After switching to flat shoes, Emily felt much lighter on her feet. However... Both of them were still dressed in formal business attire—she in a blouse and A-line skirt, and Satan in a full suit. No matter how you looked at it, the sneakers on their feet didn't quite match their outfits. Satan didn’t seem to mind at all. He looked at her and asked, “What do you need to buy, Emily?” His voice was so hoarse that a nearby child couldn’t stop staring at him. Emily stepped in front of him, blocking the child's view. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back soon.” “Where are you going?” But before Satan could stop her, she had already dashed off. In less than five minutes, she returned with a cup of hot soy milk, handing it to him. “Drink this—it’ll help soothe your throat.” Satan glanced at the logo on the cup. “Was the store far?” “No, it’s just outside the supermarket. I saw it when we arrived.” Satan nodded, taking a large gulp, and immediately felt the warmth spread through his throat, soothing the irritation. Emily smiled. “There’s not much in one cup. You might as well finish it.” He didn’t argue and obediently finished the drink. The rich taste of soy, mixed with a hint of jujube, was sweet and comforting, perfect for a cold winter day. After finishing, he swirled the empty cup and playfully reported, “I’ve finished it.” Emily pointed toward a nearby trash can. He walked over to dispose of the cup before returning to her side, reaching out to take her hand. But Emily, ever elusive, moved away to grab a shopping cart. It was the supermarket's peak shopping hour, and the place was packed. The aisles were crowded with people, making it hard to maneuver their cart through the store. “Do you need towels?” he asked. Emily nodded. “Yes, towels, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and soap. My uncle never got used to using body wash, so he still prefers soap.” After picking out the necessary household items, they grabbed some fresh fruits and vegetables before heading to the checkout. Satan squinted his eyes and motioned with his chin, “Emily, look over there.” Following his gaze, Emily saw two familiar figures—two middle-aged women in their fifties. One was dressed shabbily, and Emily immediately recognized her as Grace. But the woman beside her wasn’t Sophia; it was Mandy, dressed extravagantly despite her short stature. “Mandy?” Emily was surprised. “She’s still associating with Grace?” Satan replied, “It might not be fair to call it an association. More like she’s Grace’s personal ATM.” Emily frowned in disbelief. “Why would Mandy still keep Grace around after all the times she’s been used? How can she forgive her?” “I’m not sure. Mandy hasn’t been very popular in high society. She might not have any real friends, and Grace is probably the only one who bothers to flatter her,” Satan explained. “Honestly, the money’s not a big deal. She’s been with my father for almost thirty years, and they have two kids together. She can have as much as she wants, as long as she doesn’t let Grace manipulate her again.” They both knew that with Mandy's lack of judgment, Grace would undoubtedly take advantage of her once more. “Are Grace and Sophia still living in that nightclub?” Emily asked. Satan nodded. “Why, are you feeling sympathetic?” Emily quickly denied it. “No, I could never feel sympathy for them—not after what they did to my mother and my unborn child. I’ll never forgive them.” At the mention of their child, Satan’s face tensed with a flash of pain. The loss of their child was a wound neither of them could fully heal. “And this time,” Emily continued, “they burned down my childhood home, the place where my mother lived and where I grew up. Whatever their reason, I won’t let them off.” After paying for their groceries, they left the supermarket, the night sky now completely dark. With the crowd moving around them, Satan shielded Emily as they made their way back to the Hilton Hotel. He didn’t let go of her until they reached the hotel lobby. He escorted her to her room door, waiting as she unlocked it.“Emily,” he called. She turned around. Satan said, “I spoke with Grandma about the wedding. She wanted me to ask if you have any specific customs or requests. She said she’ll make sure everything is done according to your wishes.” Each place had its own wedding traditions, but to be honest, Emily didn’t have any family left in New York, and she had never attended a wedding herself. Her mother had passed away early, so Emily wasn’t familiar with wedding customs or the usual procedures. “Let’s keep it simple,” Emily said. “Something understated.” Satan noted her response. “Got it.” “It’ll just be Bert attending on my side. I don’t have any other relatives, so there’s no need to prepare much.” Satan nodded. “What about the wedding dress, shoes, and bouquet? You should take some time to choose, and once you’ve decided, I’ll handle the rest.” Emily shook her head. “This wedding is mainly for Grandma’s sake. Let her pick those things. She has great taste. Whatever she chooses will be perfect. I’m fine with it.” “Emily…” “Go rest early. And thank you for the shoes today.” Back in her room, Emily unpacked everything they’d bought, carefully organizing it on the coffee table. Bert walked out of the bedroom, looking around. “Emily, has Vincent come by?” “No, why?” “I can smell him,” Bert said, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve got his scent all over you.” Emily raised her arm to sniff herself, detecting nothing but the scent of fresh laundry detergent. Bert was convinced. “Did you two go on a date?” Emily avoided his gaze. “No.” “Oh, come on! Why are you embarrassed?” Bert teased, clearly enjoying the moment. “You two can’t seem to stay apart! He’s barely left you, and here he is, coming to find you already. Looks like he’s really smitten…”Emily’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Uncle…” “Alright, alright. You’re getting married soon. Why blush over this? And anyway, the more he’s invested in you, the more confident I feel about handing you over to him.” After putting everything away, Emily grabbed her pajamas from the bedroom. “Uncle, I bought some porridge. Just heat it up in the microwave. I’m going to take a shower.” “Have you eaten?” “I already ate.” “Liar. I bet you haven’t,” Bert muttered, heading to the kitchen with two containers of porridge in hand. “That Vincent—how can you take a girl out and not even take her to dinner…”