Confined to The Mid-Levels, the young lady's life was still as colorful as ever.
Even though she couldn't go out.
If she wanted to buy clothes or jewelry, she would have sales associates from major luxury brands bring the latest season's collection to the house for her to choose from or have custom pieces made.
If she craved a dish from a certain restaurant, the chef would be invited to The Mid-Levels.
In just two days, five or six different pastry chefs had been brought in.
During the rest of the time, since they had nothing better to do, Evelyn Grant did her makeup and styled her hair according to the looks she wanted.
"A pure, youthful makeup style suits you best." She gently pinched Sophie Keaton's cheek. "The lines from your forehead to your chin are smooth and full. Your bone structure and features complement each other perfectly, which really suits your age."
"If you want something more mature, the cool and elegant plum blossom look from your last birthday would also be perfect."
"Anything more mature than that might look aging on you."
Sophie Keaton nodded, only half-understanding.
In any case, she had Evelyn in Veridia, and there would be others to do her makeup when she went to Corvin. The young lady's life motto was that money could solve any problem.
While Sophie Keaton was causing a stir at The Mid-Levels, Preston Keaton let her be, indulging her whims. As long as she didn't cross any lines, he wouldn't say a thing.
Most of the time, he was a good brother.
"He doesn't have much patience, he's hard to talk to, he's cold and heartless, completely focused on Apex, and he's a strict old fossil. Sometimes he's so busy I don't see him for half a year."
Sophie Keaton tried to list her brother's faults and figured there must be more, but she couldn't think of any at the moment and gave up. "But my brother took on most of the Consortium's affairs when he was just eighteen. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be able to live so freely and happily."
Lying on the sofa with her chin in her hands, Evelyn Grant thought of Dylan Grant.
The fact that she didn't have to join the Grant Group and could instead do what she loved, that she was free to see the world at eighteen, had a lot to do with him too.
Even though Dylan Grant usually loved to be a jerk to her, never having a single kind word come out of that foul mouth of his.
But when she went back this time, she could see that Dylan had lost a lot of weight.
She sat up. "I'm going to make a call."
The moment the call connected, Dylan Grant's lazy voice came through. "What's up? Did the ungrateful little wolf cub actually remember to call me?"
"..." 'Knew he wouldn't have anything nice to say.'
Evelyn Grant hung up without hesitation.
'Thank goodness. Dylan is still as punchable as ever. I almost said something sappy to him.'
The Apex Consortium was located in the heart of Centrium. Its skyscraper pierced the clouds, and the top floor offered a panoramic view of Veridia, making it a famous landmark.
After the long meeting ended, Wyatt Walsh quickened his pace by a couple of steps and gently opened the door to the chairman's office.
"The young lady's flight back to Corvin is tomorrow afternoon."
Preston Keaton nodded.
Swamped with work, he held a fountain pen and scanned the contract with a cool gaze. His eyes, calm and aloof, betrayed a noble yet detached air. He raised his hand and signed his name at the bottom: Lorcan.
The handwriting was strong and fluid, the strokes seemingly powerful enough to press through the paper.
"What's the situation in The Midlands?"
His tone was unhurried. Wyatt Walsh knew what he was referring to and lowered his head slightly. "We've had people watching. They've taken photos."
Preston Keaton grunted in acknowledgment and said no more.
Wyatt Walsh slipped out quietly, pulling the door closed behind him.
'The chairman had always been swift and decisive, leaving no room for others to maneuver. He appeared gentle and refined, but was autocratic and resolute underneath. Whatever he wanted, he would get.'
'You couldn't blame others for this, though.'
'Some people just couldn't stand up to scrutiny.'
Dusk began to fall.
The afterglow of the sunset settled on the sea, painting it with a golden shimmer that was peaceful and serene.
Evelyn Grant stood on the balcony, enjoying the evening breeze and the most leisurely, private moments of her day.
She was, in truth, a little lost.
Sophie Keaton was returning to Corvin tomorrow. The job was supposed to be for ten days, but the actual work had taken two days at most. After Sophie went to Eldoria, what would she herself do?
Sophie Keaton, ever cheerful, had laughed and told her to just enjoy life at The Mid-Levels.
But having received a payment of fifty million, Evelyn Grant couldn't help but feel a little insecure.
Getting the money had been as easy as breathing, which, paradoxically, made her feel terrified.
As Henry Sterling followed Preston Keaton's motorcade up the mountain, he glanced up and saw a girl on the second-floor balcony. She was leaning against the glass railing, her delicate face no bigger than the palm of his hand—fair, fresh, and as exquisitely beautiful as a masterful sculpture.
The evening breeze made her soft hair dance in the wind. The lively and charming grace she exuded so naturally made it impossible to look away.
His eyes were glued to her. "Is that your little lady?"
Preston Keaton was on the phone. He lazily lifted his chin, his gaze fixed on her, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
The sound of car engines drifted up from downstairs.
Evelyn Grant looked down, saw the familiar motorcade, and immediately took several steps back. Afraid of being seen, she scurried back into her room.
She thought no one had noticed, but Henry Sterling had seen it all.
He couldn't help but laugh, gloating, "Why does she run the second she sees you?"
All he got in response was Preston Keaton's back. He sighed and hurried to catch up.
Having been to The Mid-Levels more than once, Henry Sterling wasn't actually a fan of the decor. The black and gray color scheme was too somber, but it suited Preston Keaton's personality.
With a familiar smile, he turned to a servant and said, "Tell your young lady to come down."
Sophie Keaton's room was next to Evelyn Grant's, and they were both called downstairs for dinner.
But it was strange.
The person next to her was inexplicably fidgety and reserved. Normally, she was like a little bird, flitting about The Mid-Levels full of life, but tonight, she was wilted and listless, as if her wings had been clipped.
Evelyn Grant couldn't help but turn her head to take a few more glances.
Then she saw the unfamiliar man downstairs, and suddenly, it was as if a light bulb went on in her head—she understood.
"Sis, I rushed back from Argent Borough the day after your birthday last time, but you had already gone back to Corvin. So today, your big bro made a special trip to bring you a present."
It was a diamond bracelet.
It sparkled brilliantly under the lights.
Sophie Keaton couldn't hide her delight. After happily putting it on, she called out cheerfully, "Thank you, big bro!"
Henry Sterling teased, "Only call me 'big bro' when I bring gifts. It's so hard to get you to say it now that you're all grown up."
He then looked at Evelyn Grant, a roguish smile on his face. "Hello, Miss Grant. My name is Henry Sterling."
Evelyn Grant was a bit surprised, but she curved her lips into a polite smile. "Hello."
'Can't deny it.'
'Her voice is really pleasant.'
'Everything about her is perfect. No wonder even a man as ascetic as Preston Keaton would be tempted.'
Preston Keaton was on the phone in the study, and there was no telling how long he would be. Henry Sterling lazily took out a cigarette, but after a moment's thought, he just toyed with it between his fingers.
'Preston Keaton's little lady seems to come from a good family. So poised.'
'She must be as innocent as a blank sheet of paper, knowing nothing of the world.'
'I hear she's been in The Midlands all this time, so of course she wouldn't know that Preston Keaton's villa in The Mid-Levels isn't a place just anyone can visit.'
'He's extremely territorial. The Mid-Levels is his primary residence; how could he possibly let a strange woman stay here? Even for Henry Sterling himself, opportunities to come to The Mid-Levels were few and far between.'