He took out that black wallet and placed it in front of her. “There used to be a photo in here. Does Miss Morgan know where it is?”

Of course she knew. Mason Scott lowered her head. “Was there? I didn’t notice.”

“Oh? There’s nothing in the wallet but money, so how did Miss Morgan know it was mine?”

Mason Scott was left speechless. She almost forgot he was a lawyer, adept at finding every loophole in someone’s words. If she wanted to fool him, she’d better weigh her own abilities first.

He leaned forward. “Could Miss Morgan return the photo to me?”

Mason Scott suddenly felt inexplicably baffled. What did he mean? On one hand, he acted like she was a stranger, yet on the other, he was asking for her photo.

“The person in the photo is me. Why should I give it to you?”

“Miss Morgan, I advise you not to discuss issues of property ownership with a lawyer.” Ian Mitchell said coldly.

Mason Scott felt discouraged. She was unfamiliar with this side of Ian Mitchell and didn’t know how to handle it. “The photo isn’t here.”

“Give it to me tomorrow.”

“I have something tomorrow…”

“Miss Morgan!” Ian Mitchell interrupted her. “I think neither of us wants to get too entangled with the other. Why not get it over with quickly?”

Get it over with quickly? Mason Scott was silent for a moment. “Why do you want that photo?”

“Who knows.” Ian Mitchell’s gaze was deep. “Maybe I want to keep it by my side, to constantly remind myself of that foolish past.”

Foolish… Yes, how foolish! She actually still had expectations.

Ian Mitchell made the decision himself. “I’ll come get it tomorrow. If you’re not available, you can have someone else pass it on. Goodbye, Miss Morgan.”

He turned to leave, his hand just reaching the doorknob when he heard Mason Scott’s soft voice behind him: “Wait… I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Ian Mitchell turned back expressionlessly. “Thank you for your cooperation. See you tomorrow.”

Mason Scott stared blankly as his tall figure walked away. She had imagined what it would be like if they met again one day, but she never thought that they wouldn’t even have the sentiment to say “long time no see.”

A foolish past?

Mason Scott stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, examining the woman who stared back at her.

If her short hair grew long and was tied into a ponytail, if her tanned skin became a bit fairer, if she could still laugh brightly without any reservations… Most importantly, if her eyes could lose the heaviness accumulated over these seven years and be filled with unrestrained innocence—then, she would become the Mason Morgan who had just entered university and met Ian Mitchell.

“Ian MitchellIan Mitchell…”

“Ian MitchellIan Mitchell…”

She wasn’t quite sure how she had managed to latch onto Ian Mitchell, and Ian Mitchell was even more baffled. Anyway, back then, she just chased after him. Until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked with a stern face, “Mason Morgan, why do you keep following me?”

If it were her now, she’d probably be so embarrassed she’d want to disappear! But back then, she was shameless, staring at him wide-eyed and asking, “Ian Mitchell, are you the dumb one or am I? Hey, you’re so smart, it must be me. How could I be so hopeless? I’ve been chasing you for so long and you still don’t know what I’m doing!”

She still remembered Ian Mitchell’s stunned expression, speechless for a long time. Later, when he mentioned it, he said with a mix of amusement and exasperation that he’d intended to use a questioning tone to make her feel ashamed, but who would have thought there could be a girl so thick-skinned, turning the tables on him.

So, at that time, the top student in the law department, after finally reacting, could only stammer, “I’m not planning to have a girlfriend in college.”

She was so naïve then that she didn’t even recognize an excuse, and pressed on, “Then I’ll get in line now. When you graduate, can I have priority?”

Faced with such an unorthodox opponent, the best debater, usually so eloquent, was at a loss for words and fled with a hasty “I have class.”

Of course, she didn’t give up. But before she could think of a better plan, she heard a rumor at school: that law student Ian Mitchell supposedly had a girlfriend, someone named Mason Morgan, a name that was quite a mouthful.

As soon as she heard, she rushed to the study room to find Ian Mitchell, hurriedly clarifying, “I didn’t spread the rumor, you have to believe me.”

Ian Mitchell looked up from his book, his gaze clear. “I know.”

She asked foolishly, “How do you know?”

Ian Mitchell answered calmly, “Because I started it.”

This time, it was her turn to be dumbfounded, as he coolly analyzed, “I thought about it. If you’re destined to be my girlfriend in three years, why shouldn’t I exercise my rights early?”

Ha! Those were the days!

The person in the mirror curved her lips slightly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes and quickly faded.

She wandered out to the balcony, gazing at the sparse stars and bright moon. Tomorrow should be a good day.

Chapter Two: Turning Away

The sun was setting, and the sky was filled with colorful clouds.

Ian Mitchell stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in his tenth-floor office, wondering why he was in the mood to admire the sunset.

Maybe, because she had come back.

Beth pushed open the door and saw Lawyer Mitchell standing with his back to her by the window, a cigarette between his fingers, looking lonely… Lonely? Beth almost doubted her own eyes. Could that word really be used to describe the always confident and composed Lawyer Mitchell?

Ian Mitchell heard the door open and turned to ask, “What is it?”

“Oh.” Beth snapped out of her thoughts and quickly said, “Lawyer Mitchell, Vice President Wright from Hongyuan Company is here.”

“Let him in.” Ian Mitchell put away his scattered thoughts and threw himself into work. He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was five o’clock, and she still hadn’t come.

After finally seeing off Vice President Wright, Ian Mitchell leaned back in his chair, exhausted, and closed his eyes to rest. Suddenly, a huge hand slapped down, and Ian Mitchell opened his eyes helplessly. “Old Wilson.”

After graduating from university, he turned down a guaranteed spot in graduate school and came straight to work at what is now called “Wilson Mitchell” Law Firm, formerly “Wilson,” and is now one of the partners. Old Wilson and another partner, Henry Wilson, were both alumni of C University; Henry Wilson graduated a year earlier, while Old Wilson had graduated many years before.

A burly man who looked more like a bandit sat down leisurely across from him, arrogantly crossing his legs. “So, what are you planning to do next?”

Without looking up, Ian Mitchell said, “Work overtime.”

“No way!” Old Wilson cried out. “Today’s the weekend!”

“So what?”

“So what!” Old Wilson repeated, shaking his head. “That really sounds like something the cold-blooded workaholic Ian Mitchell would say.”

Ian Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know you were so good at rhetoric.”

“No, no, no.” Old Wilson wagged his finger. “That’s the consensus among all the women who know Ian Mitchell.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Ian Mitchell, I’ve always wanted to ask you—are you gay or do you have some hidden illness?”

Dealing with such a boring, low-level guy would be crazy. Beth came in with two cups of coffee. Ian Mitchell stopped her and asked, “Has a Miss Morgan come by today?”

Beth thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No.”

Ian Mitchell made a sound to show he understood and said to Beth, “There’s nothing else here. You can go home early.”

Beth shook her head. “I’m not in a hurry. Lawyer Mitchell, when are you leaving? Do you want me to get you something to eat?”

“No, thank you.”

Beth responded with disappointment and left.

Old Wilson clicked his tongue. “Hey, Beth is interested in you. How about an office romance?”

“She’s a decent girl. Don’t talk nonsense.” Ian Mitchell warned him.

Cold as stone! Old Wilson shook his head inwardly. Ian Mitchell had always been polite and courteous to women, but never crossed the line. Over the years, countless women had fallen for the name “Ian Mitchell.”

You couldn’t blame those women for flocking to him. Even from Old Wilson’s male perspective, Ian Mitchell was just too outstanding. Aside from his striking looks, his rising reputation in the legal world and his steadfast, upright image were enough to attract any proud or beautiful woman.

“So, what kind of woman do you actually like? Out of so many women, not a single one has moved you? That beautiful director from the foreign company—she’s got a great figure! That TV host you’ve worked with for so long—didn’t you ever feel a spark? And our smart and capable colleague Thunder Hughes—I ran into her at court today, and she was hinting about you…”

The more Old Wilson talked, the more excited he got, but Ian Mitchell paid him no mind and let him ramble on.

What’s the point of a one-man show? Old Wilson stopped, disappointed, but after a while his eyes lit up. “I know, it must be our little sister Amy Mitchell. At least you show some humanity toward her.”

Amy Mitchell often came to the firm, and Old Wilson was very familiar with her.

“She’s my sister,” Ian Mitchell said irritably.

“Come on, you’re not even related by blood.” Old Wilson acted like he knew the inside story.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

Ian Mitchell’s tone was rather flat, but the finality in it was clear to Old Wilson. He shook his head and said no more, having experienced Ian Mitchell’s stubbornness before.