When she heard the words "two years," Jasmine Warren froze, and her emotions calmed down.

This was a matter of lifelong happiness. She had to think it through carefully.

’My innocence is gone, so marrying Avery is impossible now. But to be kept by this hateful Plastic Surgery Man for two years? I’d rather die! But... that’s two hundred million!!!’

’So conflicted! So, so conflicted!’

’Two hundred million... Just how many millions is that...?’

It was as if she could see banknotes floating down from the sky...

At this moment, she seemed to finally understand why Mika Summers had insisted on secretly marrying Tristan Grayson all those years ago. In the face of this much money, who could possibly resist the temptation?

Seeing Jasmine Warren’s conflicted expression, a smile touched the corners of Jason Lockwood’s lips as he gazed at her, his eyes darkening slightly.

In the end, Jasmine Warren couldn’t resist the temptation of the money and nodded in agreement.

"Fine, I agree. Two years it is. It’s not like it’ll cost me a pound of flesh, anyway."

’Besides, being kept by this Plastic Surgery Man... it seems, maybe, just possibly... isn’t such a bad deal...’

"But wait," she blurted out. "Plastic Surgery Man, you don’t have a wife, do you? I-I-I take back what I just said. I would rather die than be a mistress." ’Yikes, I was too impulsive. What if his actual wife finds out and strips me naked in the middle of the street?’

Hearing her words, the man’s expression grew darker and darker. "I’ve never been married. How could I have a wife?"

"Huh? You’ve never been married?"

"What? Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no, that’s fine! Perfectly fine! In that case, I agree to let you keep me." ’It’s two hundred million. Only an idiot would refuse.’

Jason Lockwood was fuming. "In that case, you’d better serve me well from now on. Otherwise, I’ll deduct from your payment!"

"You’d deduct my pay? Damn, Plastic Surgery Man, you’re way too cheap!"

"It’s the rule."

Jasmine Warren clenched her fists, wishing she could punch this bastard to death. ’What a stupid rule...’

After leaving the Jazz Dynasty Group, Eleanor Bishop walked aimlessly down the street.

Her mind was filled with Jason Lockwood’s words.

’Eleanor Bishop, don’t you get it? If it weren’t for me, you would’ve been hounded to death two years ago. Besides, it’s not like there’s no way to save the Bishop Family. Don’t you still have Archie Lockwood? Considering you were once his woman, and you’re the mother of his daughter, he surely wouldn’t just leave you to die.’

’Archie Lockwood? The man I loved wasn’t named Archie Lockwood. His name was Archie Summers.’

’The man I loved, no matter how angry he got, would always forgive me in the end for our daughter’s sake.’

’But the Archie Lockwood of today... he won’t.’

’And I won’t go to him again. I certainly won’t use Rory as an excuse...’

At the intersection, the traffic light was red.

Archie Lockwood sat in the back seat, flipping through a document.

Just then, Louise Jordan suddenly spoke up. "Boss, that woman... she looks like Miss Bishop, doesn’t she?"

At the sound of her voice, Archie Lockwood looked up from his document. His cold eyes swept over casually, but the hand holding the file tightened slightly. "That’s the direction of Jazz Dynasty," he said, his tone icy.

"Yes."

"Howard Rhodes, drive." ’He had told her so many times not to go to Jason Lockwood for help, but she never listened. Why should he get involved?’

"But the light is—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Archie Lockwood barked, "I told you to drive. Go!"

"Yes, sir."