April stared at the girl in the mirror, momentarily dazed.

She had removed her large glasses, swapped them for brown contact lenses, and applied natural-looking fake eyelashes. Her eyes, once wide and expressive, now brimmed with intrigue and mystery, as though they were ready to captivate all the audiences.

With a light layer of makeup, her skin looked smooth and flawless, glowing with soft, translucent radiance. Her sleek, straight black hair cascaded down like a silken waterfall, catching the light with every subtle movement. She looked nothing short of mesmerizing—almost like Snow White brought to life.

Makeup artists were practically magicians; the transformation was so stunning that even her own mother might not recognize her.

April had never imagined she could look like this. It dawned on her that some so-called beautiful socialites owed their allure entirely to wealth and privilege. But there were certain qualities—like natural charisma—that couldn't be bought or acquired overnight. Those were intrinsic, a rare gift some were simply born with.

She stole a glance at the man seated behind her, his head lowered as he fiddled with his phone. He didn't exude the air of someone who relied on women for a living, as Sandra had once insinuated. No sugar baby, no matter how affluent, could radiate this kind of presence. Why didn't she notice that before?

His confidence and depth seemed intrinsic, the kind that came from within—earned through experience, not granted by wealth or privilege. It was a quiet, undeniable power, forged over time and entirely his own.

Moreover, anyone who could hang out with someone like Ryo clearly came from a strong family background. In fact, it now seemed possible that Arden's family might even be more prestigious than Ryo's.

April couldn't help but marvel at Sandra's incredible fortune. She had Yao, who was devoted, kind-hearted, and unwavering in his pursuit of her for so long. And now, she had someone like Arden—wealthy, stylish, and effortlessly confident. Why couldn't she find someone like that?

Ryo, on the other hand, was a different story. Sure, he had some money, but he wasn't generous, especially with women. Every interaction with him felt like a calculated exchange. He would only spend money if he'd already gotten what he wanted, and even then, his generosity depended entirely on his mood. If there was a way for him to gain something without paying, he'd seize the opportunity without hesitation. Truly petty.

April wasn't naive. Ryo's initial offer to be his girlfriend had flattered her vanity, but after witnessing his true nature, she had no intention of letting herself be taken advantage of. When Sandra stepped in to help, she gladly distanced herself from Ryo, preserving her sense of dignity and mystery. She genuinely appreciated her friend's support in that moment.

Now, as she observed the man behind her, her thoughts began to shift. Could Sandra's reasons for warning her to stay away from Ryo really have been as straightforward as they seemed? 

Perhaps Sandra had already recognized the high-caliber man standing beside Ryo and, deep down, feared she might get drawn in and take him away. Maybe that was why Sandra concocted some ridiculous story about Arden's profession, treating her as though she were a child—and she had foolishly believed it and even paid him money last time.

That time, he hadn't actually slept with her—was it because of her foolish actions? If they had gone through with it back then, would she already be his girlfriend now, without having to pretend?

Arden, wearing a wig styled from carefully chosen hairpieces, sat flipping through his phone, his expression clouded with irritation.

Why wasn't Sandra answering his call? It wasn't as if her phone was dead or out of range—no, she was deliberately ignoring him.

Was she avoiding him again? After that passionate, sweet, and playful afternoon they'd spent at her place yesterday—had it all been a lie?

The more he thought about it, the more his frustration grew. It felt as though she was toying with him, treating him like nothing more than a fleeting fling, a playboy good for satisfying her whims and then being discarded. The thought stung more than he cared to admit, and each passing moment added to the burning annoyance simmering inside him.

Still, something felt off. He tried to brush it aside. It made sense that things weren't going smoothly. His old man was after him, so of course, nothing could be going smoothly. But the nagging feeling lingered, like a splinter in his thoughts. 

What was he missing?

"Mr. Lam, Miss Hsiao is ready," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Let's go," Arden said curtly, glancing at April through the mirror. Her transformation was impressive. "It's almost time."

April swallowed hard, nervousness bubbling up inside her. This felt far more daunting than meeting real in-laws—though, admittedly, she'd never had the chance to experience that yet.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" she asked, her voice tight. "What if your father asks me questions? How am I supposed to answer?"

Arden waved a hand dismissively, brushing off her concerns. "If he asks about your family, just say whatever comes to mind. Make something up. As for art-related questions, you've known Sandra for years, haven't you? You've worked as a figure model. You'll figure it out."

It didn't matter if she lied. Both the old man and Arden knew the truth—no matter how many girlfriends he had, no one would ever become the Lam family's daughter-in-law.

His marriage would always be a strategic move, a bargaining chip for the future. When the time came, even if the woman was older or unattractive, if it served the Lam family's business interests, he would marry her. That was why Arden had always treated women like playthings—no attachment, no sentiment. Once the responsibility of the Lam family fell to him, his freedom would be gone.

Arden gestured toward April's reflection in the mirror. "My father has no resistance to girls like you. He won't make things difficult for you. If you don't know the answer to a question, just pass it to me."

"Are you sure that's okay?" April asked, her unease showing in her voice.

Arden sighed irritably, standing up. "Just relax. I'll handle it." He then left to get the car.

As he slid into the driver's seat, a wave of restlessness swept over him. It must be because he was about to face his father. Naturally, that made him anxious.

But why was he nervous? Modeling and chasing girls weren't exactly crimes. The worst that would happen was another scolding from his father, which he'd grown used to over the years. Hadn't he been scolded enough since childhood?

Besides, he was on the verge of graduation. His father likely wouldn't push him to return home now, not when his future was hanging in the balance.

So why did he still feel so unsettled?

🎬🔀

Arden and April arrived at his house. In the downstairs family room, Moya sat with the old man, laughing and chatting with ease. She had a natural talent for charming the elderly, making her the perfect backup in case things didn't go as planned.

Arden took April's hand and led her down the stairs.

"Dad, we're back," he called out.

The two on the sofa turned their heads in unison. As their eyes landed on the shy girl beside Arden, their brows furrowed almost simultaneously.

Genetics truly worked in mysterious ways. Despite Moya's mixed-race features, the way her brow knitted in thought was eerily similar to the old man's.

Moya exchanged a glance with Arden. He responded with a small, almost imperceptible smile before gently pulling April forward.

"Dad, this is my girlfriend, Sasa," Arden said smoothly, then gestured toward the others. "And this is my dad. And my god-sister, Moya."

April looked up at Mr. Lam—only to freeze in place.

Mr. Lam wasn't old at all. In fact, he was just as strikingly handsome as Arden. His appearance was so well-preserved that one might have guessed he was in his thirties. Though his build mirrored Arden's, there was a distinct discipline in his posture—a lasting mark of his years in military service. His straight back and commanding presence exuded authority without the need for raised voices or grand gestures.

As Mr. Lam's sharp eyes swept over April, the furrow in his brow relaxed. His thin lips, nearly identical to Arden's, curled into a faint smile.

"Is she mute?" he teased.

Arden gave April's hand a gentle tug, breaking her from her frozen state. She finally found her voice, though it wavered slightly.

"Hello, Uncle Lam. Nice to meet you. I brought some smoked salmon as a gift." She held out the neatly wrapped package.

Moya, who had been lounging comfortably next to Mr. Lam, leaned forward with a gloating smile. She took the gift box from April's hands and set it aside. Then, tugging playfully at Mr. Lam's sleeve, she said in a light, teasing tone, "Godfather, I'am hungry. Everyone's here now. Let's have dinner."

Since Moya wasn't officially recognized as a member of the Lam family, she had to call the old man godfather. To outsiders, this form of address might have seemed unusual, even open to speculation.

Mr. Lam smiled and rose gracefully from his seat. "Alright, let's eat." 

April let out a quiet sigh of relief. Arden's father wasn't as intimidating as she had feared.

The meal, prepared by the housekeeper who usually tended to Arden, was simple but satisfying. Mr. Lam had a way of speaking that was even more persuasive than Arden's—his warmth made it easy for anyone to let their guard down.

He casually shared amusing anecdotes from his recent flight, while Moya and Arden chimed in, keeping the conversation flowing effortlessly. The atmosphere around the table felt lighthearted and harmonious.

Yet beneath Arden's relaxed exterior, his unease only grew stronger.

If old man had started with a reprimand, Arden would have found it easier to handle—he could have countered with a few sweet words to smooth things over. But now, it seemed he was genuinely here just to enjoy the meal with them. The longer he delayed addressing the matter Arden dreaded, the more anxious Arden became.

"Miss Hsiao, what does your family do?" After several rounds of light conversation, Mr. Lam finally turned his attention to April. Arden sat up straighter, bracing himself.

April, who hadn't eaten since she woke up, was starving after all the day's commotion. At first, she had tried to maintain a ladylike demeanor, but as the atmosphere relaxed, her hunger took over, and she began eating with less restraint.

Just as Mr. Lam asked his question, she had taken a bite of rice. She hurried to swallow, but it went down the wrong way, causing her to choke.

"Don't rush, don't rush." Mr. Lam chuckled warmly, handing her a glass of water. "Arden, how could you let this young lady go so hungry?"

Arden smiled smoothly. "Not my fault. The housekeeper must've been so dazzled by how handsome you looked today that she got excited, and the dishes turned out extra delicious."

Mr. Lam laughed lightly. "Well, eat more. A girl like you should put on a little weight. You looked too thin in the photos."

"Photos?!" Moya and Arden blurted out in unison, their surprise evident.

Mr. Lam raised an eyebrow, his expression calm. "Yes. Your Uncle Chan's daughter showed me some pictures from their art exhibition. I didn't realize she was such a talented young lady. I heard she had her first exhibition at just ten years old. She has a bright future ahead."

April's face went pale, and her hand froze midair. Moya and Arden exchanged a wary glance, both unsure whether their father was genuinely oblivious or playing a deeper game.

Mr. Lam, however, appeared completely unbothered. He even ladled a bowl of soup and handed it to April with a kind smile. "You seem like a well-mannered girl. Our Arden can be a bit mischievous at times—please forgive him for that."

The second half of the meal passed under a cloud of strained tension. Mr. Lam, however, remained in high spirits, recounting embarrassing anecdotes from Arden's childhood. Arden and Moya, well-versed in handling the spotlight, maintained an effortless charm, carrying the conversation with practiced ease. 

April, on the other hand, felt every bite turn to wax in her mouth, her discomfort growing with each passing moment.

The main character of the evening remained largely silent, and the theatrical facade of harmony began to lose its charm. Sensing the shift, Arden leaned forward slightly and addressed his father. "Dad, Sasa has an early flight to Paris tomorrow for an art exhibition. I think it's best if I send her home so she can rest."

Mr. Lam drew out his reply, his tone unhurried. "Oh, I see." Before he could say more, Moya interjected lightly, "Arden, you stay with Dad. I'll take Ap...Sasa home—it's on my way."

Mr. Lam reached for Arden's hand, patting it affectionately. "That works perfectly."

Arden hesitated briefly but then nodded. "Alright, Dad. I'll just walk them to the car."

To everyone's surprise, Mr. Lam rose from his chair, smiling. "Let's go and see them off together."

At the door, the four of them exchanged polite goodbyes. Mr. Lam's gaze flitted between Arden and April, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Arden stepped closer to April, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Call me as soon as you get home, okay?"

Moya chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "What's this? Don't trust me? Afraid I might whisk your treasure off to some faraway place?"

Arden smiled faintly, but his grip on April's shoulder lingered.

The two men, one old and one young, watched in silence as the sleek SVJ disappeared into the night. Mr. Lam's gaze shifted to the A8 parked in the driveway. He nodded approvingly. "Your car's acceptable, but Moya—tsk. A young girl driving a sports car? Waste of money, not to mention unsafe. You shouldn't encourage that kind of behavior."

Arden quickly agreed, stepping forward to help his father back into the house.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Mr. Lam brushed off Arden's hand with a sharp glance. "Do you really think I'm getting old?"

"Of course not!" Arden replied quickly. "You look younger than me, Dad."

Mr. Lam narrowed his eyes. "Then you must be treating me like a child."

Arden sighed, realizing he could no longer dodge the inevitable. "Dad," he said, his tone softening. "I'll follow your advice."

"Follow my advice?" Mr. Lam snorted. "You haven't followed a damn thing. All I see is you mimicking my bad habits."

Arden flashed a conciliatory smile. "If you weren't so charming, how else would you have won Mom over?"

The remark earned him a swift slap to the back of his neck. "Now you're talking back? Tell me, how many girlfriends do you have? Is this just one of them?"

Arden rubbed his neck, avoiding his father's sharp gaze. "Dad..."

"And what about the girl who paints?" Mr. Lam shot back. "Come to the library. You're going to explain everything to me—properly."

Hours later, after enduring a long lecture that stretched past midnight, Arden finally retreated to his room. He checked his phone and found two messages from Moya.

The first read:"Hey, I've sent your 'Sasa' home."
The second, sent just five minutes ago: "I'm still at Sandra's place. She hasn't come back yet."

A cold weight settled in Arden's chest. Without hesitation, he grabbed his car keys and stormed out of his room.

Hearing the commotion, Mr. Lam opened his bedroom door, calling after him. "Where are you running off to in the middle of the night? Come back here! Hey! You brat, don't think you can do whatever you want!"

But Arden was already out the door, the roar of A8's engine fading into the night.

Blinding headlights, the blare of car horns, and the screech of brakes jolted Arden's overheated mind into momentary calm. He slowed down, rolled down the window, and took a deep breath.

Why was he in such a hurry? All Moya had said was that Sandra hadn't returned home yet, but somehow, without thinking, he had rushed out, leaving his father behind.

He had just been lectured, had just promised he wouldn't act recklessly over a woman. But the words had gone in one ear and out the other—because here he was, breaking that promise without a second thought.

Sigh. Whatever. Let him scold me later. It was too late to turn back now. He might as well head to Sandra's place.

Frustration twisted inside him. Why did he care so much about whether she'd gone home? Was it just because he hadn't picked her up that morning and couldn't reach her all day? Had that small worry snowballed into this irrational urgency?

A simmering anger stirred within him. After his father had exposed the fake girlfriend scheme, Arden had blamed Sandra for everything.

How could she have played him like that? After everything he'd done, she still kept her distance, still avoided him. And yet, here he was, desperately chasing after her like a fool.

This girl—she was definitely messing with him on purpose. She'd called him first, given him hope, and then tangled him up with the police. When he'd tried to retaliate, she'd thrown herself into his arms, making him think she was easy to handle. And then, in the blink of an eye, she'd vanished again.

And now, here he was—lying to his father, running off in the middle of the night, committing an unfilial act he couldn't even justify.

He had never encountered such a maddening woman. She had him twisted in knots, leaving him unsure whether he was the one in control or the one being played.

But he refused to believe she could outmatch him.

One day, he would make her submit—prove to her who was really in charge.

She could play her games, but in the end, he was determined to win.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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