Tiffany returned home, slipping off her coat as she headed into the kitchen.
The fridge was stocked with fresh vegetables Allen had bought the day before—neatly arranged, all of them her favorites.
She was about to start cooking when the door opened.
Allen walked in, holding a gold-trimmed box.
"Hey… this came for you. The manager sent it."
Tiffany took it and opened the lid.
Inside lay a wine-red off-shoulder mermaid gown.
Allen glanced at it once, his expression immediately souring.
"What even is this design… some kind of aesthetic torture device? It just screams cheap. If he has no taste, maybe he shouldn't be a manager."
Tiffany let out a soft laugh.
"He did it on purpose. Wants me to finish the deal—and take a little revenge for last time."
She closed the box and looked at him.
"Then you pick one for me."
Allen's eyes lit up.
"Me? Sure. Tracksuit, jeans, leather jacket… actually, it's cold—a puffer jacket would be perfect."
"Don't be ridiculous." Her tone was light, but firm.
"The deposit isn't small. I can't afford to mess this up."
Allen's expression dimmed slightly.
"Fine… I'll make you lunch. You handle your stuff."
Tiffany said nothing. She set the box aside, took a photo of the address, memorized it, then burned it without hesitation.
After that, she turned to her wardrobe.
Her fingers paused—then selected another dress.
A champagne evening gown.
The satin mermaid silhouette flowed along her body like liquid light.
Her waist was cinched to perfection, her curves soft yet restrained.
The skirt flared gently below the knees, rippling like water as she moved.
Her shoulders were bare, the off-shoulder cut framing her collarbones with quiet precision.
Under the warm light, she seemed wrapped in a soft glow.
It wasn't loud sensuality—
but something far more dangerous.
An elegance that made people want to get closer—without realizing why.
She walked toward the dining area.
Allen was setting the table. When he turned around, he froze.
"Wow…"
His eyes lit up, then he let out a quiet groan, walking over and pulling her into a loose embrace.
"Tiff… you look way too good. That's not fair."
She lowered her gaze slightly, lips curving.
"So? Boys would like this, right?"
"Of course."
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against her waist.
"You're dangerous when you dress like this."
She let out a small breath of amusement.
"Alright. The makeup artist will be here soon. I haven't eaten yet."
Reluctantly, he let go.
"Right… eat first."
She sat down, her tone shifting—calm, controlled.
"Prepare something for self-defense. And bring the jeans and leather jacket."
She looked up at him.
"You might need to come with me tonight. I sent you the address. He booked two hours—he'll probably extend. Check the surroundings first."
Allen blinked, then scratched the back of his neck with a helpless smile.
"Slow down… I'm not as sharp as you. I need to write this down."
She gave him a look, faintly amused.
"Don't fall behind, my lady."
Allen paused—then laughed under his breath.
"Yes, my lady."
The car had barely come to a stop when the attendants rushed forward.
People instinctively stepped aside.
Even the noisy entrance fell silent for a brief moment.
She hadn't even stepped out yet—
but the air had already cleared the way for her.
Tiffany stepped out.
The champagne evening gown wrapped around her slender, poised figure.
Her collarbones shimmered faintly beneath the lights, her silhouette precise and cold.
Her long hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
Her features were delicate, distant—her lips tinted in a cool shade.
Amid the glittering world,she felt untouchable.
This was Silentwharf Lane.
Lights stretched endlessly along the waterfront, neon reflections breaking into gold across the water.
Crystal chandeliers spilled brilliance from the private clubs, perfume and alcohol blending into something intoxicating.
Luxury—almost unreal.
And beneath it—
shadows layered deep.
No matter how bright the lights were,
they never reached the darkness.
Inside the private room, the atmosphere was bright and extravagant.
He wasn't alone.
Around him sat a group of well-dressed young elites, each carrying the arrogance of their circle.
Laughter, conversation—carefully performed confidence.
This gathering had been arranged deliberately.
Just to show her—status, power, control.
This time, the deposit he paid was several times higher than before.
And the desire in his eyes—
was no longer hidden.
Not far away, in the shadows outside—
a black car sat quietly at the edge of the light.
The windows were dark.
Allen sat inside, his profile calm, almost indifferent.
But his eyes never left the entrance.
Not for a second.
If anyone crossed the line—
he would move.
At the corner, another black car was parked in the shadows, perfectly positioned beyond surveillance.
The engine hummed low.
From that spot, every approach and retreat could be controlled in an instant.
Allen scanned the surroundings, silent, precise.
Ahead—
two ordinary black vans waited without a sound.
Their windows were dark.
No movement inside.
Like silent shadows.
Sealing off every possible exit.