"Didn't you call me? I didn't react right away earlier, but I've come to my senses now, so I came to find you," Clayton replied meekly, keeping his head down. After the way the bodyguards had handled him earlier, whatever little defiance he had left had been thoroughly worn down. At this point, if the Johnstons told him to jump into a river, he wouldn't utter a word—he'd dive right in. Marilyn glanced at Clayton indifferently. After setting the notebook in her hands aside, she gestured for him to come closer. "Come here." Clayton hesitantly shuffled forward. "What do you need me for?" he asked cautiously. "It's nothing much." Marilyn casually picked up a wooden box from the table. Clayton's curiosity was piqued. He wanted to look up and see what it was, but then he suddenly remembered where he was—Johnston Residence. He quickly lowered his head again. Don'tlook, don'tlisten, don'task—thatwasthekeytosurviving in theJohnstonResidence. The moreyouknew, thefasteryoudied. Bettertostayignorant. Marilyn slowly opened the wooden box and gave it a quick glance before tossing it toward Clayton. Clayton instinctively reached out to catch it. Though he was naturally timid, his reflexes were still quick, and he managed to grab the box just in time. But he didn't dare open it. He didn't want to open it. Whatever was inside ... he wasn't curious. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. "Mrs. Marilyn, here's your box." He respectfully held the wooden box up and offered it back to Marilyn. "Aren't you going to open it and take a look?" "Me?" Clayton pointed at himself in disbelief. When Marilyn nodded, he quickly shook his head. "No, Mrs. Marilyn, I'd rather not." "You should keep it."Marilyn didn't take the box back. Instead, she calmly poured herself a cup of tea and spoke leisurely, "It's for you. Open it." "For me?" Clayton's brain completely short-circuited. For him? Was this real? His mental processor felt like it was overheating. That sentence echoed in his head repeatedly, yet he still couldn't understand. Why would Marilyn, who had nothing to do with him, suddenly give him something? Could it be some kind of the Johnstons' secret? The kind where he wouldn't live to see another day once he knew about it? "Mhm, it's for you. Go on, open it." Although Clayton was a hundred times unwilling, he couldn't ignore the fact that a group of superhuman-hearing bodyguards stood outside. And those bodyguards had guns. A chill ran down his spine. Forget it. Suppose he didn't accept it, with the way these bodyguards could hear a pin drop inside the manor. In that case, they'd probably have a gun to his neck within seconds, forcing him to take it anyway. If the Johnstons insisted on giving it to him, there was no way he could refuse. "Alright, Mrs. Marilyn, I'll open it now." He slowly lifted the lid of the box. Under the light, something gleamed with a soft, milky-white glow. Once the box was fully opened, he finally saw the object inside. It was a piece of white sapphire—pure white sapphire, to be exact. No, rather than a single piece of sapphire, it was seven or eight smaller pieces seamlessly joined together, held in place by delicate strands of red-gold filigree. Even without knowing its exact worth, one glance was enough to tell that the craftsmanship was extraordinary. Clayton was stunned. He was so stunned that he had completely forgotten where he was. His hand instinctively reached into the wooden box, lifting the white sapphire to examine it more closely.