Chapter 348: Do You Have the Money?
Barbara's Resentment
Barbara once held very high expectations for Luke, believing he was the one person she was destined to be with for life. But the damn bastard, after having his way with her, hadn't called once in months—
Not even once!
Absolutely zero!
Coupled with the increasing volume of tabloid news about him, Barbara gradually realized she was likely just one of his many insignificant female partners.
This infuriated her, but she was powerless to do anything. Gradually, as time passed, the expectation in her heart faded. She even took off the ring he had given her and threw it into a storage box.
She was only eighteen, in the prime of her youth. There was no need to waste emotion on a scumbag who didn't care about her; it wasn't worth it.
Upon arriving at the police station, Barbara casually greeted the officers in various departments. As a relative of the Police Commissioner, she was very popular there.
"Hey, Hank, where is he?"
Hank, who was processing documents, pointed toward the stairs and made a shushing gesture. Barbara nodded knowingly, tiptoeing up the stairs and crouching like a mouse by the Commissioner's office door.
There seemed to be an argument going on inside, occasionally punctuated by the sound of a hand slamming on the desk and her father's furious roar. Listening closer, Barbara's expression changed.
Luke Shaw!
One hundred suits of Tesla powered armor!
No wonder she had run into him on the street corner; he was here for this incident.
Just then, footsteps approached. The girl quickly darted to the side. The office door opened, and a stern-faced Jacob Isaacs and Musang Quinn strode out, not even bothering to close the door behind them.
Barbara walked into the office, deep in thought, and asked curiously,
"Dad, what's the secret about those hundred suits of powered armor?"
"Barbara, were you eavesdropping again?"
Jim Gordon was livid. "How many times have I told you not to come to the police station? This is a police station, not a library!"
The girl scoffed, highly displeased. She plunked down on the sofa, put on her headphones, and swung her crossed leg back and forth.
Jim had absolutely no control over his daughter.
"Why aren't you in school? What are you doing here?"
Barbara examined him seriously, then shrugged helplessly. "Just a friendly reminder: Today is April 27th. A year has passed since last year's April 27th."
"Damn it!"
Jim smacked his forehead. "I completely forgot our wedding anniversary."
Barbara sighed. "Sarah is suffering from postpartum depression. If you don't want her to smash your head with a vase, you'd better plan something thoughtful. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Jim slumped in his chair. The combined stress from life and work made the nearly fifty-year-old Commissioner feel endless exhaustion. Barbara snuck up to her father and whispered,
"How about I help you investigate?"
"Don't interfere. This has nothing to do with you."
"I can't control the robbery, but I can help you get the performance data for those hundred suits of powered armor."
Jim glanced at his daughter, frowning. "How?"
"Have you forgotten? Luke Shaw!"
Jim instantly exploded, his hair practically standing on end like an old farmer guarding his vegetable patch from wild pigs. "You're still in contact with that playboy? How many times have I told you to stay away from him? He's no good."
"Absolutely not. I forbid it! Go straight back to school. If you skip class again, I won't forgive you!"
"Today is Saturday, Dad. No school."
Barbara stomped her foot in frustration and stormed out of the police station.
Since becoming Commissioner, her father had become increasingly unreasonable. Not only did he stop coming home every day, but he was also micromanaging her life, forbidding this and that—like a tyrant, an arrogant dictator.
"You won't let me investigate, so I'm going to investigate anyway!"
Barbara furiously pulled out her phone and dialed the number Luke had left.
"Hello, Luke Shaw, I'm inviting you to lunch."
"What? You're busy!"
"No! You have to come. I'll be waiting for you at the cafe at 32 Shelke Street."
Without waiting for a reply, Barbara hung up. Remembering the sweet words Luke had once spoken, she cursed angrily,
"That damn scumbag! He said he'd climb mountains and cross fire for me, and now he won't even see my face!"
"Luke Shaw, you truly are a bastard."
The Negotiation
At the cafe, Barbara sat in the corner, staring intently at the door. An hour had passed since she called, and the person hadn't appeared yet. Is he going to stand me up?
"Miss, are you waiting for someone?"
A somewhat familiar voice came from behind. Barbara impatiently waved him away. "I have business to handle. I don't have time to flirt with strangers."
Luke, dressed in athletic wear, took off his hat and glasses, revealing a completely unfamiliar face. "What? You don't even recognize me?"
The girl was stunned. She examined the face carefully, finally noticing a subtle familiarity in the details.
"It's you! Luke Shaw!"
"You... how did you change your appearance like that?"
Luke shrugged. "You said you didn't want to be the female lead in tomorrow's entertainment news. To avoid trouble, I had to dress up."
The girl was incredulous.
"That face... how did you do that?"
"It's just a little gadget. Nothing major."
Luke sat down. "Tell me, why did you call me? To catch up, or to talk about love?"
"Who wants to talk about love with you!"
Barbara scoffed, ordered a coffee from the waitress, and lowered her voice. "I need your help with something."
"Go ahead."
The girl glanced around. "I heard that Tesla's cargo was robbed."
Luke looked at her oddly. "Why do you ask?"
"The hundred suits of armor stolen by the thugs aren't the standard ones circulating on the market, are they? They're custom-made for the White House, right?"
Luke was exasperated. "Miss Gordon, you're a college freshman in the prime of your youth. You should focus your energy on your studies and dating, not trying to be a private detective."
"Why do you sound just like my dad?"
The girl was very dissatisfied. "I didn't come here to listen to you lecture me. I just want to know what functions those hundred suits of armor have, and what their combat power is."
Luke shook his head, his expression serious. "Regarding the armor's performance, I signed a very strict non-disclosure agreement with the White House. I can't tell you."
"Just tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone else."
Luke laughed. "Barbara, don't play these little games. It won't work." Changing his tone, he said softly while the girl's expression darkened, "However, if someone were to place an order with me for a similar type of armor with slightly lower performance, that would no longer fall under the agreement."
Barbara's eyes lit up. She quickly pointed at herself.
"I... I... I want to order it!"
Luke burst out laughing.
"How much do you think one set of that armor costs?" He extended his index finger.
"One and a half million dollars!"
"My dear Miss Gordon, do you have the money?"
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