Chapter 20

The black, silver-topped Maybach drove smoothly. As it passed the small town along the highway, it caused the same stir and attracted stares just like when they arrived. This was a genuine heirloom, passed down since the 1920s and 1930s, not the common Mercedes-Maybach you'd see on the streets. A car worth 13 million was just Van's daily business vehicle. With a body length of over six meters, the car allowed ample space for both the front and back seats when the partition was raised. Eric knew that when Van was in work mode, he was completely focused and didn't like being disturbed, so without waiting for any instructions, he automatically raised the partition. Inside the Bluetooth earpiece, the executives' reports were orderly, and the meeting interface on the tablet displayed the quarterly data. Van listened intently, his gaze focused and clear. As a habit, he reached into his suit pocket and took out a white porcelain cigarette case. The case was thin and smooth, without any fingerprints, cleaner than some people's eyeglasses. The lid was connected with silver metal, and when opened, inside were three cigarettes and a lighter. The cigarettes were custom-made in South America, not something you could buy in stores. They had a faint, pleasant agarwood scent—subtle and refined. Even non-smokers would find the smell soothing. This was Van's daily carry: three cigarettes, never more. At social events, people often offered him cigarettes, but whether he smoked or not was entirely up to his mood. At his level, refusing or accepting was entirely in his hands. As he pulled out the cigarette case, his fingers brushed against something hard. He bit the cigarette, his slightly lowered gaze pausing for a moment. His palm opened, revealing a small, metallic gleaming pocket watch, quietly resting in his hand. In the Bluetooth earpiece, the report had ended, and everyone was waiting for him to ask questions, but at this moment, he was distracted. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the corner of his mouth, which was holding the cigarette, relaxed in a brief, absentminded pause. It was Winnie's pocket watch. He decided to return it to her in person once the crisis was resolved. So, he retrieved it from Eric. And yet, he still forgot. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. Instead of returning it to Eric, he did as Eric had done and slipped the watch into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. When Winnie woke up, the sunlight outside was still bright. She pushed her sleep mask up onto her forehead, and the first thing she did was reach for her phone under the blanket. She cursed inwardly. Just before falling asleep, she had been obsessing over how to text Van and return the shawl, so much so that she had even dreamt about it. The sleep had been exhausting. Yulia poured her a glass of iced water and watched as she unlocked her phone. There was a new message, from "Mr. Marlowe." The silk blanket felt cool against her skin as Winnie lay down, pressing her face into it. After a moment, she finally opened Van's message. It was actually a very ordinary message: Miss Loxley, when do you plan to take back the pocket watch you threw at me last time? But Winnie could almost hear the tone and see the look in his eyes when he said it, like morning fog in a forest—subtle, yet impossible to read. She crossed her legs, one calf over the other, and from Yulia's perspective, she looked like a little girl. Winnie replied: When are you free? Van actually replied quite quickly. Just a few seconds later, he sent: Depends on you. Should she go pick it up in person? Winnie couldn't decide. Did Van want her to pick it up herself? Or was he okay with just sending it over? Another meeting? She hesitated for only a few seconds, but Van had already replied: I can have someone send it to you. Is it the same hotel as before? Ah, so he didn't want to meet again. Winnie's previously tense heart relaxed. In her reply, she remained formal: I'm wrapping up tomorrow and leaving the set. It's best if it's within the next two days. Should I have your shawl sent with the same person? Van responded: As you wish. Winnie sent a rebellious reply: I thought Mr. Marlowe only does things based on his own mood. As expected, Van didn't reply to her. Winnie didn't wait for a response. She tied her hair in a ponytail and went for a run. The treadmill was something she had arranged for the hotel to move into her room. After all, she ran every day, and being a big star, it was inconvenient to go to the gym. She placed her phone on the windowsill next to her while running, so any vibration would be immediately noticeable. But by the time she finished her run and took a shower, her phone still hadn't buzzed.