"Scott, it's still early. Don't you want to rest a bit longer?" "I'm heading to the office first to check on the partnership progress. The minimum investment Lewis Group announced is one billion. Given our current reputation and Myers Group's position, if we don't accept their terms, I doubt anyone else will invest." "But Chloe refuses to work with Myers Group, doesn't she? She's in charge of this project. If she fails, she should step down—that's what the board agreed to," Monique countered. "Are you really going to help her with this impossible task now?" Scott had already reached the door. Hearing her, he paused and turned to face her. "Monique, don't you want Lewis Group to regain its former standing and become profitable again?" "I..." Monique found herself at a loss for words. Scott turned and left. Soon, the sound of his car pulling away echoed from the driveway. Monique stood frozen, glancing at the clock. It was only six in the morning. Scott was already on his way to the office. Chloe's deadline was at ten o'clock sharp—less than four hours away. If Scott decided to support Chloe, he had the means to secure a billion in funding. If he chose to back her now, wouldn't that ruin their plans...? No, she couldn't let that happen. Monique didn't dare waste another moment. She rushed upstairs to change, then hurried out of the Lewis Manor and headed toward a private suburban estate. When she arrived, she considered calling Ernesto first, but then remembered she knew the door code and began entering it. The lock clicked open. Monique pushed the door forward, intending to surprise Ernesto quietly, but accidentally knocked over a vase near the entrance. The crash echoed loudly in the early morning quiet. Almost immediately, she heard movement upstairs—a sudden commotion, as if someone had been startled. "Ernesto? Is that you?" Monique called out, then flipped on the living room lights. Only then did she see the state of the room. A woman's coat lay carelessly tossed over the sofa, a pair of high-heeled shoes was scattered on the floor, and the vase she'd bumped into had fallen and still lay where it landed—apparently no one had bothered to pick it up. Monique's expression tightened with displeasure.Why was there a woman's coat on the sofa? And high heels lying around like that? "Ernesto?" A flicker of suspicion crossed her eyes. Convinced he had betrayed her, she stormed upstairs. Reaching the closed bedroom door, her mind raced with imagined scenes. Was Ernesto seeing another woman behind her back? Who was she? Monique stepped forward, about to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Ernesto stood there, looking sleepy and disheveled. "Monique? What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming." He yawned and opened the door wider. Monique scanned the bedroom. The bed was unmade, clearly slept in, but there was no other woman in sight. Not satisfied, she pushed past him and searched the room—checking the closet, under the bed, even the bathroom. She found nothing. No one else was there. Then what was with the scene downstairs? "Ernesto, are you hiding someone? What's with the high heels and the coat?" Monique confronted him, her voice rising. "You're cheating on me? How could you?" Ernesto grabbed her wrist, his tone turning sharp. "What's with the yelling this early? Over this? You think I'm cheating? Which part of this looks like that to you?" "I... Downstairs..." "Downstairs?" "Those high heels—that coat! How do you explain them?" Monique's eyes reddened. Ernesto stared at her for a long moment, then spoke slowly, "Those were gifts I bought for you. I had too much to drink last night and just dropped everything in the living room when I got back. I even tripped over those damn heels and knocked over the vase." "What?" Monique stared at him, stunned. "I barely made it up here and passed out without even showering. Can't you smell the alcohol on me? And now you wake me up screaming—my head is killing me!" Ernesto scowled. "Monique, you're being ridiculous. You should know me better than this."