Arianna Stone blinked, momentarily stunned.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Maxwell King seemed entirely unaware that he had just said something earth-shattering. He acted as if nothing were amiss, calmly slicing his steak while pushing the appetizers toward her, his voice low and warm.

"Eat while it’s hot. It won't taste as good if it gets cold."

Arianna managed a soft, "…Right. I know."

Maxwell wanted to continue, but his phone buzzed on the table, cutting him off.

Spencer Miller: [Heard the big-shot Mr. King booked out the entire amusement park for the night.]

Maxwell: [Who told you that?]

Spencer: [Do I need to be told? I saw the midnight fireworks show with my own eyes. Not bad, kid. You’re really pulling out all the stops.]

Maxwell: "..."

He didn’t bother replying.

Spencer, likely bored, called him a few minutes later. Maxwell glanced at the screen, his expression neutral, and hung up.

A moment later, the phone buzzed again. After the second persistent ring, the noise was giving Maxwell a headache, so he finally answered.

Before stepping away to take the call, Maxwell looked at Arianna. "No rush on the gift. Take your time thinking about it; just tell me whenever you’ve decided."

With that, he turned and walked away, giving Arianna no room to decline. She sat there in a daze, watching his back disappear from view.

Arianna’s parents had divorced back when she was in grade school. Because of that, she had always harbored a deep-seated resistance to celebrating her birthday. Unlike other kids, she didn't have the typical family dynamic, and her birth itself had never been a cause for celebration.

But her grandmother had always made sure to mark the day.

She would prepare a table full of Arianna’s favorite dishes and a bowl of steaming, homemade noodles topped with fresh, vibrant greens and two perfectly round, fried eggs.

Once, when she was younger, her grandmother had caught a glimpse of her diary left open on the table. That day, the old woman had pulled her into a tight embrace, her hair, white as mountain mist, tickling Arianna's skin.

Her voice had been thick with emotion.

"Don't listen to their nonsense, child. Whoever says those hateful things doesn't know a thing. You are one of a kind. The day you were born, the whole family waited outside the delivery room. We had diapers, clothes, and blankets ready—we were all just waiting for you. When we heard you cry, your grandfather, your father, and I were so happy we were in tears. Everyone was fighting over who got to hold you first."

When she was a child, Arianna had a very rigid way of viewing herself. It was a self-preservation tactic. In this world, only her grandmother loved her—a selfless, unconditional love. Anyone else was merely superficial. Their affection was never pure; it was calculated, transactional, and had a price tag attached.

While this outlook was cold, it had kept her safe from bullying. Without parents to shield her, it was the only way she knew to survive and grow up in peace.

Even with Cameron Hughes, she had never truly believed he loved her deeply. He liked her, certainly, but "love" was far too strong a word. Before Arianna, he had cycled through several girlfriends. Cameron was a man of passing whims, and his approach to relationships was exactly the same.

Arianna knew this clearly. That was why, on the day she agreed to date him, she set a clear boundary: they could hold hands and hug, but nothing more until marriage.

She had truly liked him back then. Her request wasn't born out of being old-fashioned; she just wanted a pure, honest relationship—a bond of true sincerity that would last.

Who could have known it would end the way it did?

Back then, Cameron’s kindness was standard boyfriend fare. Sometimes, when he was trying to get her to drop her boundaries, he would turn on the charm even more.

And yet, in just these last two days, Maxwell’s kindness toward her had already far surpassed what Cameron had shown her in two years.

So, what was Maxwell’s angle? What did he want?

Arianna found it baffling. Nobody in this world was kind to a stranger without a reason.

***

"So, I heard you brought a date to the Henderson birthday gala today?"

On the second-floor terrace of the restaurant, Maxwell leaned against the railing, his silhouette sharp against the night sky, his shirt fluttering in the evening breeze.

At the question, he let out a faint laugh, not bothering to deny it. "Where did you hear that?"

"Hey, never mind where I heard it," Spencer replied, sounding even more intrigued on the other end. "I also heard the girl is a distant relative of the Hughes family?"

Maxwell: ...

What nonsense was this?

"If that’s all, I’m hanging up."

"Wait, don't! Can you stop hanging up on me for once?"

Maxwell said calmly, "I don't have the patience for your rumors."

"This isn't a rumor! Cameron Hughes said it himself. If you don't believe me, ask him. But..." Spencer left the sentence hanging, clearly enjoying the suspense.

Maxwell, playing along, didn't disconnect. "But what?"

Spencer lowered his voice, acting mysterious. "Word is, the girl is actually Cameron’s girlfriend."

Maxwell: "Hmm."

"What do you mean, 'hmm'?" Spencer paused, finally sensing something was off. "Wait, what is that supposed to mean?"

Maxwell corrected him coolly. "Not his girlfriend. His ex-girlfriend."

Spencer: "??"

Maxwell added, "She’s single now."

Spencer went silent for a few seconds before letting out a sharp curse. "Damn, so she really is his girl?!"

Maxwell narrowed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "I’ll say it one more time: *ex*-girlfriend."

He emphasized the "ex" with precise intent.

Having been friends with Maxwell for years, Spencer could hear the simmering, restrained annoyance in his tone. He quickly backpedaled. "Fine, fine. Ex-girlfriend. It’s an ex-girlfriend. My bad."

Maxwell finally seemed satisfied. "She has nothing to do with Cameron anymore, and she won't have anything to do with him in the future."

Though he was his best friend, Spencer couldn't hold back his true thoughts. "Hey, don't be so sure."

"Why not?"

There was a dangerous edge to Maxwell’s voice now.

Spencer licked his lips, offering some unwanted advice. "Girls are easily swayed, you know? You need to have some situational awareness. What if Cameron sweet-talks her and she ends up going back to him?"

"She won't," Maxwell said with absolute certainty.

"It’s not about her—it’s about how silver-tongued Cameron is. You know he’s a pro at charming women. And they did actually like each other once. It’s not rare for old flames to spark up again."

Spencer kept babbling. "That girl looked so sweet and gentle; she seems like the type to be easily swayed, especially if Cameron plays the victim... Anyway, good luck, brother."

Maxwell suddenly shifted the subject. "Where did you get her photo?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Is that the point? Someone sent it to me tonight. I just glanced at it."

"Send the photo to me."

Spencer: "..."

"And delete the copies you have saved."

"Why?" Spencer protested. "Can't I have a photo of a pretty girl?"

Maxwell’s tone left no room for negotiation. "I’m coming over to see you in a bit. I want to watch you delete them personally."

"...Damn, are you out of your mind?"