Dr. Nancy, a true prodigy in the pharmaceutical field, commanded respect effortlessly. Lance realized that arriving unannounced was hardly appropriate, but circumstances left him no other choice. He needed to finalize an agreement today. Johnston Enterprise was ready to accommodate Dr. Nancy's price, as long as she granted them the license. He stood at the lab door, his hand hovering in mid-air. For a moment, he hesitated. Then, gathering his resolve, he gave a tentative knock. There was no answer. Frowning, he knocked again, more firmly this time. Still nothing. Lance's brows drew together as unease flickered in his eyes. Through the small window on the door, he could see the lab's equipment humming away, yet the silence inside was unnerving. With a determined grip, he turned the handle and stepped inside. The lab was vast, its machines emitting a low, steady hum. Yet, there wasn't a single soul in sight. Impossible. He was certain Dr. Nancy was here. Had Shao Ming been mistaken? Was it possible her schedule had changed, and she no longer visited the lab on these days? Lance's expression grew grim as he surveyed the room. He took a slow step forward, his shoes clicking against the polished floor. But the emptiness remained absolute, save for the quiet hum of the machinery. He turned back toward the door, his movements heavy with disappointment. As he stepped into the hallway, a figure loomed in the periphery of his vision. His heart leaped. Could it be Dr. Nancy? Relief began to take root. Meeting her directly would secure the license without further delay. He lifted his head, ready to speak. But something wasn't right.He narrowed his eyes, studying the figure more closely. This wasn't Dr. Nancy. It was Addison. Addison had just reached the door, her hand barely brushing the handle when it swung open in front of her. She froze, startled. The man standing in the doorway was tall, his posture rigid. His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, exuding an air of sharp precision. His face was carved into a cold mask, leaving no room for softness or warmth. Lance? Addison froze, her mind racing. How could he be here? She blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. A wave of unease swept over her, a nagging fear that her carefully guarded secret might come to light. She had only stepped away for a moment. Just a moment. Yet now, when she returned, Lance was there—standing in the lab like he belonged. Their eyes locked. Lance's face was a thundercloud, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his hand closing around her arm as he pulled her outside. "What are you doing?!" Addison demanded, struggling against his grip. His hold was firm, giving her no room to resist. He led her down the hallway, his silence unnerving. They didn't stop until they reached the end of the corridor, where he finally released her. Addison jerked her arm free, glaring at him. "What do you want?" Lance's expression remained cold, his jaw tight. The air around him seemed to hum with tension, and his eyes held an intensity that made her stomach churn. "I've said this before," he began, his voice measured but heavy with meaning. There was no warmth in his tone, only a quiet, simmering anger. Addison frowned, genuinely confused. "Said what?" she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. She had no idea what he was talking about. Her confusion only seemed to irritate him further. His eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line as if he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. "Why do you always act like this?" he asked, his voice colder than before. There was something else beneath the surface, though—a flicker of disappointment. Addison held his gaze, her expression steady. "Act like what?" She didn't understand his accusations. Pretending wasn't her style. If anyone was guilty of that, it was Virginia, not her. "Addison." He said her name slowly, as though issuing a final warning. His anger was clear now, impossible to ignore. Addison remained silent, lifting her chin in quiet defiance. There was no point in explaining herself to someone who had already decided she was lying. "You act like you want a divorce," Lance said, his words cutting through the silence. "But it's all for show, isn't it? A game. Playing hard to get, pretending to push me away." He stepped closer, his frustration finally breaking through. "And now, I find you here, in this lab, still pretending? Do you take me for a fool?" Addison had followed him here. Lance was sure of it. Yet now, she stood before him, her wide eyes and innocent expression as if butter wouldn't melt. She blinked again, her confusion almost convincing. Almost. When had I ever claimed I didn't want a divorce? Lance studied her, his jaw tight. From where he stood, Addison appeared so naive, so delicate—uncannily like Virginia. His thoughts drifted back to that night at the family banquet. The moment he'd opened the door and seen her standing there. She'd been wearing a simple white dress, her face lightly made up, her entire presence understated and refined. The resemblance to Virginia had been striking. The memory churned his stomach. Had she done it on purpose? Was this some calculated attempt to mirror Virginia? Addison straightened her posture, pulling herself back to the present. "Why are you here?" she asked, her tone even. That was the real question, wasn't it? Keith had sworn this location was private, the kind of place no one could stumble upon. And yet, here Lance was. Keith was going to hear about this later. Lance's lips curled, his voice dripping with derision. "Why am I here?" The irony was laughable. She'd followed him, yet now she played coy, as though he were intruding. "I never realized before just how skilled you are at playing dumb," he said, his tone sharp. Addison sighed, exhaustion replacing her initial irritation. Talking to Lance felt pointless, like arguing with the wind. "This is the last time I'll say it," Lance continued, his voice steady but cutting. "There is nothing between us. There never was. I love Virginia. No matter how much you try to emulate her, it won't work." The overhead light cast his features in stark relief, the angles of his face sharper, colder. "Addison." He said her name with the weight of finality, like a sentence being handed down. "Your persistence is becoming a problem." Addison's temper sparked, and she fixed him with a sharp glare. "A problem? How, exactly, am I doing that?" "I signed the divorce papers," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. "I gave them to you. All you have to do is sign them too. Once you do, there's nothing left between us." If she'd wanted to hold on to him, she wouldn't have signed the papers. She wouldn't have gone out of her way to deliver them. She could have delayed, refused, or made excuses. But she hadn't. Lance let out a short, bitter laugh, his disdain unmistakable. He thought he understood. Addison, in her desperation, had realized his grandfather was using the CEO position as leverage against him. She must have thought signing the papers would prove something, would somehow win him over. He wasn't naive. But he kept his thoughts to himself. No matter how fractured their marriage had been, three years of shared history deserved some measure of grace. For her sake, if nothing else. But today, her actions had pushed a boundary Lance couldn't ignore. She had crossed a line, and he wasn't going to let it go unnoticed. "If you follow me again like this ... " Lance began, his voice steady but firm. He stopped, choosing his next words with precision. "Don't test me. If you do, I won't hold back for my mother's sake—I'll sign the divorce papers on the spot." Follow him? Addison almost let out a laugh. It stayed in her chest, unspoken but cutting. That was exactly the kind of accusation she expected from him. Anger no longer seemed worth her effort. She felt only a strange, detached surprise. Lance hadn't signed the papers yet. He had been the one pushing for the divorce. She recalled how he had personally delivered the divorce papers to her door, seemingly out of concern that she might reject them. His urgency to end their marriage had been palpable, driven by his desire to make things official with Virginia. And Virginia had consistently expressed her intentions, leaving clues at every opportunity. So why hadn't he signed? Her thoughts churned, trying to untangle the contradiction. Could it really be that his mother's opinion mattered so much? She doubted it. It didn't fit with the Lance she thought she knew. With a cold and even tone, she said, "If that's what's holding you back, sign the papers now. Don't use your mother as an excuse—it means nothing to me."