Meanwhile, fresh out of the shower, Rosalynn settled on the sofa, engrossed in her design draft.

A sudden doorbell interrupted her focus.

She abandoned her work, moving to the door to peer through the peephole.

Sanford stood there, supporting a clearly inebriated Brian.

What brought them to her doorstep at this hour?

She opened the door, questioning, “What brings you here?"

“Rosalynn, Brian's had a bit too much. Could you look after him?"

Sanford asked, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

Rosalynn's gaze flitted to Brian, taking in his flushed features and the clear signs of intoxication.

“He should be sent home, not here," Rosalynn reminded Sanford.

She had no intention of letting him stay.

“Rosalynn, I was sending him home. But it's empty. As his neighbor, could you help out?" Sanford suggested, pointing at the door across the hallway.

Rosalynn was taken aback.

“Do you mean Brian bought the apartment opposite mine?"

Was Brian the one who had spent ten million more buying the house?

"Yes, Brian splurged quite a bit on this place." Sanford attempted to put in a good word for Brian.

“What a fool,” Rosalynn scoffed.

Sanford merely raised an eyebrow, countering, "He just wanted to be closer to you."

He'd spent a fortune just to be nearer to her?

Rosalynn's heart fluttered, skipping a beat.

“Rosalynn, lend a hand, will you? Brian needs some nourishment, a hot soup perhaps. But I‘m hopeless in the kitchen."

Sanford guided Brian to the door to Brian‘s apartment, fumbling with the passcode.