Chapter 45

"I've never met her," Wendy shook her head and replied. That was the truth. "Mr. Marlowe's last girlfriend was very mysterious, and they broke up under unpleasant circumstances." "Doesn't that mean he's still thinking about her?" Yulia was great at making conversation. Winnie set down her fork, her face expressionless. "Are you done eating?" Yulia asked. "This is the last time you'll have lasagna. From now on, you're cutting out sugar and carbs." Winnie paused for a second, then picked up her fork again, eating her favorite lasagna as though bearing the weight of some unseen burden. Wendy smiled but didn't answer Yulia's intrusive question. "Hey, what about Mr. Marlowe?" Yulia cupped her hands around her mouth, speaking slowly and quietly, then quickly added, "Would he keep a mistress? A female star? Or even a guy?" After the quick clarification, she sat up straight, her hands flat on the table, eagerly waiting. Wendy was breaking down inside. Why was she sitting here, discussing her super-puritanical cousin's private life with others? Wendy cleared her throat, "I don't think so." But to her surprise, Winnie let out a cold scoff, almost mocking. "You can't truly know someone, can you? Especially not a love-struck little girl who thinks she can see through a man's facade," Winnie said, swallowing a crispy bite of lasagna. "Don't blindly worship someone just because he's rich. Men are all the same. No man is a good person. The more gentle, humble, introverted, and serious a man seems, the more likely he is pretending. How do you know he won't? He just won't let you know, and he'll sit back comfortably, playing the game like a fair deal—'you do your part, I do mine'—as if it's only natural to owe him something in return." The two of them sat there, mouths slightly open, eyes blank. Winnie took a deep breath, slammed her fork down, and said, "I'm not targeting him. I don't even know him. What I mean is, rich men are all trash." Wendy rubbed her forehead. Winnie leaned in, seriously advising, "Don't put rich men on a pedestal, got it? If you don't listen to me, you'll regret it soon enough." Yulia nodded slowly, "Yes." The next moment, Winnie's phone buzzed. She glanced sideways at it. It was a private message—an unread text. "It's gotta be Ruby," she said, unlocking the screen. "She's the only one who dares to disturb me while I'm working." She froze, then went silent, her heart skipping a beat. A thin layer of red slowly spread across her porcelain-like face. The man she had just lambasted had addressed her as "Winnie." "Thud." Winnie flipped the phone over, hiding the screen. Yulia looked at her face, confused. "Are you allergic to something?" Winnie covered her face with both hands. "No, it's just, uh, a fan—one of those obsessed ones." Yulia's face went pale. "Quick, delete it, get rid of that dirty thing!" Winnie stood up, grabbed her phone, and her voice dropped unexpectedly low. "I... I'm going to the restroom." No, wait. She tossed the phone to Yulia. "Turn it off. Don't look at it." Yulia, of course, obeyed, holding down the power button to bring up the shutdown option, swiped right, and the screen went black. As Winnie walked away, Wendy took a sip of water and asked with concern, "Does she often get harassed by fans like that?" "Not really," Yulia replied. "The last time it happened was with Mr. Marlowe." "Cough, cough, cough!" Wendy nearly choked on her water. She shouldn't have taken a drink. Yulia looked at her with a worried expression. "Wendy, do you have some kind of temporomandibular joint disorder or something?" "No, I don't," Wendy raised her hand, signaling for the topic to be dropped, before asking seriously, "You mean 'Mr. Marlowe'—is that Van Marlowe?" "Yeah," Yulia nodded. "Last time, I thought he was an obsessed fan and yelled at him. He just laughed. He thought it was a rescue text from Winnie, so he showed up with a bunch of bodyguards to save her." "Actually, you can't blame him. His younger brother, Stephan, was kidnapped by a nanny when he was little, so he's always been on edge about stuff like that," Wendy explained kindly, but secretly wondered if her cousin might end up assassinating her. After waiting for a while, they went upstairs and found Winnie, who had said she was going to the bathroom, running vigorously on the treadmill. It was a crisp autumn day, and she was sweating heavily. She ran 5 miles before slowing down to a walk. Sweat trickled down her face, and she wiped it off, panting heavily. That should be enough. After a shower, she retrieved her phone from Yulia. Her body, worn out after pushing to the limit, felt exhausted, her heart beating slower than that of an eighty-year-old, no longer harboring any unnecessary fantasies about Van. She wasn't going to get caught up in the chaos just because of a short, meaningless "Winnie." The phone powered on, and she returned to SnapChat. Van had only sent that one message. As expected, he remained unshaken, effortless, even when approaching a woman—just a casual "Winnie" to start the conversation, no business, no emotions, always in control, in both action and timing. She didn't want to be at a disadvantage. She didn't want to keep being casually manipulated by him. With firm resolve, she dialed his number. It took Van three seconds to decide to pick up. "Hello." He didn't say "Winnie," which meant there were others around him. Winnie kept her breathing steady. "Sorry, Mr. Marlowe. I was on a lunch break. How can I help?" Her tone was much colder now, and Van could tell. The previous hint of allure, that delicate balance of reverence, was gone. Her voice was now brisk, a bit businesslike. The woman on the other end waited in silence while he finished his call. Van should've just hung up, but he answered instead. It was already a bit rude, especially with a woman he was meeting for the first time. Van could only say briefly, "It's nothing important. I was going to ask for your autograph, but I'll wait until you're free some other time." Winnie recognized his cold, professional tone. She paused for a moment, then responded, "Okay, bye." The rest of the afternoon passed. Later, Winnie learned from Wendy's Instagram that he had been on a blind date.