Chapter 5 Unable to Refuse

Her gaze swept over everyone in the private room, lingering for half a second on the man seated in the center.

He wore a white shirt, suit pants, his legs crossed and a clearly defined hand holding a wine glass. The wine lightly swirled in the glass as he stared down, utterly bored, and completely unresponsive to the admiration and flattery of those beside him.

In the crowd, one's eyes could always instantly find him. His innate aura was gloomy and cold, even more resembling a king seated high and mighty in a palace, holding the power of life and death, and indifferently overlooking the mundane world.

Hannah withdrew her gaze, oblivious of the glance the man threw at her in the next second.

Arnold Simmons's attention briefly stayed on Hannah for a moment before shifting to Louis Snyder, who was closely following her. A hint of scorn turned up his lip, and he retracted his gaze.

The two of them headed towards the corner, attracting no one's attention.

Hannah walked ahead, her high heels lightly tapping the floor. The sound, which should scarcely have been noticeable in the private room, landed particularly clearly in Louis's ears.

Somewhat irritated, he moved his gaze away from Hannah's slender, fair legs, and chuckled, "Sister, you never used to wear clothes like this."

"What clothes?" Hannah spun around in front of Louis with a cocktail in her hand, appearing like a child eagerly awaiting praise, "Isn't this skirt pretty?"

Her voice was soft and sweet, with a low and seductive undertone that was hard to discern, more like a fairy dancing freely in a rose garden in the dark night.

Innocent yet alluring, that face which originally bore a resemblance to Tiffany Lynch was slowly losing her likeness.

This was unlike the typical Hannah Winter.

Carrying a face so similar to Tiffany's, how could she display such a demeanor?

With a frown, Louis maintained his usual obedient tone displaying enough deceit, "Sister, I don't like it. Change it next time."

Hannah just smiled, remaining silent as she looked at Louis, who bore a resemblance to George River – a bittersweet acknowledgment.

Two pitiful individuals, it's a shame one gave their whole heart while the other toyed with it.

"Alright." Hannah murmured, her joyous expression slowly faded.

The Hannah in the story would never refuse any of Louis's requests.

Allowing the man to dress her more and more like Tiffany Lynch, becoming a complete substitute for that woman. It could be said, this is what everyone wanted to see.

An acceptable substitute.

Hannah's compliance satisfied Louis, but he didn't show it. He began introducing Hannah to the privileged second-generation rich kids in the room, singling out one person.

The second son of the Taylor Family, Oliver Taylor.

A notorious playboy, average looking, with a never-ending series of different women by his side. But there was one thing, he was often extraordinarily generous.

Especially towards beautiful women.

Under the dim lights, the man's slightly round eyes curved as he looked at the woman before him. His voice carried an intentional, youthful tenderness, "Sister, Young Master Taylor is investing in 'Falling Spring', I want to try it."

Hannah glanced at him, under the shadow her expression was ambiguous as she cautiously queried, "There are no other ways?"

Louis shook his head, "Sister, you know my agent has never had his heart set on me. Even the resources I've worked hard for are given to others by him, he would never help me."