"That's... the same," Emily Blair murmured.

Albert Rivera studied her expression, then chuckled and handed her the menu. "Let's not overthink it. Why don't we order first?"

Emily managed to pick out a few dishes, her voice lacking energy.

She rubbed her eyes and, turning her head, happened to spot Tristan Davis walking in, trailed by his whole family—and that childhood friend of his.

Emily immediately straightened up in her seat.

They hadn't reserved a private room today, so they were eating in the main dining hall, seated by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The bustling street outside was just beyond the glass, and from where Emily sat, she had a clear view of everyone coming and going.

Tristan looked distinctly unhappy as he followed behind Steven Davis, whom Emily had met once before. Cynthia Rivera walked right beside Tristan, chattering non- stop.

Behind the three of them were two pairs of middle-aged couples-likely the parents of Tristan and Cynthia.

Emily found herself staring, lost in thought as she watched the group enter.

Albert called her name twice, but she didn't respond. Curiosity got the better of her, and she glanced over-only to catch sight of the woman from last night's scene.

"It's her?!"

By coincidence, Emily overheard Albert's exclamation and turned to ask, "Who do you mean?"

Albert, recalling the events of last night, still felt a pang of regret over that missing handkerchief. “That young woman over there she's the one who kept clinging to me all evening."

Now Emily understood; Albert was talking about Cynthia Rivera. "Oh, it's her."

Albert ventured, "Do you have a problem with her?"

Emily shook her head. "No, you don't need to bother with her. She's just a bit spoiled, but deep down, she's not a bad person."

"I see."

Albert nodded and glanced back at the approaching group.

As he studied the strikingly handsome man among them, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder: Was Emily watching the girl, or was her attention on the handsome man?

Just then, as Tristan Davis entered, a server arrived at Emily's table with their food.

Tristan glanced over absently, saw only the server's back as dishes were set down, and quickly looked away, following Steven Davis toward one of the private rooms.

Seated at their own table, Tristan focused on his meal, barely engaging with Cynthia, who was chattering at his side and constantly piling food onto his plate. He responded occasionally, but his tone was lukewarm at best.

Cynthia, undeterred, kept up her cheerful conversation, never missing a beat.

Meanwhile, Steven Davis and the parents on both sides were having a lively time, toasting each other and enjoying themselves.

Tristan felt increasingly irritable.

Everyone knew that, on the surface, today's dinner was to welcome his parents home, but in reality, it was nothing more than a matchmaking dinner for him and Cynthia Rivera.

He hadn't wanted to come at all. But earlier that morning, his grandfather had complained of chest pains, insisting that Tristan come to check on him.

Tristan had suspected Steven Davis was faking it, but he'd gone anyway—only to be dragged straight into this dinner.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Steven Davis steered the conversation toward the younger generation's marriages, eventually landing on Tristan and Cynthia.

He didn't push too hard, but said just enough: "Tristan and Cynthia are both at that age. It's time they started considering settling down. As parents, you really should keep an eye on things."