"Wow!" Draven couldn't help but gasp, staring at the suitcase full of bills. He looked no different than Grandet, clutching his gold on his deathbed—the same greed, the same sickening vibe. Annie took two steps back, moving quietly to stand behind him. "I'm rich... I'm really rich... No more running and hiding for the rest of my life!" Draven's rough, sun-darkened hands tenderly caressed the stacks of cash. He couldn't resist pulling out one bundle, his fingers flicking through it repeatedly. Suddenly, he sensed something was wrong. He pulled out the top bill from the stack. What was revealed underneath was nothing but plain white paper. Draven froze, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He hurriedly grabbed another stack. It was the same—only the top bill was real, the rest were all blank sheets! Realizing he'd been tricked, he raged, his eyes turning murderous. "Damn you, you dare screw with me?!" Annie didn't answer. She just stood silently behind him, a heavy sledgehammer now somehow in her grasp. "Damn you, you—" His words were cut short as a searing pain exploded in his back, as if something had brutally smashed into his spine. Darkness swam before his eyes. He lost all balance, pitching forward. His eyes widened in terror. Ahead lay the gaping maw of the concrete mixer pit, a drop of dozens of feet. Survival was impossible. "Ahhh—!" A scream echoed through the deserted factory, then stopped abruptly. Annie stood frozen, her face deathly pale, her eyes empty. The only sound in her ears was her own ragged breathing. She looked down at the sledgehammer in her hand, as if suddenly realizing what she had done. She flung it away violently, turned, and ran. But after a few steps, she turned back. She picked up the heavy hammer and refastened the suitcase. Deep breath. Another. By the time she got back to her car, she was calm. With a final glance at the factory, Annie started the car with trembling hands and drove away. Not long after Annie left, two burly men who had been lurking in the shadows hurried into the factory to investigate. "Where is he? We saw him go in with our own eyes," one whispered. The other frowned, walking over to the deep pit. He peered over the edge, and his face changed dramatically. Not daring to act on their own, they pulled out a phone and made a call. This Saturday was the start of the graduate school semester and also happened to be Bram's birthday. Gwen wanted to use the opportunity to make a good impression but was stuck with indecision over choosing a gift. "Darcy, what do you think Bram likes most?" Darcy thought about it but truly couldn't recall Bram having any particular passions. In her memory, his life was simple, almost austere—a strict routine between his dissertation and studies. She'd never seen him show interest in anything else. Gwen scrunched up her face, scratching her head. "Then what birthday present should I get him? My cousin has his collections—fine wine and watches. My dad's into antiques, especially paintings and calligraphy. But Bram? I'm totally clueless." Darcy said, "Just get him something practical a guy would use. Keep it useful and not too expensive."It sounded a bit casual, but Gwen also felt it was the best approach. Having received this "sage advice," she skipped off happily. Cindy walked over and clicked her tongue lightly. "Who would've thought? The little girl is quite devoted. After all this time, she's still hung up on that stubborn rock." Darcy chuckled, patting Cindy's shoulder and blinking. "You managed to 'tame' your own stubborn rock. Maybe Gwen can too." Cindy's cheeks flushed slightly. "It's not the same! We have—" Have what? They didn't really have anything defined yet. To this day, that guy hadn't said a word about his life in Valeridge. Or, the person Cindy minded the most—his ex-girlfriend. That evening, Darcy and Gwen went to the mall to pick out a gift. Cindy, having some rare free time, said she'd join them.Coincidentally, they ran into Annie and Jenna shopping with Jett. At the time, Gwen was still agonizing over what to buy. Darcy suggested something practical like a fountain pen, a mechanical keyboard, or a mouse. Cindy, however, was completely opposed. She raised an eyebrow at Gwen. "Do you still have feelings for him or not?" Gwen blinked. "I do." "Then listen to me. Buy himthat." The other two followed the direction of her pointed chin. A well-known men's underwear store. Still just a girl at heart, Gwen's cheeks instantly flushed bright red. Her lips moved hesitantly. "Th-that's not appropriate, is it? Too blunt." Cindy snapped her fingers. "Blunt is the point! Look, tech guys—don't be fooled by the clean-cut vibe, all prim and proper. Deep down, they're spicy as hell. You were way too shy before. From now on, be bold, be direct. Out-sauce him." Gwen nodded thoughtfully. "Kinda makes sense." Listening to their utterly brazen conversation, Darcy, standing beside them, could only twitch the corner of her mouth.