Lance stared at Addison's profile, his gaze intense and distant, as though lost in his own thoughts. Why did he feel this overwhelming sense of frustration, like everything was slipping through his fingers? How could ... it be? He couldn't quite put it into words. A deep, lingering sense of defeat weighed heavily on his heart. For a moment, Lance's emotions were a tangled mess. How could Addison not notice the man's intense, burning gaze from beside her? But she still looked calm, pretending not to see it, and casually rested her hands on the railing, drinking alone in the night breeze. She really didn't want to talk with Lance. The only thing she could do was pretend he wasn't there, hoping he'd take the hint and walk away, leaving her alone. After all, this was the only place where she could catch her breath. But Lance clearly didn't take the hint. As a man of such privilege, the concept of "taking a hint" was foreign to him. He simply kept his gaze fixed on her cool, serene profile for a long while. Addison was naturally distant, almost like a deity untouchable by the world, making her hard to approach. But tonight, after a few too many drinks, she carried a subtle, tipsy air. Her autumn eyes were soft and sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and her moist lips were plump and red. Lance's expression tightened slightly. There was something different about Addison tonight. She took small sips, one after another, and before long, her glass was almost empty. A flicker of concern stirred within Lance as he spoke in a low voice, "How many drinks have you had?" The scent of alcohol around her was strong. While it wasn't unpleasant, it was strangely intoxicating; Lance couldn't help but frown.Drinking still takes a toll on the body, after all. "How many?" Addison lifted her eyelids, her tone casual. "I don't remember." "How many?" His voice rose, carrying a note of pressure. Addison furrowed her brows and turned to face him. "Why do you care how many drinks I've had? Does it matter?" Does it matter? That same question again. The darkness in Lance's eyes deepened. "Of course it matters. Drinking is bad for your health." "Drinking is bad for your health?" Addison repeated the words slowly, as if finding them amusing. She let out a light laugh. "Well, it's my body, not yours. Doesn't really concern you." The man's expression darkened slightly, a hint of warning in his tone as he called her name. "Addison." Addison raised an eyebrow. She turned to look at him, studying him for a moment. There was a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes, as though he really was worried about her well-being. That worry look ... It was exactly the same just like the an old friend's. Even the way his brows furrowed seemed so familiar. Addison rubbed her eyes, a hint of confusion in her gaze. She blinked and asked, "Why did you call me?" She seemed a little drunk. The man before her looked like Harvey. Addison rubbed her eyes and looked up again. The figures of the men in front of her overlapped and were blurry. It really looked like Harvey ... Addison traced the man in front of her from head to toe, studying his eyes, his nose. No ... This is Harvey, isn't it? They look exactly the same.Images of Harvey flashed in her mind—inside the lab, in the classroom, under the peach tree, at the amusement park, beneath the starry sky—until they merged with the figure before her. Oh no, I must be really drunk. Addison stared blankly at the man, her grip on the glass faltering as her mind wandered. In the next second, Lance reacted quickly, catching the glass just before it slipped from her hands. "Addison?" The man before her—this "Harvey"—frowned, looking at her with a hint of confusion. Wait, the voice doesn't sound right. Slowly, Addison started to snap out of her daze. A cold night breeze blew past, cool air grazing her flushed cheeks and snapping her back to reality. As she regained focus, the figure she had longed for vanished. "What did you just say?" Addison asked, her voice a bit awkward. She couldn't help but wish that the person she had seen earlier was Harvey, not Lance. Lance held up his wine glass, waving it in front of her. "Were you spacing out?" Addison forced a smile. "Ah ... The wind just distracted me a bit." Lance stared at her, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. She was lying. She had been staring at his face when she lost focus, not the wind. But Lance suppressed his curiosity and didn't say anything about it. Instead, he spoke slowly, "You still haven't answered my question. How many drinks have you had to end up like this?" Addison reached up, trying to snatch the wine glass from his hand. But with his height and long limbs, he simply raised his hand slightly, placing the glass just out of her reach. "Answer me."Addison glanced at the glass, then quietly lowered her hand. "How many?" She held up her fingers, trying to remember. But she was clearly a bit drunk, and her memory was a bit hazy. "One ... Two ... Three ... " Addison spread her fingers, counting them one by one. "I can't remember." The man frowned, watching her closely. "I told you. Can I have it back now?" Addison said, annoyed, as he reached for the glass. But he still wouldn't give it to her. The glass was now even higher than before. "What are you doing? Why are you taking my drink?" "If you want to drink, there's plenty over there. Just go get it yourself," Addison said, pointing toward the waiter inside. "Oh yeah, this wine ... What was it that person said its name again? Dom. Romanee Conti?" Addison pondered, squinting her eyes. "What?" The woman mumbled something, but Lance couldn't quite catch it. Addison raised her voice, repeating carefully, "I said, this wine is called Dom. Romanee Conti ... " She stopped mid-sentence, waving her hand dismissively. "Forget it, you wouldn't understand." Lance's expression darkened. How could he not understand? He couldn't believe Addison was doubting him. It was just the name of a wine. How could he not understand that? Addison raised her hand again, squinting as she looked inside. She scanned the room, left and right, until she finally spotted Ben's figure. "Go ask him what this wine is called. He's the one who told me. Have him take you to the waiter and get you a glass." Lance followed her finger and saw a man in the distance. He locked his gaze on him, his eyes growing colder.Great. Another man I don't know. How did Addison manage to attract all these shady men? "Who is he?" Lance's voice was laced with dissatisfaction. The memory of the woman cheating on him at Pendomium Heights flashed through his mind, and his expression turned even darker. Addison noticed his expression shift. His expression became darker and colder with each passing moment, radiating an unmistakable chill. I didn't do anything to anger him. "Nobody. Just a stranger." Lance glared at Addison, his eyes narrowed to slits. "A stranger? Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure," Addison replied, her tone growing more impatient. It was just a stranger. Why would she lie to him about that? Was Lance the one with the problem? Lance scrutinized every flicker of emotion on her face. When he saw nothing but calmness, he finally relaxed a little. "Then what about the man in the villa?" He never would have imagined that something like being cheated on would happen to him. It had been weighing on him for days now. He couldn't keep it in any longer. "Mm?" Addison looked confused. "What man?"