Chapter 279: From the People

“Your skirt is a little short…” Lynch sat on the sofa, holding a fine crystal glass. Some say spirits are best enjoyed in square glasses, while cocktails and mixed drinks suit round ones.

Supposedly, there’s an art to it. Lynch didn’t care—he only vaguely remembered hearing something like that. Whether it was true didn’t matter to him.

Rich people could do anything, and others would come up with a thousand reasons to justify it, claiming they had to do it. That was different from the poor—right was right, wrong was wrong, no room for ambiguity.

Not far from him, the maid was bent over cleaning. She wore a currently fashionable maid outfit, though its design leaned more toward adult style. Her skirt was short—so short that when she bent over, Lynch could see her butt and a small, red pimple on it.

In the Baylor Federation, only the boldest women dared to dress like that. They would meet every gaze with scorn, using their eyes to say, “I know you’re a pervert fantasizing about me.”

But this maid wasn’t one of those women.

Lynch’s comment made her uneasy. She stood up straight, her skirt finally covering her thighs and backside. She turned to look at him, flustered and anxious.

Since the month before last, the community services company had been laying off employees. First went the drivers. Residents no longer insisted on hiring drivers for every outing. Some once had full-time chauffeurs and didn’t mind the expense, but as the economy declined, they cut back.

Driving themselves became rediscovering the joy of driving—a convenient phrase to disguise the financial struggles of the middle and upper classes.

Then came the gardeners and cleaners. Jobs for two or three were now handled by one, saving costs. The overworked didn’t complain—they still had jobs.

Now it was the maids. Some residents had gone bankrupt, and no one was looking to buy their homes soon. Many full-time maids were reduced to hourly staff. Idle maids were piling up.

To cut costs, the company planned to lay off a third of them. If excess staff remained, more cuts would follow until they were satisfied.

Whether a maid stayed or left depended entirely on the resident who employed her. If the resident had no objection, the maid could stay.

One way to secure that approval was to sleep with management—some already had. A few women had slept with two or more execs just to keep their jobs.

Others took a different route—sleeping with their employer.

That was, in some ways, easier for the maids to accept. It at least affirmed their attractiveness.

Encouraged by her colleagues, this maid had decided to make some sacrifices to keep her job. Sadly, even her husband seemed aware of it, yet said nothing.

Now, though, she felt uncertain. She couldn’t read Lynch, and her future—whether she stayed or left—rested entirely on his decision. That made her very nervous.

“You don’t need to seduce me,” Lynch said, tasting the $300 liquor in his glass. The amber liquid glowed gold under the light, reflecting on his face like a saint’s halo.

He looked up from the glass. “Maybe it’s not appropriate to say this, but I won’t change my principles just because I have some improper relationship with a woman. Instead of thinking about undressing in front of me, think about how to make me satisfied with your work. Understand?”

He set the glass down and looked straight at her, running his finger along the underside of the coffee table’s edge.

As his finger moved, the maid stopped breathing.

It was the underside of the table—an area hard to clean, one most people never noticed, yet important.

Lynch had learned that from personal experience. He once had a client with a strange habit of pressing his legs against the table’s edge.

After signing a contract, the two stood to shake hands—and both noticed gray smudges on the man’s trousers, speckled with dust and cobwebs. It had been unpleasant.

The man didn’t exist in this world, but there could always be someone else. Lynch wasn’t a man who thought with his lower half. He simply wanted people to do their jobs well. That was it.

The wiping lasted only a few seconds, but time felt stretched. Every blink from Lynch was in slow motion, every heartbeat thundered in the maid’s ears.

She couldn’t remember if she had cleaned that spot, if it looked as clean as the table’s surface.

After two seconds, Lynch glanced down. His fingertip was perfectly clean.

A warm smile spread across his face. “See? It’s that simple. If you’re responsible with your job, then I’ll be responsible for you.”

“You can tell the manager you’re staying on as my full-time maid.”

The maid was overwhelmed with joy.

Her husband was unemployed. The kids still needed school and extra expenses. If she lost this job, she didn’t know what they’d do.

“I don’t even know how to thank you, Mr. Lynch. What can I do for you?” she asked, full of emotion and gratitude.

Lynch just smiled. “Put on something appropriate. I don’t want visitors thinking I’m that kind of person.”

He didn’t clarify what that kind was, but everyone understood. The maid quickly changed into normal clothes and felt much more at ease.

Two days passed in a flash.

Lynch’s charitable private fund successfully secured a valuable opportunity from the mayor. City Hall even publicly announced the chosen company’s proposal to silence critics and show fairness.

Well, it was almost a joke.

The 4.2 million auction payment was immediately transferred to the charitable fund. According to Lynch’s proposal, 85% would go to mid- and long-term investments, and 15% to support disabled, elderly, or solitary workers eligible for aid.

Because the fund wasn’t a one-time payout, some investment was allowed to ensure lasting benefits—but there was a condition.

No matter how the money was used, 80% had to go directly to the target population. That was the bottom line.

Mark signed off on it without hesitation, representing the fund’s management. He could be very agreeable when there were benefits and minimal risks.

Of the funds, 15% remained in the charity’s accounts. The rest, under the guise of investment, was poured into a new company Lynch had split off. The fund bought a large share and injected capital into it.

All of it was legal and legitimate. Even if someone sued, it wouldn’t matter—the whole process complied with Baylor Federation laws.

Though Lynch had initially overpaid, the money came back in the end. And even if it hadn’t, he’d still be seen as a philanthropist. It was the responsibility he was willing to bear.

Yesterday’s newspaper covered the story: Lynch had spent six times the opening bid to win the auction. The reason? He was fulfilling his social responsibility as a young entrepreneur.

“Mr. Lynch seemed a little shy in front of reporters. With traces of youthful innocence still on his face, it was hard to believe this big kid had done more than anyone else.”

“When asked why, he earnestly replied that he made his fortune thanks to the people, and now it was time to give back. He would do everything he could.”

“Mr. Lynch also shared a deeply philosophical insight: Wealth comes from the people—and in the end, must return to them.”