The room fell silent. Caden pursed his lips. "Did he really say that?"

"When I was with Ciara, I heard him subtly inquire about your love life," Blake explained. "He even mentioned waiting for Yolanda to finish her studies before broaching the subject with you. As relatives of the bride, they wouldn't be overly deferential; it would damage their image."

Caden pondered this silently. Blake continued, unopposed to the idea, "Ciara feels the same way. You and Yolanda can discuss children. If things don't work out, you can separate. Just remember what's most important."

Caden had initially sought a deal with the Moss family, making concessions due to his weaker negotiating position.

"Are you seeing someone?" Blake asked, sensing Caden's hesitation.

"No," Caden replied slowly.

"Then it's okay. No sacrifice for you," Blake stated.

"That's true," Caden agreed indifferently. "Get some rest. I'm going to bed."

After the call, Caden closed his eyes, tapping the couch armrest, his brows furrowed. Why this sudden turn of events?

At nine, Alice awoke. Caden was in the dining room, on the phone, breakfast already served. Aching and weak, Alice moved slowly, leaning on the table. Caden held the phone in one hand, his other arm around her. Despite her caution, her pain caused her to shudder, and in frustration, she struck him.

"Instead of pretending to be nice, why don't you just castrate yourself?" he murmured, his voice rough yet soft, devoid of threat.

Ciara, on the other end, interrupted, bewildered. "Brat, is a woman there with you?"

Caden popped a donut into Alice's mouth. "Yes, my personal assistant," he replied nonchalantly.

Alice, donut in mouth, glared. Caden, deep in thought, showed her his phone; it was his grandmother. Alice froze.

Ciara's voice returned. "Isn't Hank your personal assistant?"

"She's my executive assistant," Caden corrected.

"I was under the impression you didn't employ women," Ciara said curiously.

Caden glanced at Alice. "She insisted," he said dismissively. Alice was speechless.

Ciara remained unconvinced. "I've seen women harass you. Without your interest, would she dare to be so bold? And what did she mean by 'emasculate' you?"

Caden rubbed his nose, frustrated. "She's a little…unhinged. I'm letting her go today."

Alice, outraged, attempted to kick him, but her leg was too weak. Instead, she kicked the chair leg, nearly fainting from the pain.

Ciara sensed the oddity. "You have a girlfriend."

Caden remained calm. "If that were true, you'd be the first to know."

Ciara, trusting her instincts, wasn't ready to drop it. After hanging up, she addressed the maid. "If she's just a secretary, why would Caden tolerate her? He must be spoiling her."

The maid suggested, "Why don't you ask Hank?"

Ciara scoffed. "They're too close. Hank won't tell."

Determined, she said, "Book me a plane ticket. I'm going to Warrington now."

The maid helped her. "If Caden is seeing someone, do you think he should marry her?"

"Definitely, if he's fond of her," Ciara replied resolutely.

"And the Moss family?" the maid reminded her. "They sent a representative yesterday. Dismissing them won't be easy."

Ciara frowned. "I don't like Yolanda. She's not right for Caden. I don't want this marriage, but as Blake mentioned, Caden needs their support."

Caden was proud and stubborn; his only weakness was his late mother. His resolve wavered regarding anything related to her.

Ciara's gaze darkened. The maid sighed. "It's hard to see Caden so determined. It saddens me." Tears welled in Ciara's eyes, deeply sympathizing.

Before leaving, Caden put on his coat, Alice helping him choose a tie. He watched her, remembering Ciara's question about his position if Yolanda wanted to marry him. He'd responded indifferently; marriage was a bargaining chip. As long as Yolanda felt she wasn't losing out, he didn't care.

But then, in the wardrobe, looking at Alice, an impulse struck him.

"Alicia, would you consider remarriage?"

Alice looked up, her eyes bright and soft. "No," she replied firmly.

Caden expected this. Alice showed little interest, offering no further explanation. Instead, she patted his thigh gently.

Worried, he asked, "It's getting colder. Are your pants thick enough? Maybe you should wear long underwear."