Hearing the words "boyfriend," the man sized up Susan Clark. When their eyes met, he realized she wasn't just making an excuse, so he turned and left without another word.

Next, another young man approached her with the same invitation.

She knew this one too, but Susan Clark was aware he was just a typical rich kid playing around.

It seemed tonight was not a proper financial cocktail party.

After using the "boyfriend" excuse to send that man away as well, Susan Clark moved to stand by the wall.

She was already upset that Ian Shaw had stood her up tonight, and after running into these situations one after another, a nameless anger was burning in her chest.

Her figure standing in the cold wind happened to catch the eye of Henry Quinn as he exited the banquet hall.

Henry Quinn felt a pang of sympathy and turned to Ian Shaw, saying, "Isn't that Susan Clark? The poor girl waited for you all night for nothing. There are too many people here, so it's not convenient for me. Find a chance to give her a ride, will you?"

Ian Shaw glanced over. The woman's cashmere scarf was wrapped several times around her neck, covering her chin, making her face look no bigger than a palm.

Under the glaring cold lights, her complexion was a bit pale, and the tip of her nose was red from the cold, but her delicate features couldn't be hidden—almond-shaped eyes, red lips, bright and charming, like a finely crafted porcelain doll. Standing there, she looked a bit pitiful.

——

When Susan Clark looked up from her phone, a black Bentley slowly pulled up in front of her.

At the same time, footsteps sounded behind her.

Susan Clark turned around and met the gaze of a man walking toward her.

His eyes lingered for a moment, the crystal chandelier above casting a cold light on his gold-rimmed glasses, which swayed slightly with the anti-slip chain at his cheek.

"Reporter Zheng?" He stopped, the curve of his arm outlined by his suit giving off a sense of distance. "Shall I give you a ride?"

Susan Clark had never seen this man before.

But she couldn't help thinking, since when did all these rich kids become so casual?

"No, thank you."

Behind the lenses, his eyes caught the bright light, the corners tilting up—a look that should have been flippant, yet carried an undeniable sense of pressure.

So, in the biting cold wind, Susan Clark met his gaze and added, "My boyfriend is coming to pick me up soon."

She emphasized every word of "boyfriend," the subtext being: I have a boyfriend.

"……"

The corner of Ian Shaw's mouth curled into a barely noticeable, icy arc. He slipped one hand into his pocket and walked away.

The valet opened the car door. He got in, and the Bentley sped off.

Chapter Two

The car's taillights blurred into hazy halos in the rain, gradually disappearing from sight.

Susan Clark let out a cold snort and turned her chin away.

The rain had stopped, but everyone had already left the banquet hall.

The valet and doorman were checking the facilities around, while the cleaning staff traced streaks of water on the floor with their mops. Gusts of cold wind blew by, sweeping a few dead leaves to Susan Clark's feet.

She tightened her scarf again. On this desolate night, she couldn't decide whether to be angry at the Ian Shaw she had never met, or at Samuel Grant.

Finally, when the clock struck midnight, a familiar car slowly pulled up to the entrance. Samuel Grant got out in the rain.

Before he could say anything, Susan Clark ran over through the rain, threw herself into his arms, and clung to his arm, acting spoiled.

"I'm about to freeze to death!"

Samuel Grant coaxed her into the car, fastened her seatbelt, then turned to ruffle her hair. "Sorry, the rain was so heavy I couldn't see the curb and took a wrong turn. I had to drive a big circle to get here."

Hearing Samuel Grant's gentle voice, Susan Clark's grievances quickly vanished, replaced by a wave of guilt. She said softly, "I was just complaining. How was your day? Did you have fun?"

Samuel Grant gripped the steering wheel and let out a long sigh. "How could I be happy when my girlfriend didn't spend it with me?"

"I'm sorry." Susan Clark twisted around, smiling at him. "So who celebrated your birthday with you today?"

Samuel Grant opened his mouth to answer, but Susan Clark jumped in, "Was it Frank Hughes?"

"Yeah."

Frank Hughes was Samuel Grant's college roommate. The two had kept in touch after graduation and were very close.

"He's getting more and more flamboyant," Susan Clark said.

"Hmm?" Samuel Grant glanced at her. "Why do you say that?"

"I used to think he was a total straight guy, but now he even wears cologne." Susan Clark suddenly leaned in close to Samuel Grant's neck and took a deep sniff. "It's a faint, unique scent—good taste. Next time, ask him what cologne it is for me. I think it would suit me too."

"Okay." Samuel Grant nodded lightly, then changed the subject. "How was your interview today?"

In front of her boyfriend, Susan Clark didn't bother to put on a front anymore and said irritably, "What a person, really. The interview was scheduled, and he just bailed. I waited all night for nothing, and he didn't even show his face."