"Brooks Bank just called. The interview has been pushed to next Thursday at 3 p.m." Editor-in-chief Ethan Turner called her into the office, eyes still glued to the computer, "But you'd better change the topic. Submit a new outline to me as soon as possible."

"Oh."

Ethan Turner heard Susan Clark's lifeless voice and raised an eyebrow. "This is all pretty common, you know. You've had a smooth ride so far, all because you're good-looking. Do you realize how many reporters make ten calls—five are always in meetings, three are always brushing you off, and the other two are never available for interviews? If you get upset over this, what will you do in the future?"

"I'm not upset. In fact, I should thank Ian Shaw." Susan Clark replied in a flat tone. "Otherwise, how would I have found out my boyfriend—oh, ex-boyfriend—was cheating?"

"What? He's your ex now?"

Ethan Turner seemed shocked, but by the last word, her tone lifted, her face animated, practically spelling out "that's hilarious" across her features.

Susan Clark: "..."

"Oh dear." Ethan Turner, trying not to seem too gleeful, covered her mouth. "Should I not be this happy?"

Susan Clark didn't have the energy to put on any expression, only replied blandly, "It's fine, you just laughed your crow's feet out."

Ethan Turner's face changed instantly. She turned coldly back to the computer, pressing her fingertip to the corner of her eye. "I've told you before, your boyfriend wasn't good enough. With your qualities, why settle for someone like that?"

"So what kind of boyfriend should I have?" The scene from last night flashed through Susan Clark's mind, and she muttered to herself, "Maybe someone with a Rolls-Royce."

"Why not?" Ethan Turner stood up and shoved a file into her arms. "You have brains, looks, a respectable job, and a limitless future. Why wouldn't you deserve that?"

This "limitless future" was actually a plan Ethan Turner had mapped out for Susan Clark a long time ago.

She had poached Susan Clark from the newspaper, intending to make her the signature face of "Finance Weekly."

Susan Clark graduated from one of the top finance universities in the country, majoring in journalism. She had professional training, solid skills, and could handle the tough life of a Times reporter.

Most importantly, Ethan Turner thought she was exceptionally beautiful.

Even in a serious industry, beauty is a particularly eye-catching asset.

If you play the "education" and "ability" cards along with it, that's a winning hand.

So she figured that once Susan Clark published a few high-profile pieces, with a push from "Finance Weekly," the two would complement each other, making her a star reporter in the field. Then, moving through the financial world would be a breeze, bringing even greater benefits to the magazine.

"Oh." Susan Clark couldn't be bothered to discuss this further, lowering her head to look at the file in her hands. "What's this?"

"There's a financial summit this afternoon. If you don't drop dead, go follow up on some leads."

Ethan Turner waved her off, signaling she could leave. "And don't forget next week's interview with Brooks Bank. Prepare well."

That's the benefit of having a boss with no patience for drama—Susan Clark didn't even have time to be sentimental. She touched up her makeup in the restroom and hurried out of the office.

The summit was held at Jiangcheng's new financial center, located in a remote area along the Fourth Ring Road. It had just been completed last year, and the surroundings were still under development. Other than cars, there were hardly any pedestrians on the road.

But this place wasn't unfamiliar to Susan Clark. First, she often came here for interviews. Second, it was where Samuel Grant worked.

In the past, if she had time, she'd come here to wait for Samuel Grant to get off work. Then they'd go out for dinner and a movie, and stop by her favorite dessert shop for some cupcakes.

So now, after the summit, Susan Clark unconsciously turned into that dessert shop.

By the time she realized it, the shop assistant was already greeting her warmly.

Susan Clark picked out the egg tart she always bought. The two red grapes on the yellow cheese looked just like Samuel Grant's infuriating face.

The shop assistant stood by, watching as Susan Clark stared at the egg tart with the expression of someone facing their mortal enemy.

"Miss, um..." the assistant said cautiously, "It's afternoon now—buy one egg tart, get one free."

As soon as she finished speaking, the door chimed with a welcome, and the assistant hurried off to greet the new customers.

Susan Clark was still glaring at the egg tart when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

She spun around, caught off guard, and locked eyes with Samuel Grant.

Samuel Grant froze, standing at the door, unsure whether to come in or not.

After a moment, he turned his face away and pulled the woman beside him, saying, "Let's come back and buy it tomorrow."

Only then did Susan Clark notice the woman he was holding hands with—it was the same one she'd seen at the hospital last night.

Not even bothering to put on a show?

Last night he broke up with her, and today they're out flaunting their relationship hand in hand?

"No way." Lucy Quinn, though she saw Susan Clark, had no intention of leaving. "I'm used to this place. I feel off if I don't eat here for a day."

She walked over to Susan Clark, turned sideways, picked up a whole box of egg tarts, and shot Susan Clark a sidelong glance as she withdrew her hand.