Roscoe remained quiet for a moment.

Thinking he had nothing more to say, Nicole thanked him again and was about to leave.

"Miss Lawrence." Roscoe halted her once more. Once Nicole came to a stop, he whispered, “Are you having money problems?"

Nicole shook her head and said, "No, I chose to work here myself. Thank you, Mr. Watts."

Then, she turned and walked inside. She knew her words might leave Roscoe with a poor impression of her. Since he had forgotten about her and their shared past, his opinion of her didn't matter that much. If he stayed out of her affairs, he would have a better life.

Nicole did it intentionally to make Roscoe misunderstand her. It was better for him to not remember her all the time. This was the last kindness she could offer him.

Watching Nicole's retreating figure, Roscoe was silent.

He couldn't fathom why she would work here. It didn't seem like a place for someone like Nicole. Yet, he didn't know Nicole's reasons for being here and thought it wise not to make assumptions.

His eyes trailed her slender figure. She was so thin. But she stood tall and determined, seeming unbeatable.

Roscoe's expression grew somber. It seemed that each time he saw her, the void in his heart felt a little less empty. He couldn't understand why, nor could he shake off the feeling.

Roscoe watched her enter through the gilded door before he started his car and drove away.

After Nicole walked in, the receptionist asked about who she was looking for.

The receptionist recognized Nicole when she introduced herself, and then made a quick phone call. Shortly after, an older woman, known as Jemma, emerged to greet Nicole. “Are you Nicole Lawrence?" she asked.

Nicole nodded.

With a cigarette hanging from her lips, Jemma sized Nicole up and instructed, “Come with me."

Jemma led Nicole to what seemed like a dressing room and then instructed someone to apply makeup to Nicole.

After getting Nicole's makeup done, Jemma had someone fetch her different clothes. When Nicole saw the revealing garments, she blushed and hesitantly asked, “Can I not wear this?"

The outfit was hardly a dress. It was just a few scraps of cloth stitched together, barely covering anything.

Jemma sneered, “You're here to work, not to shop. Put on what you're told!"

Nicole calmed herself and asked politely, "How should I address you?"