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    As Brian’s breathing steadied into sleep, Jessica opened her eyes. Having endured her bouts of insomnia, she was an expert at both feigning sleep and detecting when others did the same.

    Last night’s discovery that Brian still struggled to fall asleep even beside her had solidified her décision to bridge the distance between them. Judging by his peaceful expression now, she knew she had made the right call.

    She thought, ‘This is enough.‘ Curled against his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat, she soon

    drifted off as well.

    The two of them slept through until morning, both looking refreshed and rxed.

    Brian’s face lit up when he realized Jessica hadn’t pushed him away. His joy was so palpable.

    Riding the high, he first updated Wesley on their progress, then posted candid shots of their morning- Jessica feeding him fruit, their hands intertwined–to Twitter.

    Theizens were surprised as usual. [Stop showing off. We get it. You’re in love.]

    [That’s so cruel ito /isingles.]

    [Admit it. You made this ount just to unt your love life.]

    [Totally! He’s a serial oversharer.]

    [Is this what true love looks like?]

    [So sweet it hurts.]

    [Check trending. They’ve

    I again.

    [Wait, what now?]

    [Someone caught Ms. Grant feeding him. I’m jealous.]

    [What? Let me see.]

    [Same here. Usually it’s him feeding her, but now she’s taking the initiative.]

    [They’re definitely back together.]

    b[/b100%. They can’t keep posting like this and not end up back together.]

    Netizens rushed to check out thetest trending tweet. No one was surprised to see it hit the itop/i. It had

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    be normal.

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    Brian and Jessica didn’t mind being photographed in their casual outings routinely. As long as paparazzi or strangers didn’t intrude too much, they simply ignored it. There were always plenty of candid shots circting online, more than most A–listers.

    Besides, they already had so many followers. The moment anyone posted new pictures of them, those

    photos would trend across social media.

    Netizens flooded thements: [Mr. Atkinson and Ms. Grant are wearing matching outfits.]

    [I rmended this brand to himst week, but I never thought he’d buy it iso /ifast.]

    [Ms. Grant is so indulgent with him.]

    [So when are they getting back together?]

    [Seriously, with all this PDA, just hurry up and remarry already.]

    [Forget the remarriage. Where can I buy those matching sets? They look amazing.]

    [Right. They pull it off better than models. Link please!]

    [Same. I know I won’t look as good, but I just need that couple set.]

    [Found it. Link here.]

    [Thanks. Buying it now.]

    Within minutes, the online store’s inventory sold out.

    The shop owner, thrilled, immediately restocked while leaving a gratefulment under Brian’s tweet,

    along with a discreet DM pitching a potential coboration. He knew the chances of Brian epting were

    slim, but it never hurt ito /itry.

    Brian saw it and simply ignored it. His posts were just personal moments, not ad space.

    The Atkinson Group’s marketing team watched the trending hashtags with envy, practically salivating at the thought of Brian and Jessica endorsing products, even a casual mention would’ve sent sales skyrocketing. But Brian and Gavin had firmly vetoed anymercial coborations.

    Sighing, the team packed up ifor /ithe day, only to encounter chaos in the lobby. Two middle–aged strangers were arguing with the receptionist.

    “I’ve told you a hundred times. Madeline hasn’t worked here. Are you deaf?” The receptionist was at her wits‘ end. Peter and Grace had been harassing her daily, demanding proof and even threatening to involve

    Brian.

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    Peter raised his voice. “You expect us to believe that without proof? If Madeline’s not here, let us go up and check for ourselves.”

    Grace sneered, “Watch your tone. My daughter is close to the CEO. She could have you fired.”

    Nearby employees stifledughter.

    The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m terrified. Call her right now, or get out. Next time, I’ll call the police.”

    The receptionist had had enough. She thought, ‘I just want to go home. If they don’t leave soon, I’ll call the police. Even if Mr. Atkinson finds out, he won’t me me. I’m protecting his reputation.‘

    The threat worked. Peter and Grace, knowing they were in the wrong, finally slunk off, muttering, “Who does she think she is? This little bitch.”

    “Who do they think they are?” the receptionist shot back.

    Her colleagues rallied around her, venting about the absurd encounter.

    *****

    Peter and Grace, still fuming from their failed confrontation at Atkinson Group, arrived home, only to find

    Sean waiting at their doorstep.

    Peter’s face paled, but he quickly forced a smile. “Sean! What a… surprise. What brings you here?”

    Sean scoffed, “Cut the crap. Where’s your daughter? I’ve waited long enough.”

    “She… She’s on a business trip abroad,” Peter stammered, improvising wildly. “Don’t worry. The moment

    she returns, I’ll send her straight to you.”

    Sean narrowed his eyes. “Abroad? That’s not what you told mest time.”

    “I just knew it. Trust me, she’ll be back soon,” Peter promised, sweating under Sean’s scrutiny.

    “You’ve got ten days,” Sean growled. “Send me Madeline, or I want my money back.”

    Internally, he scoffed, ‘With my wealth, I could have any beauty. I only paid extra ifor /iMadeline because of

    her pretty face and elite degree.‘

    Seeing no other choice, Peter agreed hastily. “I’ll deliver her ito /iyou in ten days. I promise.”

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