Emily wasn't naive. Before coming to this meeting today, she had considered that the woman she was about to face could very well be Satan's beloved. But when Penelope looked at her with a calm smile, Emily still felt her heart plummet. "Penelope," Emily took a deep breath, "there’s no need to tell me about your past with him. Everyone has a past." Penelope raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. "You're right, everyone does have a past. But do you really deserve him? You’re Nathan’s ex-wife, and everyone in New York knows that. Now you’re going to marry his brother? Even if you don’t care, you should at least consider his reputation." Emily suddenly smiled. "Reputation? The most useless thing in the world is reputation. Penelope, I came here today to hear about Emma, not to listen to you talk about your past with him. If you’re not going to talk about Emma, then there’s no need for us to continue this conversation. This one's on me, as his fiancée. Treating one of his exes to coffee is no problem at all." Before the hot milk could arrive, Emily stood up and walked to the counter to pay. Penelope grabbed her and pushed her back into the seat. Her demeanor changed from poised and elegant to dark and terrifying. "Emily, you stole my man. You’re a homewrecker!" "Your man?" Emily felt a surge of anger. "Is he your husband?" "When you called today, he was right beside me. He told me not to answer your call. Is there any doubt about his attitude?" Emily raised an eyebrow and pushed Penelope's hand away forcefully, looking at her with interest. "Penelope, if you're trying to drive a wedge between us, you're picking the wrong person. If Mr. Satan still had feelings for you, you wouldn't have asked to meet me today. You went through a lot of trouble and used Emma as an excuse to lure me here because you’re insecure, right?" Penelope was about to speak, but Emily cut her off with a mocking laugh. "Penelope, hold on, I haven't finished. Your clothes and makeup are high-end, not cheap. But your makeup style isn’t sophisticated; I’ve seen it in nightclubs... No offense, we might look alike, but your demeanor and behavior show you don’t belong to high society. If I'm not mistaken, you work at a nightclub, right?" Penelope laughed angrily. "Emily, what are you trying to say? Are you implying I’m lowly? Are you any better?" "Whether I’m better or not, Mr. Satan knows. You don’t need to worry about that," Emily said calmly. "I’m not here to judge your character. These matters should be handled by Mr. Satan. As a pregnant woman, I have no interest in these disputes. I want to say that I’m carrying his child. If he wants to leave me, he should tell me himself." Though they sat poised, the tension between them was palpable throughout the café. The waiter, standing by for a while, finally approached when they paused. He quickly placed the hot milk in front of Emily. "Miss, here’s your hot milk." Emily smiled warmly and nodded. "Thank you." "You're welcome..." The waiter quickly left the scene. The hot milk gave off a faint aroma, but Emily didn’t touch it. "Penelope, call him now." Emily tapped her fingers on the table. "If you’re so sure he loves you, let him come and tell me. I’ll leave right away, or he can tell me over the phone—" She looked straight into Penelope’s eyes and said coldly, "Right now." Penelope hadn’t expected Emily to be so difficult. In her plan, Emily would argue or even throw hot coffee on her new cashmere coat. No matter. A coat worth tens of thousands was worth Emily and Simon breaking up. But Emily seemed to see through everything first. She spoke unhurriedly, exuding an aura far above her worn-out clothes, each word pressing Penelope down. Emily smirked. "Why aren’t you calling?" "I..." Penelope frowned in frustration. "My phone’s out of battery." "Oh, that’s fine. I can lend you my charger." Emily pulled out her phone and placed it on the table, pushing it toward Penelope. "Or you can use my phone to call." Cornered, Penelope gritted her teeth in anger. "Emily, don’t you think your behavior is over the line? What makes you different from your homewrecker cousin? You both think having a baby can force the real wife out!" "The real wife?" Emily shook her head. "Whether you’re his wife or not needs to be confirmed by Mr. Satan. Go ahead and call if you’re really confident." Penelope suddenly laughed coldly. "You think I won’t dare?" "I think you won’t," Emily smiled. "So, make the call now."Just then, the phone on the table rang. Penelope glanced at the screen, her face turning pale instantly. Five letters. Satan. Emily asked her, "He’s calling, Penelope. Have you made up your mind? Are you going to answer, or should I?"