Shirley Thorne strode off to her appointment, full of bravado. The sluggish Fluffy trailed behind, taking a break every few steps—he was unbelievably lazy.
That part of him was nothing like Ethan Grant.
After all, the billionaire was a notorious workaholic.
Her meeting place with Meredith Rowan wasn't far from the villa, so she didn't take a car. Along the way, many people stared at her. Some even brazenly greeted her and tried to cozy up, acting as if they were old friends.
Shirley Thorne had grown numb to such attention, but for some reason, she suddenly noticed a different kind of gaze in the crowd.
'That person...'
Shirley Thorne feigned a casual glance in their direction.
The woman was tall and fair-skinned, leaning against an orange Rolls-Royce. She had the air of an ice queen.
'Definitely rich!'
Shirley Thorne averted her gaze and subconsciously scratched her head. Something felt off.
