In her memory, Soren never bothered to knock. If he needed something, he’d just barge right in. 

Had he changed? Or was it not him at all? 

Evangeline mulled it over, but still called out, “Come in.” 

No sooner had she spoken than Glenn stepped through the doorway, carrying a small bowl steaming with hot broth. “Have some hangover soup. It’ll help you feel better.” 

Evangeline froze for a second, then paused, piecing things together. 

Glenn, as far as she remembered, was always patient and considerate. Thinking back on last night, it made perfect sense that he’d be the one there, quietly handling everything. 

Had she mistaken Glenn for Soren? Which meant that last night… 

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. She couldn’t help but blurt out, “Were you here the whole night?” 

Glenn, reading her thoughts, nodded. “I made a judgment call.” 

He explained that after showing up at the charity gala last night, he’d tried to find her when he couldn’t spot her anywhere. He was about to call the police when someone from the Whitmore family mentioned she might have already returned 

home. 

He hadn’t believed them–he’d thought they were just trying to cover something up–but it turned out to be true. The apartment’s door lock had his fingerprint registered, so he’d had no trouble getting in. 

She’d been in bad shape all night, sick and getting worse as the hours ticked by. He’d had no choice but to stay. 

Noticing her pale expression, Glenn assumed she was still feeling ill. His tone was gentle but firm. “If your stomach still feels off, don’t force yourself. Sometimes you have to get it all out before you’ll feel better.” 

Evangeline nodded absentmindedly. Her stomach churned, but not as much as her mind. 

She rubbed her temples, sipped the soup Glenn handed her, and after a while, started to feel a bit more human. Glenn remained calm and matter–of–fact, which 

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went a long way toward easing her embarrassment. 

He pretended nothing unusual had happened last night, and she gratefully followed his lead. 

After breakfast, Evangeline realized she couldn’t find her phone anywhere. It took a moment before she vaguely remembered Mr. Wellington taking it from her- yesterday. 

She’d planned to report it missing, but before she even had the chance, someone returned her phone. Everything worked fine when she checked it. 

At the same time, she saw the news: Mr. Wellington was reportedly taking a month off due to illness. 

She wasn’t sure if it was true, but chose not to dig any deeper. 

There were no security cameras at the Lockridge charity gala, so she had no real evidence. Even if she went to the police, she doubted anything would come of it. 

Having come to terms with that, Evangeline headed to work, trying to figure out how to contact Finn. 

She didn’t have to try for long–he found her first, and in a way she never expected. 

She was in the big conference room, being grilled by Theo. He didn’t bother hiding his disdain, fixing her with a cold stare. “Director Whitmore, do you remember what you promised before you joined the company? You said you could bring in new investors to replace the Fawkes family. Well? Where are they?” 

Before Evangeline could answer, someone else interjected, “Director Shaw, this is Director Whitmore’s first week on the job. Give her a little time.” 

Theo sneered. “I can give her time, but will the research team be so patient?” 

He jabbed a finger at a stack of reports. “Just this morning, all our small investors threatened to pull out. At this rate, forget about research–we’ll all be out of jobs before long. Will you take responsibility for that?” 

The person who’d spoken up immediately fell silent. 

Evangeline shot her a grateful look, about to respond to Theo, when Lily, the young woman beside her, spoke up. “Director Shaw, even if you’re right, rushing her isn’t going to help. You’re just making her feel worse.” 

Theo scoffed. “Feeling bad now, is she? She sure didn’t look upset when she turned down Fawkes Enterprises‘ money.” 

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Lily jumped back in, “But how could she have known things would turn out like this? Maybe she regrets it now. Please, just give her a little more time–a day at least.” 

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