Annie had arrived at the restaurant early. It was still relatively quiet, the ambiance elegant and serene. Perched on the 20th floor, the venue offered a sweeping view of the city skyline—a glittering web of lights stretching into the distance.
Spotting Skylar as she walked in, Annie raised her hand with a graceful gesture. “Please, have a seat, Ms. Sullivan. I’ve already ordered a few dishes. Feel free to add anything else you’d like,” she said with a refined smile and steady tone.
As expected of a television host, Annie carried herself with effortless sophistication. Every move she made was polished, every expression calculated.
“Alright, thanks.” Skylar didn’t bother looking at the menu. She sat down, took a few sips of water, and waited calmly for Annie to get to the point.
The dim lighting at the club the other night hadn’t offered a clear view of Skylar’s face. But now, under the natural daylight, Annie got a better look. Skylar appeared even more youthful than she remembered—fresh-faced, vibrant, like a college freshman just stepping onto campus for the first time.
Annie stirred her coffee slowly, her gaze lingering on Skylar. There was a subtle flicker of displeasure in her eyes. Despite her age and lack of background, Skylar exuded a quiet confidence that couldn’t be ignored.
What exactly was it about her that caught Joe’s attention? Annie wondered.
And then, without another word, she slid a check across the table.
Skylar blinked in mild surprise. She’d expected some version of this conversation—but the actual check, laid out in such dramatic fashion, felt like something straight out of a soap opera.
She glanced down. One million dollars.
“Ms. Sullivan, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you understand what I mean,” Annie said coolly. “As long as you leave Mr. Martin, this check is yours.”
Annie’s voice held a note of pride. She came from a privileged, well-educated background—someone like her saw herself as a natural fit for Joe. In her eyes, Skylar could never be anything more than a passing infatuation… a mistress with no real future.
Skylar remained calm, unshaken. She remembered Viola’s advice: Always keep your composure. Especially when the other person expects you to lose it.
With the same steady tone, Skylar asked, “May I ask… what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Martin?”
After leaving the club that night, Skylar had thought about it more. Joe didn’t seem to have any personal connection to Annie—at least, none that was obvious. But still, she wasn’t sure.
Annie’s expression faltered for just a second before tightening. “That’s none of your concern. I know you’re only with him for his money. So let’s not play games. Take the check, leave Joe, and walk away with some dignity.”
“So… you’re not in a relationship with him?” Skylar pressed, still calm, her voice giving away nothing.
Annie’s tone turned sharp. “I’ve done my homework on you. You’re the estranged daughter of the Williams family. They’ve never supported you, and it’s not likely they ever will. So how else could you afford the lifestyle you’re chasing?”
“That’s why you targeted Joe Martin. But don’t fool yourself—relationships built on appearances never last. They collapse the moment the truth comes to light.”
Skylar didn’t react. Her expression was steady, unreadable. “Impressive. Your investigation was thorough, Ms. Silver.”
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