After Andrea left the river, instead of heading straight home, she decided to take a detour through Vegas City, eventually arriving at the impoverished district where she had grown up alongside Valentine Anderson.
Parking her car at the school gate of the high school she once attended, a wave of emotions washed over her as she gazed at the familiar surroundings. Memories flooded back, particularly of the day they had received their results and exited the school gates together with Valentine and his sister Benita, along with other kids from their neighborhood.
"Sister Andrea, your grades are always better than mine, but I'll work harder to narrow the gap. I don't want to be too far behind my future wife," Valentine had declared, showing his determination even back then.
Andrea blushed and lowered her head shyly at his words. They had been just children when Valentine had confessed his feelings and his desire to marry her.
Sitting in her car, Andrea reminisced with a smile playing on her lips, but her expression darkened as she realized that Valentine Anderson was missing, and she had no idea of his whereabouts.
After a few moments of contemplation, Andrea started her car and drove off, navigating the streets until she reached a narrow alley. Bringing her car to a stop, she peered down the alley, memories flooding back once more.
She recalled a time during high school when she and Valentine had been ambushed by the school bully and his cronies in that very alley.
"You dare embarrass me like that? You'll regret it," the bully had threatened, incensed by Andrea's rejection in front of their peers.
Valentine had bravely stepped forward, shielding Andrea from harm. Despite being severely beaten and hospitalized, he had valiantly protected her, urging her to flee and seek help.
Tears welled up in Andrea's eyes as she remembered this harrowing incident. She bowed her head and quietly wept, her heart heavy with the weight of the past.
Collecting herself with a deep breath, Andrea started her car and drove to her company. The premises were mostly deserted, save for a few security guards and some staff working late.
As Andrea arrived at the company, the chief security officer approached her car to greet her: "Ma'am Andrea."
Acknowledging him with a nod, Andrea proceeded to her exclusive elevator and ascended to her office atop the building.
Having reviewed all the files on her desk, she leaned back in her chair, stretched, and then rose from her seat. A glance at the wall clock informed her it was already 11 PM. She left her office and made her way to the parking lot where her car awaited.
Pausing abruptly, Andrea noticed Jack leaning against his car. Upon seeing her, a smile spread across his face, and he began to approach her.
"Andrea," he greeted her warmly.
Her expression quickly turned into a frown. "We are not on familiar terms, Mr. Jack. Please address me formally to avoid any misunderstandings," she replied with a tone of displeasure.
Jack stood, taken aback, recalling how Andrea had been flirtatious with him at previous events. Misinterpreting her standoffish demeanor as playing hard to get, a sly smile crossed his lips.
"Andrea, if we're not familiar, perhaps we should change that. Let's go on a date; I know the perfect place," Jack suggested with a wink, implying more than just conversation.
Andrea's expression grew icy. "Mr. Jack, return to your wife and treat her with the respect she deserves. Rose may not be perfect, but she loves you deeply, and it's unfair to treat her as you do," Andrea chided, her tone firm.
Jack's face fell at her rejection. He had followed her all evening, hoping for a date or perhaps more, and her rebuff fueled his anger.
As Andrea reached for her car door, Jack stepped forward and grabbed her arm. With swift precision, Andrea turned and delivered a sharp slap to his face, warning, "Take your filthy hands off me."
Stunned, Jack's expression turned menacing as he raised his hand in retaliation. However, Andrea's fierce words halted him: "If you dare hit me, I'll ensure the Smith family loses everything they own."
Jack's raised hand froze, his anger palpable, yet he knew better than to strike Andrea; her influence was far-reaching.
Andrea entered her car and drove off, leaving Jack behind to simmer in his fury. He was the type she despised—men who were emboldened by mistreating women.
As her car disappeared into the night, Jack punched the wall in a fit of rage, seething with the indignity of the encounter. "You'll regret slapping me, Andrea," he vowed, although powerless to act on his threat.