Susan Clark could clearly tell that this was Ian Shaw's phone call, so she sensibly kept quiet.

But Ian Shaw leisurely took out his phone, glanced at it, then hung up.

Not long after, Stephen Brooks's phone rang again.

Susan Clark couldn't see Ian Shaw's expression when he hung up just now, but she could see the look on Stephen Brooks's face.

After seeing the caller ID, he quickly frowned, then answered.

Before he could say anything, Susan Clark clearly heard a sharp female voice from the phone: "Tell my little uncle to answer the phone!"

Damn! Homewrecker!

Susan Clark's reaction was almost instinctive—a wave of nausea welled up in her stomach, impossible to suppress. She gripped the chain of her shoulder bag tightly, staring intently at Ian Shaw's back with a mix of emotions.

She really wanted to see what kind of attitude Ian Shaw had toward his niece.

Stephen Brooks handed over the phone, but before he could say anything, Ian Shaw, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, spoke up: "Tell her, if she can't behave, then don't show up in front of me."

His tone was calm and even, as if he were just talking about daily meals, but it carried an inexplicable sense of pressure.

Susan Clark: "..."

She curled her lips into a cold smile.

Quite authoritative, huh.

If you're so authoritative, why don't you teach your niece not to be a homewrecker?

Stephen Brooks responded with an "mm" and relayed the message truthfully. The call was then hung up.

The elevator returned to silence.

It wasn't until they reached the parking lot that her mind finally recovered from the forcefulness of Ian Shaw's attitude toward his niece.

This was even better than she had imagined.

A forceful little uncle, one whose word was law—he was perfect for her to use as a shield and throw her weight around.

The door opened, Ian Shaw stepped out, and Susan Clark followed closely behind.

When they reached a car, the driver opened the right-side door for Ian Shaw. It was only then that he seemed to remember someone was following him. He stopped, slowly turned his upper body, and looked down at Susan Clark.

"I have a two-hour drive. We'll talk in the car."

Although he wasn't really asking for her permission, Susan Clark still nodded reservedly. "That's fine."

I'd talk under the car if you wanted!

Ian Shaw didn't respond further. As he turned, he unbuttoned one of his suit buttons and got into the car.

Susan Clark looked at the car in front of her and couldn't help but tug at the corner of her mouth.

Samuel Grant, bet you didn't expect this—I got in this car before you did :P

Although there were four people in the car, it was completely silent.

It seemed that wherever Ian Shaw was, it was especially quiet.

That was Susan Clark's first impression upon getting in—this man was like a walking silencer.

He leaned back in his seat, took off his glasses, and slowly wiped the lenses with a cleaning cloth.

Sensing movement beside him, he glanced to his right. Susan Clark, who had bent down and pressed her skirt as she sat, let her long hair fall like a waterfall, and a faint fragrance was carried to his nose by the breeze.

She was wearing an off-white pencil skirt. When she sat with her legs crossed, the skirt rode up ten centimeters above her knees, revealing a pair of slender, long legs, even fairer than the skirt itself.

Ian Shaw withdrew his gaze and put his glasses back on.

The car slowly pulled out of the parking lot, but the scent seemed to linger at his nose.

Suddenly, Ian Shaw asked, "Are you cold?"

Susan Clark was taken aback and looked up at Ian Shaw.

She hadn't expected him to ask her that.

How thoughtful and attentive.

"Not cold." Susan Clark smiled and shook her head.

Ian Shaw crossed his legs and calmly instructed the driver, "Open the window."

The window rolled down, and a gust of late autumn wind mercilessly whipped across Susan Clark's face, making even breathing sting her nose.

Susan Clark: "..."

Just because I said I'm not cold doesn't mean I'm hot, okay?

Chapter Five

Susan Clark admitted that when she got in the car, she deliberately struck a pose, managed her expression, and even subtly adjusted her legs to look their best.

She didn't know how strong Ian Shaw's prescription was, or whether he could see her inner beauty, so she had to make sure her outer beauty was on full display.

But now, with the window open, the cold wind—almost winter now—was pouring into the car as if it were free.

Susan Clark lost all other thoughts, quietly pulled her legs in, wrapped herself tighter in her coat, took out her voice recorder, cleared her throat, and said, "President Shaw, I'll start the recorder now, okay?"

Ian Shaw leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, lips barely moving. He gave a faint "mm" in response to Susan Clark's words.

He looked like he might fall asleep any second.

Am I really that unappealing?

Susan Clark grumbled inwardly, but obediently said, "I'll record the whole interview, and once the final draft is ready, I'll go over it with you for confirmation."

After she finished, Ian Shaw didn't respond, still keeping his eyes closed and resting.

Susan Clark took out her outline notebook.

"The theme of this interview mainly revolves around the role of the RMB as a pillar currency in Asian monetary cooperation, and the role the RMB plays in East Asia. First, I'd like to ask, in promoting the internationalization of the RMB, as a large commercial bank, what preparations do you think are necessary?"

After Susan Clark finished speaking, Ian Shaw turned his head, chin lowered, and gave Susan Clark a light glance.