Addison stood with her arms crossed, lightly twirling her phone in one hand. From a distance, she noticed a group of maids hurrying toward her, carrying something large and bulky. Their hunched postures piqued her curiosity, prompting her to glance up from her phone. As they drew nearer, she could see that the maids were holding heavy packages, while several bodyguards followed behind, each carrying clattering boxes. Addison gave the group a quick, uninterested look, assuming the boxes were filled with medicinal herbs, and turned her attention back to her phone. "Are you going to say something, or should I hang up?" she asked indifferently. The other end of the line was silent, except for the faint click of a lighter. Addison could almost imagine the smoke curling up from a freshly lit cigarette. She raised an eyebrow. She arched her brow. It was clear to her that Lance only smoked when something was deeply bothering him, but she didn't care about his problems. "Not saying anything? Fine, don't call me again. Virginia wouldn't like it anyway." Without hesitation, she ended the call decisively. Meanwhile, Lance sat alone in a dimly lit room. The curtains were drawn, and though it was nearly midday, the room was cloaked in darkness as if it were night. A lit cigarette rested between his fingers, the smoke curling around his sharp features. He stared blankly at his phone as the screen slowly faded to black, the act of being hung up on intensifying his already simmering anger. He hadn't imagined Addison would dare cut him off so abruptly. His expression hardened, but despite his attempt to keep calm, his clenched fist and the crushed cigarette betrayed his fury. The cigarette butt tumbled to the floor, landing near his shoe. Lance ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, his face blank as he stared at the stub. After a moment, he raised his foot and crushed it under his sole. The air in the room grew heavier, the somber mood seeping into every corner.... Addison ended the call and continued walking. Her stomach felt uncomfortable after being forced to eat too much at breakfast by her grandfather. She planned to return and rest for a while. However, she hadn't gone far when her way was blocked. Looking up, she recognized the same group from earlier. This time, she noticed what the maids were carrying—an assortment of clothes in various colors, each wrapped in plastic, making them appear bulky and heavy. This time, Addison finally saw clearly what the maids were holding in their hands. "Is there an issue?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. One of the maids stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Ms. Addison, these were prepared for you by Mr. Matthew," she explained while carefully unfolding the garments. "He thought your outfit was too light for the weather, so he asked us to bring you something warmer." Addison glanced down at her attire—a thin camisole paired with a lightweight cardigan she had thrown on in the morning.It was indeed not the warmest choice, and now that it was pointed out, she realized the chill in the air. Curious, she gave the clothes a closer look. To her surprise, they were all stylish, some even resembling the latest designs showcased by international supermodels. A gust of wind swept past, sending a shiver through her. The maid quickly stepped forward, draping a coat over her shoulders. "Please wear this, Ms. Addison. You might catch a cold," the maid urged. Addison slipped it on without a word. "Where did all of this come from?" she asked casually. Matthew had spent most of his life immersed in the study of medicinal herbs, leaving him far from a fashion expert. Even for a seasoned designer, gathering so many stylish outfits would have been a challenge. "These were taken from the storage room on Mr. Matthew's orders," the maid explained honestly. "The storage room?" Addison's brows furrowed. It didn't add up—how could a storage room contain such trendy clothing? Noticing Addison's doubtful expression, the maid hastily clarified, "Please don't misunderstand. These clothes were sent over recently by the Hamiltons. Mr. Matthew had no other place for them, so they were temporarily stored in the storage room. They're all new." She hesitated slightly, as if worried Addison might think the clothes were unclean. "The Hamiltons sent them?" Addison asked, confused. "Aren't they involved in computer research? Why would they send so many clothes?" The situation was undeniably odd. "You might not be aware, but Mrs. Hamilton is a renowned international designer. She sent these over," the maid added. Addison instinctively pursed her lips. "Mrs. Hamilton is a designer? And she sent these?" Her expression shifted. A memory flashed in her mind—she had just provoked Georgina moments earlier. Now, knowing those clothes came from the Hamiltons, she felt uneasy about wearing them. "Yes, is there an issue?" "No, nothing at all," Addison replied, feigning composure. "Please move them to the yard. Thanks."However, she hesitated and removed her coat as if avoiding something unpleasant. Unaware of Addison's reaction, the maids carried the clothes to her yard, followed by a group of bodyguards. "Wait a second! Where are you all going?" Addison called out, holding the coat she'd just taken off. The bodyguards stopped and lowered their heads. "Ms. Addison, there are more boxes of clothes from the Hamiltons. We're bringing them to your yard." Addison was dumbfounded. "More?" Her eyes swept over the bodyguards, and she suddenly recalled the mountain of boxes Matthew had delivered earlier. A headache loomed as she realized the sheer volume. She'd only been staying here for two days, yet the house was already overflowing with items Matthew had sent. At this rate, there wouldn't be space left for her to live—just piles of boxes. "Any specific instructions?" one of the bodyguards asked hesitantly. "Just take them inside," Addison replied reluctantly.Although she didn't want anything from the Hamiltons, she couldn't bring herself to disregard Matthew's gesture. So, she allowed them to move everything in. The sheer quantity of clothing and jewelry was overwhelming—enough to last several lifetimes. ... Meanwhile, Lance remained seated on the couch, unmoving. He stayed there for a long time, his anger gradually cooling as he regained his composure. Standing up, he flicked his cigarette into the trash, then sat back down, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Just this once. He would give Addison one last chance. But if she dared to hang up on him again ... Lance's hand tightened into a fist, his icy aura filling the room. His piercing gaze could send shivers down anyone's spine. Placing his phone on the table, he pressed the call button.The ringtone echoed softly through the room, a gentle melody like a lullaby. Expressionless, Lance waited as the phone rang. Seconds passed, and then the ringing stopped. The screen dimmed. Addison hadn't answered. "Addison ... how dare you!" Lance's patience snapped. He slammed his fist on the table, gripping the phone tightly before hurling it to the floor. The device hit the ground with a loud crash, shattering into pieces. Fragments scattered across the reddish carpet, the phone destroyed.