I Became His Sweetheart

Chapter 300 Sabyrean Butterflies “Don't worry, all of you. I'll upload these photos online once I’ve tidied them up.” Mr. Smith promised. “You should upload them online,” Melanie encouraged.

She looked at Nelson, who had gone all silent, and said, “We're not targeting anyone here, but this rare extreme weather that happens only once in 30 years is a reminder for us to wake up from our stupor. Safety issues in such extreme sports must be addressed thoroughly,”

Just then most of the bikers with minor injuries walked out. They were on their way to another larger hospital for further recuperation and rest. The bikers who were more severely injured were also pushed out in preparation to be transferred to another hospital facility for more professional treatment.

The terrible states that the bikers were in made everyone present fall silent.

John saw that all hopes of smearing Jones Enterprise’s reputation were lost, and seized the chance to flee in a hurry with his men, for fear that the reporters might recall what he said and bug him over it.

The reporters aimed their cameras at the injured bikers. “Do you have anything to say regarding the incident?” “We will pursue this matter to the end! We won't just forget about this incident!” some bikers said, agitated.

“Yes! Two legendary extreme bikers had their legs amputated. They have no hopes of being in the sport for the rest of their lives! Let's not talk about losing the ability to pursue their passion for extreme sports!”

*Please calm down, everyone. We have engaged our lawyers, who will contact you in time to come. We'll provide you with adequate financial compensation!” Nelson's assistant was still trying his best to salvage the

company’s image.

Melanie stepped forward, and said clearly, “Many bikers’ livelihoods depend on the award money they win from professional races. Their entire family depends on the money they earn from their hard work. Financial

compensation is minimal, and what the bikers deserve!Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“As for the bikers themselves, financial compensation isn’t the only thing they need. Be they legendary extreme bikers or ordinary biking hobbyists, they want the honor and recognition ”

“| suggest for the organizer to distribute medals of completion to all bikers who didn’t have the chance to complete the race, which was suspended midway.” Melanie said, speaking up on behalf of the bikers.

Enthusiastic applause broke out amongst the surrounding bikers, some of them with tears welling up in their eyes.

Thousands of netizens were tuning in to live—stream reports of the accident that occurred during the mountain bike race. The internet was filled with comments berating Nelson for what he did. R

eporters onsite surrounded him, bombarding him with so many questions he wished he could dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Melanie left with Mr. Smith, both of them entering Jones Enterprise’s vehicle. A male colleague handed them two cups of piping hot coffee, which Mr. Smith thanked him for.

+15 BONUS

“Melanie. | forgot to tell you that the series of photos of the genie and knight of fragrance won top prize at the international competition. Thank you for the inspiration you gave me,” Mr. Smith said with a twinkle in his eye as he sicced on the hot coffee.

“You did it based on your own merit.” Melanie said with a helpless smile.

Mr. Smith gave her a half-smile, still immersed in the tragedy of the people he shot with his camera. He kept scrolling through the photos. “Till stay up the entire night to tidy up the photos and upload them online.”

“in order to stop the media from taking things out of context, I’ll arrange for a public relations company to contact you and make sure your photos are accompanied by the most accurate facts,” Melanie suggested.

“Alright, I'll go with your suggestion.”

Mr. Smith went on, with a furrow of his brows. “What should | name this series of photos? | can’t think of a good name, no matter how hard | try.”

“How about “Sabyrean Butterflies? Melanie said. A suggestion sprung forth as she looked through the photos.

“Butterflies in Sabyre have to endure extreme weather conditions, yet they continue to soar through the harshest of winters and remain beautiful throughout. Wonderful! Simply amazing!”

Mr. Smith was greatly pleased, his eyes lighting up.

“You've given me such brilliant inspiration once again! I'll name it Sabyrean Butterflies! New life will dawn upon us after the pain is washed away!”

The comer of Melanie’s lips arched into a smile, as though she had something in mind.

The bus dropped Mr. Smith off at his hotel before sending everyone else back to the office.

Melanie arrived at her office. She made two calls, looking worried.

The first call was to Elder Gibson.

“Master, could you do me a favor when you are available?”

“Speak,” Elder Gibson said irritably.

“Have you read the news about the tragedy at Mount Coloss yesterday? | personally witnessed the worst ever weather condition over the past 30 years, and saw how helpless yet strong the bikers remained. The huge conflict and contrast gave me new inspiration, and | want to concoct a fragrance.”

“You really have nothing better to do!” Elder Gibson scolded her on the phone. “The thing is, have you eaten yet? He had the remote control in hand as he watched an interview on the television, which took place over an hour a30.

The sight of Melanie all covered in mud made his heart ache, yet the first thing she had on her mind upon her return was to concoct a fragrance? She was truly worthy of being his disciple!