Chapter 115

She tossed the laptop aside and turned to Winnie. "I've been looking for a field I enjoy, and artist management and film production are very appealing to me. Would you give me a chance? We could collaborate, with an investment split of 8 to 7. I'll put in 10 million, and the remaining shares will be split 50/50. We can start fresh together." The actions of young people are inevitably deeply influenced by the figures they admire. Winnie squinted slightly and looked at Wendy, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity rising in her heart. Thinking back to her time in Anne's studio, Wendy had always been confident, speaking in a calm and composed manner, as though victory was certain. When she suggested Anne choose Viktor, she had been just as unruffled, never showing any sign of hesitation. Winnie spoke softly, "Since you want to collaborate with me, you need to tell me your true identity first." "My surname is Lee," Wendy answered simply. Winnie silently nodded to herself, confirming that Wendy was indeed a woman with deep connections. From the brief introduction, Winnie could guess the full extent of her background. Winnie said casually, "Your mother is Gary Marlowe's sister , and Van Marlowe is your cousin." Wendy immediately wanted to defend herself, eager to speak up. "Van said—" "So, you're able to know so much about Van, like when he goes on blind dates, which girlfriends he's had, what his personality and temper are like, even being able to recognize his perfume scent. You became my agent, and when my haute couture went wrong, you became his informant, which is why he took me to Europe. And by the way, have you been monitoring other things as well?" Winnie's tone remained calm, but her presence was powerful, her words cutting sharply, like an invisible blade. "I became your agent because you invited me, and I was moved. Although I did ask for some of his opinions, at that time, he had no other intentions," Wendy explained firmly. Winnie chuckled softly, "No other intentions? You actually believe him?" Wendy was momentarily stunned, at a loss for words. "Van is truly an upright person with strict family values, you—" "Strict family values?" Winnie sneered, "Then what do you call the things he did in the car with that female celebrity?" Wendy was silent, unable to respond. Winnie, calm and composed, lightly tapped her finger on Wendy's shoulder. "Your cousin may look polished on the outside, but on the inside, he's not that perfect; he's even worse than an animal. He speaks sweetly, but his heart is venomous. Tell me, do you think he asked you to be my agent for no reason? His intentions are deep, every step calculated." At this moment, Van lazily buttoned up his coat, a cigarette in his hand. Listening to Winnie's string of criticisms, he couldn't help but smile, then suddenly started clapping. The atmosphere in the room instantly froze as the three women exchanged confused glances. Wendy, trying to keep her composure, spoke hesitantly, "The gate wasn't closed..." Van stepped toward the door. His figure in a black shirt and trousers caught their eyes, his demeanor still laid-back, with a smile lingering in his eyes. "Wendy has more than one cousin. I'm not sure which one Miss Loxley is referring to." A faint haze of smoke lingered in the room, blending with the small hint of freesia fragrance that had been in the air. Winnie was half-reclining in a bright green imported velvet chair, holding a soft cushion in her lap. Her left elbow rested on the armrest as her fingertips absently chewed on her nails. She deliberately kept her gaze away from Van. She was upset, so angry that she couldn't even be bothered to speak properly. In the end, she coldly tossed out a sentence: "The one who plays with female celebrities." She didn't try to hide her displeasure in front of the two outsiders, showing just how fiery her temper was at that moment. Van understood instantly and calmly instructed, "Wendy, take Yulia out." Yulia, still secretly observing the tension between the two, her thoughts complicated, was suddenly tugged by Wendy's arm and quietly urged, "Hurry up!" The bedroom door was a white, classical French double door, with glass faintly reflecting their figures. Wendy led Yulia out and carefully closed the door behind them with a soft click, locking it. This was Van's first time stepping into Winnie's bedroom. On the gray Roman Holiday-style bed lay a pure white lace-trimmed bedspread. Beneath the window stood a green velvet chaise longue, with a black pillow embroidered with intricate golden tiger stripes, lifelike and vivid. The bedroom wasn't large, but the arrangement of space was clear at a glance. Yet, through every piece of furniture, Van could sense her unique taste. The sky outside was overcast, and the Venetian blinds were drawn, allowing only a faint sliver of light to filter in. A gentle breeze from the air conditioner moved through the room, causing the blinds to sway softly, while the scattered beams of light danced lightly across the floor. Van hadn't even set down his coat when Winnie could no longer sit still. She stood up from the armchair and walked over to Van, but he suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist. "I didn't say you could leave." Winnie snorted coldly. "This is my bedroom. I can open the door and ask you to leave." Lately, she had been calling him "you" more often, and the formal "Mr. Marlowe" had become rare. Van looked down at her, his gaze seemingly lost in thought. She was wearing a spring yellow-green camisole, like the soft yellow feathers of spring, warm and fresh. He studied her for a moment before suddenly extinguishing his cigarette, shrugging off his coat, and lifting her in his arms. "What are you doing?" Winnie, her toes catching on her mules, felt a flicker of panic in her eyes. "Comforting you," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.