The waiter quickly followed Lance and asked, "Hi, do you have a reservation?" "My friend is inside. She made a reservation." "Understood. May I have her name, please?" "Addison Daves," Lance spoke the name with force, his tone heavy, as if he were looking for his enemy. Sensing the tension, the waiter wasted no time checking the system. Once she confirmed Addison's private room, she immediately led Lance to the door and left. As she made her way back to the bistro's entrance, she grabbed her radio and spoke in a hushed but urgent tone. "Heads up, everyone. A man just arrived at the Winter's End Private Room—it looks like he's here for trouble. Keep an eye on that room and be ready to prevent any fights or security incidents ... " Lance stood at the entrance. The door was ajar, and from inside, he could hear the rhythmic crash of waves against the cliffside. Addison sat by the window, her phone in hand, engaged in conversation. A few documents lay beside her, illuminated by the faint light filtering through the glass. The person on the other end must have said something amusing—her lips curled ever so slightly, forming a quiet, unreadable smile. It was subtle yet striking in its quiet beauty. At that moment, the anger in Lance's chest, which had been burning just moments ago, inexplicably faded. All he could see was Addison at work—her lowered gaze, the hint of a smile, the gentle lilt of her voice ... He even noticed how her eyelashes dipped slightly as she looked down, dark as raven feathers. The aura she carried—serene and restrained—was something not found in Virginia. Lance stood frozen, eyes fixed on Addison, and a thought surfaced in his mind—he didn't want a divorce. For the first time, he understood his own feelings. He had developed feelings for her. He stared at her for a long time, not knowing what she was reading or what work she was handling.The only thought running through his mind was—he didn't want a divorce. The truth was, ever since Addison had saved him that night in the car, something had shifted in him. He had been resisting the idea of divorce. But resistance was all it had been. He hadn't been sure what he truly felt. His emotions had been a tangled mess, and everything had been a blur. He didn't know whether he wanted a divorce. He couldn't even explain why the thought unsettled him so much. Lance had no proof that Addison was the girl from all those years ago, but there was something undeniably familiar about her ... With that thought in mind, his heart skipped a beat for her. He wanted to be sure, but he was afraid to confirm it. His thoughts were a tangled mess, a chaotic knot that refused to unravel, leaving him standing there like a motionless figure carved into stone. At that moment, he finally realized ... He genuinely didn't want a divorce.Whether Addison was that girl or not, he didn't want to let go. Lance's gaze shifted from uncertainty to conviction. He had never been so sure of anything in his life. His eyes gleamed with absolute clarity. He pushed open the door. Addison still seemed to be in the middle of work. She held her phone in one hand, speaking into it while lifting her eyes briefly to glance at Lance. Their gazes met, but Addison remained unfazed. She continued responding softly to the person on the other end of the call. Clearly—Lance wasn't someone important enough for her to set her work aside.