Emily paused for a split second, turning to look at Tristan.

He arched a brow at her, mouthing, "Let me handle this."

She couldn't help but curve her lips into a small smile.

There was no denying it—having someone stand up for her felt incredibly good.

Isabella's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. "Emily, don't tell me this is your boyfriend?"

Emily was about to retort that it was none of her business, but before she could speak, Tristan slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his voice cheerful and bold. "That's right. I'm Emily's boyfriend."

Emily nearly choked—“Emily, huh?" She tried not to react.

Still, she let Tristan take the lead. After all, there were times when his sharp tongue worked wonders.

Tristan flashed a dazzling smile. "Sorry if I was a bit blunt just now. I just can't stand to see my girl being treated unfairly, so I might've sounded harsh. Hope you don't mind, but your son was out of line. As her boyfriend, it's only right I say a few words to comfort Emily."

In a public setting like this, it was obvious Dennis had been rude to an adult. Isabella could hardly argue back.

Her smile wavered on her lips. "... Yes, Dennis was in the wrong."

Tristan grinned. “No worries. Emily's not the type to hold a grudge against a little brat."

Dennis bristled, shouting, "You're the brat!"

Isabella took a deep breath, lowering her voice. "Dennis, that's enough. Mind your manners."

The word "boyfriend?" suddenly broke the tension. It was Andrew, who'd been silent until now. His gaze was calm and dark, fixed on Emily, radiating a subtle pressure.

This time, she didn't need Tristan to jump in.

Emily gave a light chuckle. "That's right, boyfriend. What do you think, Mr. Lane— handsome enough?"

She emphasized the word "boyfriend," her expression offhand, as if she were just making small talk.

Tristan's eyes lit up. He squeezed her shoulder a little tighter, drawing her closer. "Of course he is—how could your boyfriend not be handsome?"

Tristan turned to Andrew, his tone easy and composed. "Mr. Lane, you remember me, don't you? We met just a few days ago."

Andrew's eyes narrowed, the look in them unreadable.

Emily, impatient, cut in. "We've got things to do, so we'll leave you to it."

Isabella exhaled in relief, forcing a smile. "That's fine. Go on, we're heading to

dinner anyway-Grandpa's waiting."

Emily nodded and started to walk away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the restaurant manager bowing respectfully

to Andrew and Isabella. “Mr. Lane, Mrs. Lane, right this way.”

At the sound of "Mrs. Lane," Isabella straightened, confidence returning to her posture. "Andrew, Dennis, let's go."

With that, the two groups parted ways. Emily's expression stayed serene, unaffected by the encounter.

She and Tristan took their seats opposite Arianna George.

"Ms. George, I'm back."

Arianna's eyes filled with emotion, a shimmer of tears at the corners. She looked Emily up and down, nodding in approval at her confident aura and stylish appearance. "Good, good. I'm so glad you're back. You've really made something of yourself, haven't you? I've followed your news all these years. You're a different person now. I couldn't be happier for you."