That night, Owen arrived at the party on time, using the address Benjamin had sent him. Only upon arrival did he realize that the gathering was being held at Benjamin's home—and that it was far from a lavish event. In fact, it was a private get-together, attended by only a few close friends and family members.
Knock knock knock. Owen knocked on the door.
"Hey, man, I was afraid you wouldn't make it…" Benjamin opened the door, smiling, and Owen handed him the bottle of red wine he'd brought. Benjamin accepted it and gave him a hug.
Back when they were both in Los Angeles, they weren't exactly close—just colleagues. But ever since Owen had saved Benjamin's father, the man had been nothing but warm and enthusiastic.
"Look who's here…" Benjamin led Owen inside. Light music played in the background, and a few guests stood or sat, chatting among themselves. Hearing Benjamin's announcement, they all turned toward the door.
"Hello, everybody. I'm Owen…" Owen greeted them, and the guests responded in kind.
"Welcome, Mr. Owen. I'm Joanna, Benjamin's mother." A well-groomed middle-aged woman stepped forward and smiled. Owen politely responded, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Joanna. It's an honor to attend your party."
Joanna, despite her age, was clearly a beautiful woman who had taken good care of herself. Her manners suggested she was well-educated. Owen remembered reading in Benjamin's file that his mother was a senior executive at some company.
"No need to be so formal, Mr. Owen. You're a good friend of my son Benjamin and you saved my husband Jonathan's life. Our whole family is grateful to you."
"You're too kind," Owen replied courteously.
At that moment, the Secretary of State himself—Jonathan Affleck—walked out of the living room with a wide smile. "Welcome, Mr. Owen. This is just a private party. I'll introduce you to a few friends shortly."
Owen nodded, happy to oblige. Benjamin then brought him further inside and introduced him to his two older brothers.
"Try this—it's my own mix." Benjamin handed Owen a cocktail with a bit of pride. The drink looked great. Owen took a sip—it was actually quite good.
Just as the Secretary had said, the party was indeed a private gathering with few attendees. But these guests were clearly not ordinary people. Their demeanor alone spoke volumes—likely high-level government officials, military officers, or industry elites. After all, few could call the Secretary of State a personal friend.
A little while later, another familiar face arrived—George Walker. He was, technically, another one of the Secretary's saviors. Plus, he and Benjamin had known each other for years, both hailing from the same social circle.
"Hey, Owen."
"Hey, Walker. How's the wedding coming along?"
The two exchanged greetings, and Owen asked casually. He had previously agreed to Walker's wish to hold his wedding at the White House—without asking the President. Later, when he brought it up, President Palmer had graciously approved it.
"Forget it. I wanted to do something different at the White House—to give Jennifer a special memory. But neither of our families approved. Even Jennifer's having second thoughts…"
"Why?" asked Benjamin's girlfriend, Paris, who was clearly a pampered daughter from a wealthy family—charming but a little naïve.
"Because of security reasons, of course," Benjamin answered before Walker could. Seeing Paris still confused, he elaborated, "Even though the terrorists inside the White House were all eliminated, the mastermind—the White Masks—got away. Owen and Walker's identities are classified. Their achievements haven't been publicly acknowledged to avoid retaliation. If Walker were to get married at the White House, their cover would be blown, and it could invite revenge from the White Masks or relatives of the terrorists. It's not worth the risk."
"Oh, no wonder the media keeps calling them 'government agents' without naming names or even saying which agency they're from…" Paris nodded in sudden understanding.
Walker chimed in, "Yeah, I didn't think it through. The media's been sniffing around for days—I thought it was good press. But in hindsight, the White House's strategy was right."
He and Jennifer had firsthand experience with just how dangerous those terrorists could be.
"So, I heard you guys knew each other even before all this?" Benjamin's older brother asked curiously.
Owen and Walker exchanged glances, and Owen gestured for Walker to explain. Walker then recounted their previous encounters. Every time they crossed paths, something bad seemed to happen—as if they were cursed. The group listened in wide-eyed amazement. Especially Paris, who suddenly gasped, "Wait, if every time you meet something bad happens… then tonight…"
She stopped mid-sentence and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her adorably startled expression sent everyone into laughter. No one really believed in fate, and even Owen and Walker had stopped buying into it. It was just a running joke now.
The party continued. With so few people, the atmosphere remained relaxed rather than lively. Most of the time was spent chatting and getting acquainted. The Secretary's family members each thanked Owen and Walker personally. These weren't average folks, so confidentiality wasn't an issue. Everyone here knew exactly who Owen and Walker were. Some even knew details of what had happened inside the White House. Those who didn't were highly curious, and Owen shared what he could without dampening the mood. What was off-limits, no one pushed for.
At one point, Jonathan Affleck personally took Owen around the room, introducing him to a handful of important guests—some from the military, others from politics. It was clear he wanted to share his network with Owen as a token of gratitude.
When the party was over, Owen returned to his small apartment in Washington. He unlocked the door and saw a dim light glowing from the bedroom—Monica had already gone to bed. She was a creature of habit and discipline, always keeping a strict schedule.
Owen tiptoed to the bed and gently kissed her on the cheek. She murmured softly in her sleep. Unable to resist, Owen let his hand wander over her perfect figure for a moment before slipping back out to the living room.
The connections he made tonight were significant—but not yet useful. Owen had little to offer those people for now, and they knew it. Tonight was more about planting seeds.
But among Benjamin's younger circle, Owen had gained quite a bit. Most were second-generation elites, and Benjamin's brothers worked in various key government departments. Inevitably, their paths would cross again in the future. Just like Owen and Benjamin had once collaborated, knowing your counterpart personally made everything smoother.
Owen poured himself a glass of whiskey, added some ice, and sipped slowly while closing his eyes in thought. It had been a long day.
There was much to ponder—Omega Team's future, its operational direction, and above all: the White Masks. They were the top priority for investigation, but even a fool could guess that after pulling off such a large-scale operation, the White Masks would surely vanish into the shadows for a while.
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