Isabella Li picked up her pistol and stepped out from behind her desk, walking slowly toward Ethan Wu.
Based on his understanding of Isabella, he estimated the chances of her actually shooting him at about 50%. In other words, she might just put a bullet through him, or she might not.
But Ethan continued to smile, unfazed.
He didn't even intend to reset time if she did pull the trigger.
It wasn't necessary—Isabella wouldn't hit him, especially at close range. In fact, the closer she got, the less likely she'd succeed. If she came within three meters, Ethan could subdue her instantly!
No one could get within three meters of him and make a successful attack. The skills he'd honed over a thousand years of repetition hadn't gone to waste.
"I must admit, you're… quite unique," Isabella remarked, her smile unbroken since it first appeared. "You've got courage, boldness, and you're so young. If you were to die now, it would be quite a loss."
It was hard to tell if she was threatening him.
She drew closer—three meters, then two, then one meter. Half a meter.
In an instant, Isabella raised her gun, pressing it to Ethan's forehead.
Ethan maintained his smile, looking calmly into her eyes.
His ability to read people told him all he needed to know. When someone raises a gun, he could always tell if they intended to fire. The moment Isabella aimed at him, he already knew—she wouldn't pull the trigger.
With her character, if she truly wanted to kill, she wouldn't play games. She'd shoot directly, emptying the magazine if necessary. Conversely, if she aimed without firing, she wouldn't pull the trigger at all.
"Aren't you afraid?" Isabella tilted her head, her tone playful.
"If you really wanted to kill me, you'd have called someone else in here. You sense the threat I pose, but you're not ready to go that far. This is just a joke to you, so why would I be afraid?" Ethan replied coolly.
Isabella narrowed her eyes, then broke into another smile, bright and radiant, like a clear morning in April.
"I really am starting to like you!" Isabella laughed. She set the gun on the coffee table, then pulled out a hair tie from her pocket.
Holding the tie in her mouth, she reached back with both hands, gathering her hair, and tied it into a ponytail.
She usually wore her hair down, perfectly straight, without a strand out of place—a subtle facade, much like the non-prescription gold-rimmed glasses she wore to project a cold and formidable image.
When Isabella tied her hair up, it usually meant she was at home—or in a relaxed state.
With her hair tied back, she turned and, without warning, sat in Ethan's lap. She wrapped her left arm around his neck, leaning close to his ear, as if they were intimate lovers.
With her right hand, she took out her phone and snapped a selfie.
Click!
The flash went off, capturing the shot.
Isabella examined the picture but paused, noticing that in the photo, Ethan had raised two fingers in a casual "peace" sign.
Ethan remained calm and smiling, clearly understanding the implication of the photo.
It all related to Dylan Ding. Isabella would find an opportunity to send this picture to Dylan, both to irk him and to confirm that Ethan wasn't working for him.
"Well then, starting today, you're my boyfriend. I'll have someone arrange for your employment here as my assistant. You won't need to do much—just accompany me to events occasionally. Salary included!" Isabella said, standing up as she finished.
She took the hair tie out, letting her hair fall loose again, giving it a slight shake.
Then she picked up the gun and returned to her desk, sitting down.
"So, tell me, what's happening with my brother?" Isabella asked, her tone cold.
It was as though they'd instantly reverted to being strangers.
Isabella's defenses were formidable. This was the first time Ethan had become Isabella's "boyfriend," although in countless "July 7ths," he'd already slept with her—purely physical, without any emotional involvement.
Ethan had always kept emotions out of his interactions with women, seeing every conquest merely as a pursuit of pleasure.
A romantic relationship with Isabella, however, was far more challenging than merely sleeping with her.
For Isabella, physical intimacy was not about submission; rather, it was her way of exercising control over men.
She had long sought to shed her "perfect" reputation. She wasn't certain she'd win the bet with Dylan, and if it came to marriage, she planned to indulge fully before wedding him, making sure to disgust him thoroughly.
She was simply waiting for the perfect opportunity to let loose.
Ethan had previously created such an opportunity for her and allowed her to choose him.
"Sea City's Crown Entertainment Club, Central Dynasty in Zhongyuan, and Red Ocean in South City—three top-tier entertainment clubs in the country. Your brother runs the Crown Club," Ethan began.
"Yes, and?" Isabella asked.
"The Crown has crossed the line, involving numerous elite wealthy clients and officials. Investigations began three months ago. Based on my intel, I estimate that the authorities will close in within a month," Ethan replied.
Isabella's expression shifted, stunned.
This was serious—very serious.
"Yes, this is about more than your brother. It's aimed at your entire family. When the net tightens, it won't be as simple as your brother going to jail," Ethan added. "Your family may need to publicly cut ties with him, distancing themselves entirely."
Isabella stood up, running a hand through her hair, pacing back and forth.
She was visibly anxious.
While she personally remained untainted, she was possibly the cleanest person in the Li family.
But her relationship with her brother was exceptionally close.
"Is your information accurate?" Isabella demanded, stopping abruptly.
"Are you doubting my intelligence capabilities?" Ethan smirked in response.
Isabella steadied herself, looking at Ethan as she picked up her phone and quickly dialed a number.
Meanwhile, at the Crown Entertainment Club's top-floor VIP suite in Sea City…
"He really wasn't one of yours? Well, that's strange! He dared to use your name and even knew my number. This guy has some nerve. He must have a death wish!" said a middle-aged man with a long face and a goatee, leaning on a cane and speaking deferentially to a dashing young man in a white shirt.
Behind him stood a bearded man with a bandaged hand.
The middle-aged man was the notorious Jack Zhao, known as "Grandpa Zhao" in Sea City's underworld.
The handsome young man across from him was none other than the legendary "Mr. Li."
Behind Jack Zhao stood Tom Liu, the man who'd had his finger cut off the previous night.
Jack Zhao had spent a sleepless night, filled with dread, before hurrying to see Mr. Li that morning to apologize, sincerely believing he had offended one of Mr. Li's people.
To his surprise, Mr. Li knew nothing of the incident and denied having sent anyone to contact Jack. Furthermore, he confirmed that none of his trusted associates were young men in their twenties.
"Using my name without permission… Zhao, what did this kid say?" Mr. Li glanced at Jack Zhao.
"He…" Jack was about to answer.
Ring, ring…
A phone rang.
Mr. Li held up a hand, pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and immediately answered with a smile, "Sis."
"Where are you?"
"At the club."
"I'm coming over—actually, never mind, I'll come find you. Wait for me."
"Sis, is it urgent?"
"Don't waste time. Beep… beep…"
Mr. Li stared at the disconnected call with a resigned smile; his sister had hung up on him again.
"My sister's coming over," Mr. Li told Jack Zhao.
"Then we'll… we'll head out…" Jack Zhao began, starting to rise.
"No need. Stay. You can leave once my sister arrives." Mr. Li waved him back down. "Tell me more about that punk. The bastard dared to use my name—I'll chop him up myself!"
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