Meanwhile, inside Daniel's office, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Henry shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from him, the silence gnawing at his nerves. Daniel hadn't said a word in minutes, his gaze locked in one direction, as though the world itself had ceased to exist outside his thoughts.
Occasionally, his posture changed—shoulders rolling, jaw flexing, hand tightening against the armrest—as though sitting still was unbearable.
Is he… in pain? Henry wondered uneasily. Ever since he'd picked his boss up from the mansion, Daniel had seemed… off. Uncomfortable. Distracted. But Henry didn't dare ask. One wrong word, one misplaced question, and Daniel's stare could cut him to pieces.
The silence shattered at last.
"I want you to find out who this Betty girl is. The one my wife is meeting."
Henry blinked, his thoughts stuttering. He must have misheard. "B-Boss… are you saying you want me to stalk your wife?"
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Daniel's head turned, his deadpan gaze slicing into him. The weight of it pressed down like a blade against Henry's throat.
"O-Okay—okay, I get it, Boss," Henry stammered, his hands rising in surrender. He didn't wait for another second, his legs carrying him out of the office at near-run before the storm could break.
Once the door clicked shut, silence reclaimed the room.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, but his mind was anything but calm.
That message.
That girl, Betty.
How did Anna know her?
When Daniel had pursued Kathrine's hand, he'd done his homework. He knew everything about the Bennetts—their finances, their allies, their skeletons. He had sifted through Kathrine's long list of acquaintances and measured every potential threat.
And Anna?
She had none. No friends. No confidantes. She'd been a shadow in her own family, a timid child who rarely left the house, too meek to even raise her voice.
So when had she gained a "friend" outside their circle?
And for what purpose?
Daniel's jaw tightened, suspicion sharpening in his chest.
Anna was hiding something and he wanted find out what.
As Daniel leaned back in his seat, his thoughts betrayed him, dragging him back to last night.
Heat crawled unbidden across his face, his ears burning. A low grunt escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration pounding at his temples.
"How could you lose control, Daniel?" he muttered under his breath, scolding himself.
If it hadn't been for Anna's sudden knee to his groin—he grimaced at the memory—he might have claimed her then and there.
The thought alone made his jaw clench.
"Argh… Anna Bennett, what the hell are you doing to me?" His voice came rough, like gravel grinding in his throat.
He slammed the thought away with a growl, snatching a file from the desk and forcing his eyes over the neat rows of text.
Work. Focus. Control.
Anything but her.
Yet even as he pretended to concentrate, the ghost of her lips and the fire of her defiance lingered, refusing to release him.
***
It took Anna nearly thirty minutes to reach the café Betty had mentioned in her text.
"Big Sis, over here!"
Anna turned at the sound of the cheerful voice. Betty came running toward her, balancing two tall glasses of Coke, condensation dripping down the sides.
"Here, you must be thirsty." She pressed one glass into Anna's hand before sipping eagerly from her own.
Anna accepted it with a small smile, taking a cautious sip. "Thanks."
They started walking side by side, weaving through the late afternoon crowd.
"So," Anna asked, glancing at Betty, "how far is this house?"
Betty's eyes flickered toward the street ahead, her expression shifting ever so slightly. "Not far. Just a little walk from here."
The reason Betty had chosen the café, Anna realized, wasn't just convenience. She always stopped here after class to pick up takeout. But there was something else too—
The real reason was waiting down the street.
The person Anna was supposed to meet.
Finally, after weaving through the last narrow alley, they stopped in front of a three-story house. The building looked worn, its walls streaked with rust and the paint peeling like old skin.
Anna hesitated, frowning at the sight. This is the place?
But Betty didn't pause. She bounded up the creaky staircase with the ease of someone who had done it many times before. Anna followed more cautiously, trailing her until they reached the third floor.
Betty stopped in front of a plain wooden door, its handle slightly tarnished. Clearing her throat, she raised her fist and gave a polite knock.
For a moment, silence reigned. Anna's pulse quickened, though she told herself to trust Betty.
Then the door creaked open.
A man appeared—tall, thin, with messy hair falling into his glasses. His wrinkled shirt looked like it hadn't been ironed in weeks, and his overall appearance screamed of someone too absorbed in books—or secrets—to care about clothes.
He blinked at Betty with sleepy eyes, stifling a yawn. "Betty? What are you doing here?"
"Senior Shawn," Betty's tone softened instantly, her voice lilting in a way Anna hadn't heard before. Her ears even tinged pink as she smiled sweetly at him.
Anna's brows arched in amusement. 'Oh, so that's how it is.'
The man's gaze shifted past Betty, landing squarely on Anna. His eyes sharpened behind the glasses. "And… who's this?"
Before Anna could speak, Betty hurriedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and placed a hand protectively on Anna's shoulder.
"Senior Shawn," she said brightly, "didn't I tell you yesterday about my Big Sis? She's the one I mentioned. She's here to give you work."
Shawn gave Anna a brief once-over before stepping aside. "Come in."
…
The moment Anna entered, her nose twitched. The place smelled faintly of instant noodles and stale coffee. Her eyes swept the room—a mountain of unwashed clothes slumped across the bed, a kettle screeched impatiently from the kitchen, and the table was drowning beneath empty snack packets and crumpled notes.
This is who Betty trusts? Anna thought skeptically.
"Have a seat," Shawn said casually, as though the room weren't a disaster zone.
Betty, unfazed, quickly cleared a spot on the couch, brushing aside a pile of books and a forgotten hoodie. Anna lowered herself onto the seat with hesitation. The couch groaned, its worn-out springs squealing in protest.
Shawn dropped into the chair opposite them, folding his arms as his sharp eyes settled on Anna.
"So, you're Anna?"
"Yes," she replied, meeting his gaze evenly.
A silence stretched between them. Shawn didn't look away—his glasses reflected the dim light as his eyes moved deliberately, studying her. The way she sat, the neatness of her clothes, even the faint perfume clinging to her—everything about her screamed refined.
Not a struggling student like Betty. Not someone who belonged in this crumbling apartment.
There was an aura of wealth and something else… a guarded sharpness, like she was hiding a story too big for her frame.
Shawn's lips quirked as if amused by his own conclusions.
"As you know, I'm a very busy man," Shawn began, his tone laced with self-importance.
Anna's lips twitched despite herself. Busy? He looks like he hasn't bathed in three days.
"…but since Betty spoke for you, I decided to spare some of my time." He leaned back, arms crossed. "However… how can I trust you?"
Anna couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound edged with sarcasm. "That's funny. Because I was just about to ask you the same thing. How am I supposed to trust you with my work?"
Her eyes pierced through his casual façade, sharp and unflinching.
Betty quickly shifted in her seat, sensing sparks beginning to fly. "Senior Shawn, hehe, don't be like that. Big Sis is reliable—I promise. She's about to become a big actress!" she chimed, trying to ease the tension.
But Shawn didn't move, his gaze locked firmly on Anna.
"I don't think your senior trusts me, Betty," Anna said smoothly, shifting her attention to the younger girl. "He probably thinks I'm here to trick him."
Her lips curved into a sly smile before she turned back to Shawn. "But what if I told you I could guarantee you enough money to renovate this…" she gestured around at the cluttered room, "…shabby house of yours?"
Shawn blinked, his lips twitching. The words struck like bait dangled before a starving fish. Renovations… a new start… the possibility tugged at something inside him.
But his voice stayed even, skeptical. "And how exactly am I supposed to trust you?"
He had spent years locked away in this messy solitude, burying himself in tech projects that rarely earned enough to survive, let alone thrive. The idea of hitting a jackpot now almost felt too good to believe.
Anna leaned forward, her tone deliberate. "How about this—I'll transfer thirty percent upfront as a guarantee for your work. Will that earn your trust?"
Betty's eyes flew wide and she shook her head furiously at Anna, silently pleading for her to stop. But Anna ignored her.
She could see it—the hesitation in Shawn's eyes, the desperate pull of a man whose life was just as unkempt as his room.
And she knew this: if she wanted him to help her, money wasn't just an incentive. It was leverage.