Sloane quickly stepped forward and said softly, "That Victor is just a spoiled fool, not worth all this trouble." Her tone was calm but firm. "If we make a big deal out of it, he’ll only think he’s more important than he is. Better to ignore him—pretend he doesn’t exist." Beth’s expression softened instantly. She took Sloane’s hand with a smile. "You’re right, Dr. Rivers. A man like that isn’t worth our attention." Still, she turned to Shawn and warned, "Since Sloane said to let it go, we’ll drop it this time. But keep an eye on Victor. If he dares to bother her again—break his legs." Shawn grinned and saluted. "Got it!" Sloane wasn’t afraid of the Monique family or anyone else. She just didn’t want unnecessary trouble before the paternity test was done. Unfortunately, Victor wasn’t the type to let things go easily. A few nights later, one of Shawn’s friends opened a new bar, and Shawn invited Sloane to tag along. The place was packed—the music was pounding, lights flashing, and laughter spilling over the clinking of glasses. "Sloane, grab a seat here," Shawn said, pointing toward the bar. "I’ll go say hi to my friend behind the counter. Order whatever you like—I’ll be right back." Sloane sat at the bar, scanning the long list of colorful cocktails before settling on one. "A Blue Hawaii, please." The bartender—a young man with blond hair and bright blue eyes—winked at her. "Excellent choice." He began spinning bottles and pouring liquor with practiced flair, drawing cheers from nearby onlookers. Sloane watched with interest, unable to hide her curiosity. "Mind if I give it a try?" The bartender arched a brow. "You know how to mix drinks?" "A little," she admitted modestly. Recognizing her as a friend of the owner, he gladly stepped aside. "Be my guest." Sloane rolled up her sleeves and took the shaker. Her movements weren’t flashy, but they were steady and elegant, every motion precise. The clinking of ice and the pour of spirits seemed almost musical under her hands. "This is… a variation of Angel’s Kiss?" the bartender asked in surprise, watching her work. Sloane smiled faintly as she added a few mint leaves to finish it. The drink shimmered with a pale lavender hue, the rim dusted with a fine circle of salt. "Try it." She slid the glass toward him. He took a sip—and his eyes widened. "Wow! The balance… it’s incredible! Distinct layers, perfectly blended!" He turned to her excitedly. "I’m telling the boss about this one. How about we call it… Violet Dream?" Before Sloane could answer, a stir rippled through the crowd near the entrance. Victor swaggered in with four or five of his friends, loud and laughing. His eyes found her instantly behind the bar. "Well, well," he drawled, letting out a whistle. "If it isn’t my gorgeous racer. Didn’t think I’d find you here mixing drinks." He strutted toward her, eyes gleaming with something between arrogance and hunger. "Pour me one of your special cocktails, sweetheart."The bartender tensed, stepping forward, but one of Victor’s friends snickered. "Do you even know who this is, pretty thing? People line up just to catch a glimpse of him. You should feel honored he’s talking to you." Sloane’s eyes turned cold. "Then by all means—take my place. You can have the honor." She turned to leave.