As the call ended, the investigation into Mason barely qualified as a closed file for Hannah. She had witnessed the Wold family's power; a background check was trivial. Why had Oscar been the previous life's final victor? The Wolds' support must have been key. But why Oscar Wells, not Theodore Wold? The families didn't appear allied. This puzzle was a conundrum she set aside for now, confident that time would reveal the answer. After all, Oscar was now her ally; the Wold family's backing was a significant advantage.

She resumed her work, so engrossed she didn't notice the clock. It was already 8:00 when she finally stretched. Jimmy waited respectfully outside her office, silent and uncomplaining.

"Sorry, a newcomer needs time to adjust," she apologized.

"Never mind, Mrs. Wells. I learned quickly thanks to you," Jimmy replied.

"Call me Hannah," she instructed.

"Mr. Wells doesn't permit it."

Hannah sighed, accepting the restriction. Max was forbidden, and so was Jimmy. She breathed deeply, reminding herself that titles were inconsequential.

"Then let's call it a day," she said.

"Yes, Mrs. Wells," he nodded.

Hannah left, followed by Jimmy. The car ride was eerily quiet. Feeling weary, Hannah allowed herself to be captivated by the city's neon glow. In those peaceful moments, she questioned the reality of her experiences, wondering if she might awaken from this strange dream.

Her phone rang, jarring her from her reverie. She recognized the number and answered. "Hi, Susan," she said.

"Guess who I see at the Emperor Club?" Susan whispered mysteriously.

"Manuel?"

"Stop it! That's ridiculous!" Susan exclaimed, offended.

Hannah giggled. "Then who?"

"Oscar," Susan announced.

"Anything wrong?" Hannah asked calmly.

"He's with a woman," Susan added.

"So, anything wrong?" Hannah repeated, maintaining her composure.

She shouldn't be upset, she knew. But he'd promised fidelity. Men were liars; his promise hadn't lasted a day.

"He's your husband, with another woman, and you ask if anything's wrong? Seriously?" Susan's voice rose. She'd expected Hannah to storm in and disrupt the scene.

"We're not the kind of couple you expect," Hannah replied.

"Not as I expected?"

"What he does is none of my concern," Hannah said, weary of explaining.

"So... you're friends with benefits?" Susan concluded.

A beat of silence.

"Bingo! Right?" Susan pressed, eager to pronounce judgment.

Hannah remained speechless, finally saying, "Stop imagining, I'm fine."

"You're fine knowing you're betrayed?"

"Susan, focus on your own life," Hannah changed the subject to end the conversation.

"My life? I'm great! Henry's practically glued to me," Susan declared triumphantly.

"Okay, let's end this," Hannah said, a touch of annoyance creeping in. Susan wouldn't believe anything she said; a wave of helplessness washed over her.

"Fine!" Susan retorted, irritated. "Don't regret it if a pregnant woman shows up to threaten you someday."

"This isn't fiction, it's life," Hannah countered.

"But fiction is always inspired by life," Susan retorted. Susan was a natural debater.

"I have to go," Susan hung up abruptly.

Hannah remained upset, staring at Oscar and the woman. They were too close. Damn it! she cursed silently, retreating to her private room.

This was a paradise of indulgence, everyone lost in revelry. Susan joined in, but as the night wore on, the solitude hit her hard, like the emptiness after a carnival ends. Resting on a sofa, she remembered Hannah's words.

She’d told her friends that she and Henry were in love, but it wasn't a sweet relationship. Henry was an ideal boyfriend on the surface—docile and obedient. But whenever she drew closer, she felt rebuffed; attempts at kisses were avoided; marriage proposals met with endless excuses for postponement.

Susan chuckled ironically. Did he think she was too good for him? Was he not attracted to her? Why confess if he didn't love her?

Lost in thought, Susan drank alone. Alcohol was a good escape from unexpected depression. Glass after glass, she felt a pleasant buzz—a near-intoxication, the perfect state for a wine lover. Exhilarated, she stumbled out.

"Oops!" Susan collided with a man's arms. The familiarity sent a thrill through her; she instinctively placed her hands on his chest. The feel of it excited her.

"What a chest!" she exclaimed playfully.

He remained still, his body hardening.

"And your abs?" Susan asked, her hands moving lower. She reached her goal without looking up.

"My goodness!" she gasped, feeling the contours of his body beneath his clothes.

Manuel's throat tightened. His tense body observed her audacity. He wondered if she'd regret her boldness when sober. He pushed her away, though he couldn't deny the thrill of her touch.

"Oh! My!" Susan complained.

"I'll take you home," Manuel offered.

"No, I'm going to dance," Susan insisted, pulling him along. "Come, come with me..." She didn't realize who she was dragging along in her drunken state.

Meanwhile, Theodore watched from behind, observing their retreating figures. He was certain Manuel would become Susan's prey, sooner or later.