Their client, Mr. Kent, appeared momentarily taken aback.

In an effort to apologize, he downed three glasses of wine.

Rena found herself at a loss for words, so she offered a smile instead...

Throughout the night, Waylen imbibed a considerable amount. Fortunately, the contract negotiation took place over the wine-laden table, surprising Rena. She had always assumed that Waylen's negotiating prowess was limited to the courtroom.

Unexpectedly, he also excelled at negotiating over drinks.

Hector, too, indulged in the wine but his tolerance was meager, and he needed support to return to the hotel halfway through the evening.

By the end of the dinner, Waylen was nearly intoxicated as well.

The driver helped him into the car and Rena sat beside him, feeling a twinge of unease.

Waylen was drunk.

Yet, he wasn't completely incapacitated. He extended his hand and patted Rena's shoulder.

"This is how business is conducted in the south. Especially with real estate developers; if they don't get you to drink a fair amount, it's hard to seal the deal."

Rena turned to look at him.

Though the car was dimly lit, his flushed face still exuded an alluring charm.

In a hushed voice, Rena inquired, "Why are you helping me?"

A profound silence enveloped the car...

Waylen covered his face with his arm, his eyes closed as he softly responded, "You are my wife. How could | stand idly by while you're trying so hard to get this project? And you just had a fever... Of course, | worry about you." ©

Waylen was affectionate.

Rena blushed and replied, “Don't talk nonsense. I'm not your wife."

Inside the car, the faint aroma of wine filled the air.

Leaning against the back of the seat, Waylen reached out to hold Rena’s hand. He touched the diamond ring on her finger and murmured, "You're still wearing the ring. If you're not my wife, then who is?"

Rena couldn't find the words to refute.

Waylen turned his head, gazing at her with gentle eyes...