Night. Finnley's apartment.

After a shower, Mya heated two glasses of milk and took one to the study.

She put it next to Finnley's right hand. “Don’t stay up too late. It's as harmful as committing suicide. You are not the company owner. Why do you work so hard?”

Finnley was reading about the mining progress in South Africa. When he looked up, he saw Mya turn away.

“What kind of thought is it? Irresponsible!” his inner voice retorted. Finnley picked up the milk, took a few sips, and turned off his laptop. Then he went to the living room.

Mya had entered the bedroom and locked the door from the inside as usual.

Finnley put down the empty glass. By accident, he saw long hair next to the coffee table.

After a few seconds, he bent over, picked it up, and put it into the garbage can.

Then he washed his hands and lay on the couch as usual.

Five o'clock, early morning.

In the apartment's only bedroom, Mya suddenly tightened her grip on the quilt. The next second, she snapped open her eyes.

Her breath almost stopped.

a dream about Finnley. In the dream, she married him, and she was

and looked around. Then she realized she was in Finnley’s bedroom, a chill rising from

in her dream looked too real, reappearing in

Finnley’s palm. While their families and friends were applauding for

the melody of the Wedding March, she saw everyone smiling at

so actual, as if it had

was startled, still in a daze, wondering why she had such a dream. “No, no, no. Dreams are always opposite to real life,” Mya denied it. “Stop freaking out yourself,

he

baffled her, making her

light, lay down, and

Morning.

put on a celeste suit jacket

Today was the first day she joined the R-Alan Group officially, so she wanted to entirely emanate her powerful aura. Then she

to the company's entrance,

pulled the door of her car open and greeted her, “Good morning, Ms. Collins. Mr. Eastwood let us wait

the first time

the door and walked toward the glass door of

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