Downstairs.

Mia Grant walked out of the lobby, paused, and glanced to the side.

He was looking at her, too.

Simon Adler could practically read the profanity in her eyes.

He remained relatively calm, probably because he was used to it by now.

After a long moment, Mia Grant finally seemed to recover from her shock. She sighed and asked, "Is she really... always this baffling?"

"Pretty much." Simon Adler could tell that in just half an hour, she had been through a great deal of mental anguish.

"You’ve had it tough."

He felt she was in need of a spiritual cleansing.

Mia Grant took a deep breath. "This is basically psychological bullying."

For once, Simon Adler was on the same page, agreeing with her.

"When you first picked her, what on earth did you see in her? The fact that she looks a little like you?"

"I thought that since they’d already had contact through work, they’d have a lot of common ground. They’re both workaholics, so I figured they’d get along great... Who knew it would turn out like this."

Mia Grant’s head throbbed.

She waved her hand dismissively and walked toward the parking area. "I’m going home to rest. Go back and tell the old man this counts as a workplace injury."

Simon Adler followed her, smiling. "How about we try again another day? It looked to me like you two really hit it off."

"..." Mia Grant silently rolled her eyes. "I’d say *she* hit it off with *you*."

Upstairs, Carla Sinclair stood silently by the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, looking down at the figures below.

The girl walked ahead while the man followed silently behind her.

They were probably talking about her; the girl kept looking back every few steps.

Looking down from above, the girl’s figure seemed even more petite than before.

They slowly receded into the distance until their figures blurred, looking as fragile as glass.

Carla Sinclair’s eyes showed no emotion. She turned, walked back into the living room, picked up her phone from the sofa, and made a call.

"Uncle, sorry to disturb you. Are you free tomorrow? There’s something I’d like to ask you."

"No, it has nothing to do with Julian Vaughn. Him? I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s probably busy with his art exhibition. Besides, I don’t feel like seeing him lately."

"It really has nothing to do with him. I’m calling mainly to ask about my mother."

"Alright then. See you tomorrow."

—

Mia Grant leaned back in the passenger seat and yawned.

She didn’t want to sleep in the car, so she pulled out her phone and started playing a game to pass the time.

Simon Adler hadn’t brought a driver; he focused on the road, driving attentively.

The car came to a steady stop at a red light. He glanced over at her, and whether out of curiosity or something else, he asked, "So, is Carla Sinclair eliminated in your book?"

"It’s not that she’s eliminated in my book. It’s that she never wanted to enter the competition in the first place."

Mia Grant looked down, focused on her tile-matching game. After a moment, she restarted a level and continued, "From the looks of it, Quinn White is still the most suitable candidate."

"She pursued my brother before, so there’s already some emotional foundation there."

"Is that what she told you?"

"I figured it out myself."

"She claims she used to like him and is only doing this now because of the pressure of an arranged marriage. But from what I can see, that’s not the case."

"How long did she pursue my brother? Do you know?"

Simon Adler thought for a moment. "At least two or three years."

Mia Grant nodded. "My brother rejected her time and time again, yet she persisted for so long. She’ll succeed at whatever she does in the future. The position is hers for the taking."

Her tone was flat, not like she was joking. There was no trace of ridicule.

Simon Adler glanced at her a few more times, then released the brake and drove through the intersection.

The street scenery receded outside the window. He said, "Have you ever thought about what you would do if we couldn’t stop all this in time, and they really got married?"

"What do you mean, ’what would I do’?" Mia Grant glanced at him, confused. "We’ve only ever been brother and sister."

"If he starts a family, I’ll wish him well."

"Did Quinn White say something to you that day? I’ve met her twice. She’s got that rich-girl attitude; she’s no simpler to deal with than Carla Sinclair. Did she give you a hard time?"

Mia Grant propped her chin on one hand, looking at him with a smile in her eyes. "I know what you’re trying to say."

"So what do you think?"

"I’m not thinking about anything."

"I don’t want to waste time getting tangled up in useless thoughts."

"I’ll do what I have to do, and leave the rest to fate."

"You’re the type to just accept things?" Simon Adler glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

’Leave it to fate? Her? Would she really?’

The more he was around her, the more she seemed like a blade of grass sprouting from a crack in a cliffside rock.

Anyone else might leave things to fate, but she never would.

"Believe it or not, that’s up to you."

"But you don’t need to worry. I’m not the type to live or die for a man. I won’t hang myself or self-harm, so you don’t have to be so tense."

"I can even calmly set him up on dates. What else is there that you think I couldn’t handle?"

"..."

Her words hit the nail right on the head, exposing Simon Adler’s thoughts.

"...You’re overthinking things. I’m not worried about you."

Mia Grant gave a nonchalant smile. "Stubborn men never meet a good end."

"If you’re worried, just admit you’re worried. It’s not like I’m going to eat you. What are you afraid of?"

Simon Adler frowned. "So, are you planning to use the same tricks on me that you use to reel them in?"

Mia Grant feigned surprise. "You? Need reeling in? Wouldn’t you come running with just a crook of my finger?"

"..."

Simon Adler was speechless, feeling both humiliated and, for the first time, unable to retort.

Mia Grant’s words were half-serious, half-joking. She sat up straight, her gaze retracting. Her tone was no longer playful, but tinged with a cold indifference. "I’m not going to reel you in."

"You’re not my target."

"And you’re not my type."

"Don’t worry, you’re safe."

"Are you happy now that I’ve said it?"

Simon Adler: "..."

"And you can move on to a new target, too. Don’t get obsessed with me. We’re not going to work out."

"But if you insist on coming closer, then that’s not my problem."

"To be honest, when I was sure you were interested in me, I was actually pretty happy."

"Do you know why?"

"I do." Simon Adler clenched his jaw. "You could use me to get out of this."

Mia Grant snapped her fingers.

"So you see, we’re both perfectly aware of the situation."

"What’s this about reeling anyone in? We’re all about willing participation here."

Simon Adler: "You’re telling me all this... aren’t you afraid I’ll change my mind later and back out? How would you use me then?"

Mia Grant adopted a nonchalant expression and spread her hands. "There are plenty of pawns; I’m not short one. So, don’t try to use this to get a hold over me."

"If worst comes to worst, we’ll just take each other down. My life isn’t worth much, and I’m not particularly attached to it anyway."

"..."

Hearing her say all that, Simon Adler had thought she was being candid, but he never expected her to be *this* candid...

She was even bordering on brazen.

—

Politely ending the meal, Silas Grant had no intention of lingering. "I’ll have my driver take Miss White home."

"It’s still early, isn’t it? Want to go for a drink together?"

Quinn White extended the invitation.

A smile touched Silas Grant’s lips as he elegantly placed his napkin down. "Where would Miss White like to go for a drink? That club you’ve been frequenting recently?"

"..." Quinn White froze for a moment.

The man chuckled softly, his gaze lifting. "You saw her the other day, didn’t you."

"My girl."