Chapter 206 Changing their lives
_Rowena’s POV_
The landlady turned her head toward me, her eyes scanning my plain, blood stained jacket with pure disgust. She lowered her hand from the sick man’s shoulder, but her ugly, mean expression didn’t fade for a second.
"And who the hell are you?" the lady sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you here to pay his rent? Because if you aren’t, you can get out of my building right now along with this useless old man and his daughter."
I stepped fully into the small room, setting the bags of hot food down on a rickety table. Olivia wrapped her thin arms around the coughing old man to shield him from the woman.
"He owes me three hundred dollars for the past three weeks!" the lady barked, pointing a dirty fingernail at Olivia’s father. "Three hundred dollars! If I don’t get my cash today, all their trash is going out onto the street!"
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and peeled off five crisp hundred-dollar bills. I didn’t hand the money to her respectfully; instead, I tossed the bills straight at her face. The paper fluttered down through the air, hitting her chest before falling onto the floor.
"There is five hundred dollars," I said, my voice ice cold. "Keep the change and get out of my sight before I decide to take it back."
The landlady’s eyes widened in greed. She quickly dropped to her knees, scrambling across the floor to scoop up the money as if her life depended on it. Once she verified the bills were real, she stood up, brushing the dust off her skirt with a fake, greasy smile on her face.
"Well, well," she hummed, slipping the cash into her pocket. "Looks like the old hag actually has a rich benefactor. But listen here, girl. This five hundred only covers up to this week. If you want them to stay in this apartment next month, you’re going to need—"
"They won’t be staying in your filthy, moldy rat hole for another hour," I cut her off smoothly, pulling out my mobile phone. "In fact, I am buying them a proper house today."
The lady let out a loud, mocking laugh, leaning against the doorframe. "Buy them a house? In this economy? You think a girl riding public transport can afford a real house in the mid district? Keep dreaming, sweetheart!"
I ignored her completely and dialed a high end real estate agency I had used in the past. The agent picked up on the second ring.
"Good afternoon, Marchioness Ashthorne," the agent said politely over the speaker. "How can I help you today?"
"I need a fully furnished, single-story bungalow in the mid-district near the central hospital," I said clearly, keeping my voice loud enough for the lady to hear every single word. "It needs to have a ground floor bedroom, clean heating, and a small garden. I am paying in full via direct transfer right now."
"We have a perfect property that matches your exact description on Maple Street, Miss Ashthorne," the agent replied instantly. "The total price is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"Send the transfer link and digital contract to my phone," I instructed.
A second later, a notification popped up on my screen. I tapped the screen three times, authorizing the immediate transfer of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars straight from my private account.
A loud DING! rang out from my phone speaker as the agent spoke again, his voice filled with deep gratitude. "Payment received in full, Miss Ashthorne! The digital keys have been activated, and the house is officially registered under the name you provided. The place is clean, stocked, and ready for immediate move-in."
I lowered my phone and looked at the lady. Her face had gone completely pale, her mouth hanging open so wide it looked like her jaw was about to fall off. She stared at me in absolute, horrifying shock, realizing that the plain girl she had just insulted was casually dropping hundreds of thousands of dollars without blinking an eye.
Olivia was trembling beside the bed, her hands pressed against her mouth as fresh, silent tears streamed down her cheeks. "Miss Rowena... this... this is too much! We can never repay you for this!"
"You don’t need to repay me," I told her softly, offering her a faint genuine smile. "Your father needs a clean environment to heal his lungs, and you deserve a safe home."
I helped Olivia pack her father’s few personal belongings into a single bag. Then, I called a private medical transport van to pick up her father and transfer him directly to the new, comfortable bungalow on Maple Street.
Once her father was safely settled into his new home with a private nurse I hired for the week, I turned to look at Olivia. Her clothes were severely torn, stained with dirt from the market brawl, and far too thin for the cold afternoon breeze.
"Come on," I said, opening the front door. "We are going to buy you some proper clothes."
We walked out to the main road and hailed a local taxi cab. Olivia looked terrified to even sit on the clean leather seats of the car, sitting right on the very edge as the driver took us toward the largest luxury shopping mall in the city center.
When we stepped into the mall, Olivia looked around in total awe.
People dressed in designer outfits walked past us, giving Olivia’s patched dress a few judgey looks, but I held my head high and guided her straight into the finest clothing store on the main floor.
For the next hour, I had the store attendants bring out dozens of sweaters, elegant dresses, sturdy boots, and comfortable coats for Olivia. She tried to refuse every item, blushing fiercely at the high price tags, but I simply ignored her protests and bought the entire rack, handing my black card to the cashier.
By the time we stepped out of the boutique, Olivia was wearing a beautiful beige coat and clean leather boots, looking like a completely different person. She held two large shopping bags in her hands, a bright, happy smile lighting up her young face.
"Thank you so much, Miss Rowena," Olivia whispered, her eyes shining with deep gratitude. "I feel like I am living in a wonderful dream."
"You deserve to be happy, Olivia," I said gently, patting her shoulder.
Right as we turned the corner toward the mall exit, a tall, middle-aged woman stepped out of a private jeweler’s shop directly in front of us. She was wearing an expensive dress, carrying herself arrogantly.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
It was Mrs. Logan, Brielle’s mother.