Clothes were scattered messily across the floor.
It was dead quiet in the night.
The luxury mattress didn’t make a sound, no matter how much it moved.
Only... soft sounds filled the presidential suite.
And they went on through the night.
---
Seems like the city’s planning department figured the rich folks in this part of Yanjing would never take a bus anyway.
So there weren’t many bus routes around.
Claire Evans’ dress was practically hanging off her. The zipper on the side had been yanked completely off at some point. With no other option, she ended up wearing that man’s dress shirt from last night.
Every step made her waist and legs ache. She could barely stay upright.
Jerk.
Claire clenched her jaw and gently massaged her lower back.
Seriously, what kind of rotten luck was this? Just for a minor role in a show, she got tricked into drinking with some investors. And to top it off, got drugged.
It was almost laughable—her own mom and half-sister came up with that trashy plan just to push her at some dude.
Thankfully, she was quick-witted enough to run, even though she ended up barging into some random guy’s room.
Some beast.
Yeah, beast summed him up pretty well.
Guy probably hadn’t touched a woman in 800 years.
Still, pretty impressive she actually managed to sneak out of that hotel at all.
Claire was gritting her teeth so hard she could crack a walnut. Honestly, forget acting—she should switch to training for the 100-meter dash.
No one else in this industry was having it as rough as her.
Strong Claire, she tilted her head at a 45-degree angle to stare at the sky.
“No tears, tears are precious,” she mumbled.
The bus still hadn’t shown. Her legs were seriously toast.
Pulling out her almost-dead, ancient phone, Claire decided to treat herself and order a ride.
Once in the taxi, she leaned back heavily, finally feeling a teensy bit better.
For once, traffic in Yanjing wasn’t jammed. The driver was humming some tune, clearly in a good mood.
Claire was a bit of a sleepyhead. Barely slept last night and woke up super early.
She yawned, already drowsing off in the backseat.
Just two or three kilometers away from her cramped apartment, her phone started ringing.
It was early, but the woman's voice on the other end was sharp and businesslike, like she was reading the morning news headlines.
"Up. Time for medicine and breakfast."
It was her agent and best friend, Fiona Brooks.
Yup, Claire was technically a celeb.
But with no work at the moment.
And almost completely broke.
There was no way she could tell Fiona about what happened last night.
A big reason her career had nosedived was because Fiona always tried to keep her away from the darker parts of this messy industry.
So, naturally, Fiona would never drag her into shady networking scenes like that.
This time, she had stupidly trusted her own mother. The fact she had to use the word "trust" with her mom? What a joke.
If Fiona found out about last night?
She’d totally lose it. Would probably go bash those investors’ heads in, one by one.
And afterwards? Come after that bastard from the hotel and finish him off too.
Then both of them would be tossed into the ocean by some angry rich guy.
Claire had now reached the point that just hearing the name “Dr. Lan” didn’t trigger a thing in her.
Stretching lazily, she replied, "Got it, my dearest Fiona. Just… can I at least sleep a bit first before we talk business?"
"Claire, it’s already six in the morning."
"And who the hell wakes up at six, huh?!"Claire let out a long sigh, still half-playing the drama. "I’m dying to sleep. Just give me five more minutes, please, Fiona."
Despite having the cutest name, Fiona Brooks was a 5'9 powerhouse of a woman—dead serious and always dressed in her signature black leather pencil skirt, the walking definition of a corporate boss lady.
Yet somehow, she always lost the battle when Claire pulled the whole "please good Fiona" routine.
Fiona couldn’t do anything with her and said sternly, "Claire, take your meds properly and follow the doctor’s orders, okay?"
Claire brushed it off while pouting a little, already zoning out. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."
When the car pulled up at the apartment complex, Claire paid the 76 yuan and got off.
She stared at the “Payment Successful” screen and felt like her heart skipped a beat—out of pain.
Man, if she’d just snatched that guy’s belt on her way out of the hotel, she’d totally be even.
She recognized the brand right away. Chloe Evans had gifted Julian Wood the same belt for his birthday—it was like ten grand.
The thought flickered through her mind a moment but was quickly dismissed.
Forget it. That guy clearly wasn’t strapped for cash, but if he came looking for her over a missing belt, that’s a hassle she did not need.
Better to just avoid the drama altogether.
Her run-down apartment had no elevator.
By the time Claire dragged herself up the stairs, her legs gave out more than once. She almost faceplanted.
In her head, she cursed that man seven different ways.
When she finally stumbled into her tiny one-bedroom rental, she was practically drenched in sweat.
As soon as she locked the door, Claire collapsed onto the beanbag chair in the corner.
She stripped off the dress she was still wearing and tossed the dress shirt aside.
She would’ve stomped on it out of spite, seriously, but she was just too worn out.
While changing into pajamas, something struck her as weird.
She paused, thought about it, and realized—even though that jerk was rough last night, he was actually kinda... careful?
He must’ve cleaned her up before she passed out, maybe even bathed her.
Despite her aching body, she did feel fresh.
Claire decided to skip showering again. Fiona's voice popped into her head, so she poured herself a pill from the bottle on the table and swallowed it with cold water.
She tapped out quick replies to a few unread messages, then plugged in her nearly dead phone.
By the time she finished all that, she had zero energy left.
She crawled into her bed in the corner, hugged her plushie tight, and knocked out in seconds.
…
Music in the bar was blaring—like, shake-your-skull loud.
The minute Ethan stepped in, his whole body tensed up, the sound basically grabbing his nerves and yanking them to full alert.
He kinda thrived in this chaos, though.
The thumping beat always managed to beat out all the stress and weariness from work.
From across the room, he spotted that familiar figure—even in casual black, the guy gave off serious "do not approach" vibes.
Wasn’t even hard to find him. Dude had that kind of presence.
Even dressed in dark colors in this dimly lit place, the guy’s aura screamed expensive and untouchable.
Ethan didn’t even have to look too closely. Everyone around was staring at that guy like he was a rare gem.
In his head, Ethan scoffed. “Classic. Pretty on the outside, devil on the inside.”
He swagged over with long strides and dropped into the seat beside him.
Ethan may seem like your typical party guy, but he kept strict rules for himself.
Yeah, he loved clubbing, but he never touched alcohol.
Drinking made his hands shake—major problem when you’re holding a scalpel.
He’d barely poured himself a glass of Coke when he could tell—Alexander Knight was in a real foul mood tonight.
