At the International Finance Center, Phoebe and Cindy attended Hermès’s tea soiree, an exclusive event for Kedora’s high society ladies. The two sat in the back, watching the elegant sales associates present the latest collections. Cindy leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Phoebe, have you been feeling off lately?”

Phoebe examined the new arrivals with a keen eye, jotting down the ones that caught her fancy in her little notebook. As she scribbled, she asked without looking up, “What’s up? Something wrong?”

“You used to be such a workaholic, Phoebe,” Cindy remarked. “I would go months without even catching a glimpse of you. Trying to grab lunch was like setting up a presidential meeting.” Indeed, Phoebe’s life had been a whirlwind of busyness.

But her preoccupations weren’t solely with her career.

For a long while after losing her baby, Theodore held onto a grudge concerning the cause of the miscarriage. Anything remotely related to Edward triggered him, and his outbursts were not contained by time or place. During that dark period, Theodore’s harsh treatments instilled a deep-seated fear in her. She sought solace in eluding him, yet couldn’t afford to hide given their intertwined lives.

Later, Phoebe took to staying close, almost shadowing him in the hope that her presence would temper his fits of rage. However, it became painfully clear that Theodore was a capricious tyrant by nature. One moment he could be all smiles, and the next, for the most insignificant reason, he’d pin her down in the most bizarre places and have his way with her.

“I’m on vacation right now,” she explained, as her mind returned to the present.

Cindy cocked her head, a hint of worry in her voice as she asked, “A break for the busy bee, huh? But aren’t you the head honcho over at QUEEN Entertainment? Didn’t your company just hit a rough PR patch? Can you really afford to take it easy?”

“Whether I can afford it or not isn’t my problem,” Phoebe replied with a frown. “Can we not rain on my parade? I’m trying to enjoy my few days of peace here.”

Raising her hands in surrender, Cindy backed off, “Okay, okay, my bad. Let’s just enjoy the show.”

Phoebe’s lips curled into a subtle smile as she continued to browse the exhibit.

After a short while, a commotion arose near the entrance, where a gaggle of high-society young women gossiped and blushed, their gazes fixated on the doorway as if a Hollywood heartthrob had just sauntered in. Curiosity piqued, Phoebe looked over.

And there he was, a tall, dashing figure cutting through the crowd, his presence lighting up the room. He ignored the admiring and inquisitive glances thrown his way, his penetrating dark gaze swiftly finding its target. He strode directly towards her.

Their eyes met for a brief second, and Phoebe knew he was coming for her. Just as she rose to flee, a warm, firm grip caught her wrist.

“Where are you going?”

Gossip-hungry eyes skated over them, but Phoebe had no desire to be the center of attention. She turned to head outside, saying, “Let’s talk out there.”

Theodore, who never indulged in airing dirty laundry in public, followed suit, especially since Phoebe had lately grown more defiant. A public spat was a stage neither could afford to fall from. Once outside, the August sun beat down mercilessly, adding to the discomfort from the hot and dry air.

Taking shelter in the shadow of a wall, Phoebe faced the impeccably dressed man. He donned a sharp suit, the epitome of formal business attire, exuding an air of refined, controlled elegance. “What are you doing here?”

Theodore was much more at ease in her presence, leaning casually against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets-a picture of languid contentment. “Enjoy swiping the card these past few days?”

His words were teasing, his tone not accusatory, but oddly affectionate.

Phoebe, stone-faced, let her gaze drift to the bustling street beyond and retorted, “Worried about less than a million dollars, Mr. Reynolds?”

Theodore watched her feisty little act and chuckled deeply, “Not at all. Spend away; I’m not one to fret over money.”

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