The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Meetings.
Discussions.
Detailed planning for her shop's management.
She was instructed to outline operational needs for at least two months.
Contingencies were discussed.
Fallback options.
Even provisions allowing her temporary return, should extended absence become necessary.
By the time everything was finalized, it was nearly nine in the evening, and Rachel had not completed any of her own work.
She had intended to delay some of the handover, but the arrangements had already been set in motion, leaving her with no real choice.
Encouraged to rest, she was guided into a limousine that had been modified to include a resting space, complete with a cushioned surface and protective side rails.
Rachel lay back, staring faintly at the ceiling.
This felt unreal.
Gradually, sleep took her.
—
Her rest was not deep, and after six hours, she was gently awakened and informed that the next step required her presence at a designer's establishment.
Upon arrival, she stepped out of the limousine and paused, momentarily taken aback by the structure before her.
"Miss Peerny, this way."
She followed quietly, allowing herself to be guided to the upper level, where she was measured and consulted by a highly regarded designer.
Despite her exhaustion, she recognized the designer's work immediately and felt a flicker of admiration, recalling how those designs had inspired many of her own flooring concepts.
After the session, she was escorted to a high-end spa, where she underwent a full-body treatment designed to relieve tension and prepare her for the upcoming events.
Three hours passed before she was moved to a salon.
There, her hair was carefully treated and styled into soft, defined curls, transforming her natural 4C texture into long, airy ringlets that fell downward with gentle weight, each curl shaped and set to maintain volume while cascading smoothly rather than lifting upward.
The result framed her features beautifully, giving her a refined yet soft appearance that felt both natural and elevated.
Afterward, she was taken for nail care, then to lunch, and finally back to the tailor to wear her completed outfit, which fit her perfectly and was paired with matching jewelry, heels and light makeup that enhanced her natural features.
By the time everything was finished, she was guided back into the limousine and taken toward the Piao headquarters, resting quietly along the way.
When she stepped out upon arrival, she felt noticeably more refreshed, though a faint sense of disbelief still lingered as she looked up at the building before her.
—
As she stood before the Piao family headquarters, Rachel allowed herself a brief moment to take in the sight before stepping forward.
She had been here before, but never under circumstances like this.
Most of her previous visits had been strictly professional, tied to her family's flooring business and their work with both natural and imitation wood materials supplied under the Piao family's oversight.
Her parents had once told her about the Piao family's evaluation method, where rare resources were distributed to various workshops to observe how they would be used.
Some businesses had exploited the opportunity for profit or influence, while others had used the materials with care and integrity.
Her family's shop had been among the latter.
That event later became one of the many reasons the Peerny family's floor shop was able to remain stable in this competitive industry.
Rachel exhaled softly and stepped forward.
Before she could proceed further, someone approached and blocked her path.
"Greetings, Lady Piao."
Rachel froze for a fraction of a second before her brows drew together in confusion.
"…Excuse me?"
The man seemed certain.
"There is no mistake."
Rachel felt a flicker of unease but quickly steadied herself.
"You are mistaken," she replied calmly, though there was a slight tightness beneath her composure.
The man hesitated but did not fully withdraw his claim, his gaze lingering as though trying to confirm something he could not quite place.
"The resemblance is…" he began.
"She is not affiliated with the Piao family."
The assistant beside Rachel stepped in smoothly, her tone polite yet firm.
"This is Ms. Rachel Peerny, and I would advise you to be mindful of your assumptions."
The man finally stepped back, though his expression remained unconvinced.
Rachel moved past him, but she could feel his gaze lingering on her as she walked.
It was only later that she learned his name.
Marcus Fuze.
As they proceeded through the building, Rachel quickly realized that he was not someone who favored silence.
Marcus continued speaking, his voice directed toward a recording device as he commented on everything around him, offering observations, questions, and opinions without pause.
It did not take long for Rachel to understand that he was also a lottery winner.
A second one.
Unlike her, however, he seemed entirely comfortable with the situation, treating it as an opportunity rather than something to cautiously analyze.
"…and if this is the level of access we're being given, then it raises the question of how much transparency is actually being offered to the public," Marcus said, turning slightly toward his camera.
Rachel kept her expression neutral as she walked, though internally, she felt a growing sense of fatigue.
He did not stop.
Not once.
Each observation led to another question, and each question led to further commentary, creating a continuous stream of speech that filled the hallway.
Rachel resisted the urge to sigh.
To his credit, she admitted silently, some of his questions were genuinely insightful.
They touched on points she herself had once been curious about, particularly during her earlier visits to the headquarters.
However, unlike him, she had never voiced those thoughts aloud.
"…and considering the structure of authority here, it would make sense to assume—"
Rachel closed her eyes briefly as they continued walking.
This was truly excessive.
By the time they neared the meeting area, the length of the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, not because of distance, but because of the constant sound of his voice.
Some of his questions were ones she herself had once wondered about, yet never voiced.
"…I'll give him that," she murmured under her breath.
Then, with a faint shake of her head she added, "…but he really should learn to be quieter."
She exhaled softly, her composure returning as they approached their destination.