Chapter 2
The entire room fell into a deathly silence.
Every eye in the room was pinned on me like a spotlight—dripping with shock, skepticism, and intense curiosity.
My parents' jaws dropped so low they could have swallowed an egg whole.
"E-Eight figures?" my mom stammered, her voice shaking with disbelief. Alex and his cronies looked like they'd just seen a ghost, their faces a messy blur of confusion and suspicion.
"Emily, where did you find this actor? They're actually pretty good." Alex was the first to snap out of it, wearing a smug 'I've-got-you-figured-out' look. "Eight figures? Why stop there? Why not just say a hundred million?"
I couldn't care about him less. I just spoke into the phone with a casual shrug, "Got it. As long as the wire went through, we're good. Anyway, I'm busy here. Catch you later."
I was about to hang up.
"Hold on," the man on the other end said, his voice laced with a hint of exasperated affection. "Don't hang up yet. I'm actually at the entrance of the alley. What's your house number? Tell me now, or I'm going to start shouting your name."
His voice crackled through the line with a lazy, teasing threat that made my heart skip a beat and my face heat up for no reason.
I rattled off the house number, told him to "just wait," and hung up.
"I'm heading out," I said, grabbing my coat without sparing a single glance at Alex and his friends, who all looked like they'd just swallowed a lemon.
"Emily! Get back here!" My dad finally found his voice, sounding both panicked and furious. "Who was that? What eight-figure payment? What boyfriend? You're going to get yourself scammed."
"He's right, Emily," Mrs. Brooks chimed in with her trademark fake concern. "There are so many predators out there these days, especially targeting innocent young girls like you."
I stopped, turned back, and gave them a smile. "Uncles, Aunts, Mom, Dad—don't you worry. My boyfriend is a lot more reliable than you think. At the very least, he'd never humiliate me in front of a room full of people."
That hit them like a physical slap to the face.
Alex bolted upright, his chair screeching harshly against the floor.
"Emily, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snapped.
"Exactly what it sounds like." I shrugged and walked out.
A chaotic argument erupted behind me, but I tuned out the noise.
At the entrance of the alley, a sleek black Bentley Mulsanne sat quietly under an old locust tree. It looked completely out of place against the backdrop of the crumbling apartment buildings.
The window rolled down, revealing a profile so strikingly handsome it felt like a personal attack.
He was in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a classic Patek Philippe visible on his wrist. With his sharp nose and chiseled jawline, he radiated an aura of refined elegance and quiet, old-money wealth.
This was my "Mr. Mason"—Charles Mason.
My biggest client. Someone I'd only ever known online—until today.
"Get in," he said, short and to the point.
I slid into the passenger seat, the blast of AC instantly killing the sticky summer heat.
"Thanks for that," I said, genuinely grateful as I buckled my seatbelt. If he hadn't called, I really would have ended up as the neighborhood's biggest joke.
Charles kept his gaze straight ahead, not even glancing at me, and just gave a nonchalant hum.
"It was nothing," he replied.
He didn't pry into what just happened, and I was happy to keep it that way.
"So... you really came all this way just for the music box?" I asked, just to break the silence.
"Why else?" He started the engine, and the Bentley glided smoothly out of the narrow alley. "I wanted to see for myself what kind of place the genius who fixed The Twin Begonia Music Box calls home."
I pursed my lips. This guy always spoke in such a cryptic, high-and-mighty tone. "Sorry to disappoint. It's just another run-down building." I said.
"True talent doesn't care about its origins." He finally turned his head to glance at me, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Right then, my phone started buzzing like a frantic insect.
It was a video call from Alex.
I frowned and hit decline.
He called right back, refusing to take the hint.
Annoyed, I finally and picked up.
"Emily! Which old sugar daddy did you hook up with this time? Come on, if you're so proud, show us his face!" Alex's cocky voice blasted through the speaker.
Before I could even open my mouth, Charles suddenly leaned in.
His face filled the entire screen in an instant.
That unfairly handsome face, highlighted by the dim interior lights, looked even more chiseled and intimidating than before.
He stared straight into the camera and parted his thin lips to say just six words. "Do I look old to you?"