some looks, but those foxy eyes of hers, who knows what dirty tricks she used."
"I heard Mr. Anderson is also here for the concert today. They say the two brothers are at odds, I wonder if it's true?"
Inside the grand theater, gold light ran rampant, the lighting at the center stage pouring down like gilding, high-end places still filled with gossiping insignificant people.
The back rows were all planned seating, with Charles Anderson in a wheelchair, there was no way to sit, so since Rosie pushed him in, she planned to take care of him well. She saw the front row had a setup for sweets and tea, and directly headed for the front row.
Along the way, filthy words kept coming to her ears, growing irritated after listening to them. Her temperament is unruly, least fond of people who gossip, and when she heard someone whispering, she turned her head to look, making them embarrassed to speak loudly.
"Rosie, don't stare at others, it's impolite." Just like as if he had eyes at the back of his head, Charles Anderson actually started advising her. Most of the words were about him, yet he stated it was impolite for her to glare at those people?
The girl smiled brightly, pushing the wheelchair to the front row table, she slowly sat beside him, speaking in a voice only audible between the two of them, "Politeness is only meant for polite people."
Charles lightly raised the edge of his eyes, speaking casually, "Did you not eat enough? There are desserts on the table."
"I'm not eating. I'm afraid someone might find me embarrassing."
The man had a gleam in the depths of his dark eyes, took a handkerchief from his chest, and handed it to her, "You don't find me embarrassing because of the wheelchair, how can I dislike you?"
Rosie puzzled for a moment at the handkerchief he handed over, "Why are you giving me a handkerchief?"
"In case you have nothing to wipe your mouth with."
"Then if I dirty it, you'll..." won't you have to change clothes again?
Charles chuckled lightly, "It's just a handkerchief....."
Before he finished speaking, a deep male voice came from behind, "Quite a surprise, Charles. Coming to listen to a concert with such inconvenience, wouldn't it be better to stay home."
"Father has been thinking about you for ages. You keep saying it's inconvenient and refused to move around, yet now you're coming to see a concert even in a wheelchair. If father found out, it'd be unjustifiable."
A man with slicked-back hair entered his view, having a similar face shape to Charles but sharing no resemblance in their features. With a pair of hooded eyes, a humped nose, and moderate lips, he had a more masculine look compared to Charles' handsome appearance.
"Brother, long time no see."
Rosie, hearing Charles addressing him, realized that this was the future brother doomed to go to jail. Judging by his arrogant behavior right now, no wonder he ended up that way.
Serves him right!