Becoming the Richest Man Alive

Chapter 67



Chapter 67

To Giselle, Casper really was somewhat of an enigma. There was too much mystery surrounding him. Just the other day, he even made one million donations.

Is he from a wealthy family? But why couldn’t he pay his school fees? Why does he eat people’s leftovers in the cafeteria? His actions really don’t match his status if that were true.

Giselle took a look at Casper’s cheap and tacky outfit. It doesn’t make sense.

“Sure! I’d love to. What do you want to talk about, Ms. Clauder? I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Casper would never want to miss a chance like that.

Are we talking about life? Or are we talking about something else? It’s a little too fast, but I don’t mind talking about something else. I like it.

Giselle shook her head gently when she saw how excited Casper was, rolling her eyes at him. He must be thinking of some weird ideas right now. His eyes never left my body the moment he entered the room. You really are a perverted young fellow!

She secretly scolded, not realizing that she actually did not reject the feeling of being stared at by Casper. It was as though he was about to swallow her whole, but she welcomed it, liked it even.

However, she quickly suppressed the little fondness she felt as she thought of Mr. Simpson. He was the man she liked. I wish I knew where he was. I really want to meet him.

“Ahem! I want to thank you for last time. I’ll definitely pay the two hundred thousand back.” She intentionally cleared her throat to grab Casper’s attention before thanking him.

“You already thanked me last time, right? I should be the one thanking you for bailing me out of that. If it weren’t for you, I would have joined some gangs, I reckon. I would have lost my chance to sit face to

face with a beautiful teacher and talk to her,” Casper spoke from the heart.

He was grateful to her for stopping Jack from expelling him, even though he was planning to spend some money to embarrass Jack.

“Aren’t you just making fun of me at this point? You’re rich. You even helped me paid off that two hundred thousand. You didn’t tell anyone, right?”

Giselle rolled her eyes at Casper. She thought about what happened back then and realized how rash she was. Casper already had the money in his bag, but she foolishly stood up for him even though she was in debt.

“How am I making fun of you, Ms. Clauder? I’d have actually forgotten about this if you didn’t bring it up.” Casper wore a straight face.

“Alright then. Don’t tell anyone about it. I don’t want anyone to find out.”

“By the way.” Giselle stared at Casper with her beautiful beady eyes. “I need to know. Where did you get all that money? Are you from a rich family? Does your family own a mine?”

“You’re quite the imaginative one, Ms. Clauder.”

Casper figured it was still too early to reveal his identity to Giselle, so he made something up. “I hit the jackpot and won the lottery back then. That’s why I suddenly had so much money on me. Promise me you’ll keep this between you and me, Ms. Clauder.”

Giselle was stunned for a brief moment before bursting into laughter. It was a little manic, but she looked beautiful nonetheless.

“Do you think I’d believe something like that? The odds of that happening is just too low. But if you don’t feel like telling me, it’s okay.”

Giselle’s focus shifted towards Casper’s injury on his arm. Her brows furrowed as she was displeased. “How did you get hurt? Did you get in a fight outside? This is a knife wound, right?”

“You can think of it as me doing what was right, I think. Yeah. That’s it. I didn’t take any credit, though.” Casper took a look at the scar.

It looked like it had almost fully recovered.

“I believe you,” Giselle spoke after she was certain that Casper was not lying. “But you should be careful. If your parents found out about this, they’d be heartbroken. Now, take off that shirt. I’ll patch it up for you.”

She requested after noticing how frighteningly clean the cut was.

Casper froze for a brief moment after hearing that. “Umm. Is this really okay, Ms. Clauder? I should probably patch it up myself when I get back.”

He did not want to bother her, so he instinctively refused.

“You’re a grown man! Cut that shy guy act and give it to me. Are you trying to say I’m bad at this? Or are you telling me you’re going to throw it away since you’re rich now?” Giselle was having none of it.

“Alright then. I’ll take it off.”

Casper had no choice but to take off his shirt and handed it to Giselle.

Having said that, he was secretly thrilled. Who would have known that my Gigi knows how to sew! I love it! You’re a million times better than Kitty, no, than any woman out there!

When Casper took off his shirt, Giselle’s eyes lit up. His masculine body exuded intense male hormones, freezing Giselle for a brief moment as she quickly snapped out of it and took the shirt to the

washroom.

Grrrr…

All of a sudden, Casper heard Giselle’s stomach rumble. It was a clear indication that she had not eaten. Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

It’s my time to shine I guess.

“Ms. Clauder, I’m a little hungry right now. Do you have any food here?”

He shot up from the couch and headed straight towards the refrigerator. Inside were some eggs and tomatoes.

“There’s some spaghetti in the cabinet, I think. Do whatever you want with it.” Giselle responded after seeing what Casper got from the fridge.

Casper already had dinner before coming back, so the rumbling noise could only have been from Giselle. She was busy during dinner hours, so she did not get to eat. She thought she could cook up some instant noodles later in the night when she could no longer bear with it.

Lo and behold, Casper heard her stomach rumbling but did not expose her. Instead, he used himself as an excuse to cook for her.

He’s definitely an interesting young fellow. It’d be nice if he was Mr. Simpson.

“Wow! You’re surprisingly good at cooking! It tastes even better than what I normally make!” Giselle complimented after tasting Casper’s cooking.

She was drawn there by the aroma after hanging his shirt up to dry.


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