"You've got nerve."
Sophia Sullivan didn't know what the young man had learned abroad, but the stubbornness in his bones remained unchanged.
Unlike Ian, who always kept his distance, Ryan Lawrence was the complete opposite.
He burned like wildfire and clung like taffy.
Sophia took a deep breath.
Knowing reasoning was futile, she swiftly changed the subject.
"Continue about Mrs. Sullivan."
Ryan obediently sat on the couch.
He opened his palm, revealing the pendant he hadn't managed to give her.
"The late Mrs. Sullivan's maiden name was Jiang. Her information was buried thoroughly—masterfully concealed."
For once, Ryan shed his usual playful demeanor.
His brows furrowed with focus.
"I followed one lead, only to find countless false trails woven into a web."
The more he spoke, the more suspicious it seemed.
"Every time I thought I was close to the truth, I'd be led astray."
Ryan's frown deepened.
"It was like someone was watching my every move, anticipating my steps."
Suddenly, he looked up at Sophia.
"The technique... it reminds me of you. If you hadn't asked me to investigate, I'd suspect you were behind it."
Sophia fell silent for a moment.
"To hide Mrs. Sullivan's past this thoroughly... it must be someone she trusted deeply."
Her fingers curled unconsciously.
Was it you, Mom?
No matter what, she would uncover the truth.
With the masquerade approaching, Sophia refocused.
"Wear your mask to the ball. Don't draw suspicion."
"Got it." Ryan stood, his fingers twitching slightly.
"Boss... can I call you 'sis' from now on? It'd be more natural in public."
He feigned casualness, but his pulse raced.
The fear of rejection gnawed at him.
"Fine."
Sophia's mind was already elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of her mother.
After Ryan left, Sophia stepped into the hallway.
Voices drifted toward her.
"Some friend you are. First, you fleece me, then you hand over your black card without a second thought."
Julian Roscente's tone was teasing.
"I was going to vet her for you, but the moment you laid eyes on Miss Sullivan, brotherhood went out the window."
He sighed dramatically.
Ethan Sullivan's voice was low.
"Vetting is fine. But you crossed the line with that unauthorized investigation."
His eyes narrowed.
"If Miss Sullivan keeps secrets, she has her reasons. Besides, she's never dug into my past."
Sophia: "..."
Recalling the orders she'd just given, guilt flickered through her.
Never investigated?
She just hadn't found anything yet.
Julian shrugged helplessly.
"Fine. If you trust her, I'll back off."
"It's not about trust. It's respect."
Ethan stubbed out his cigarette.
"Some secrets are scars. You don't tear them open recklessly."
Though they had a bet, he sought truths willingly shared—not wounds to exploit.
Julian smirked. "What, are you in love with her?"
"Just a passing interest." Ethan's words betrayed nothing.
"Respect has nothing to do with affection."
Sophia leaned against the wall, about to leave.
A passing server bowed respectfully.
"Good evening, Miss Sullivan!"
The greeting rang out, dripping with sycophancy.
After her three-million-dollar auction spree, no one dared slight her.
Sophia: "..."
The voice carried down the hall.
Ethan remained impassive, but Julian stiffened.
He coughed awkwardly. "Ah, Miss Sullivan. You're here."
How much had she heard?
Julian scrambled for an exit.
Sophia met his gaze squarely.
"Yes. Eavesdropping."
Julian: "..."
He was speechless.
Who admitted to spying so shamelessly?
Yet her bluntness left him no room to retort.
A faint glimmer of amusement flashed in Ethan's eyes.