Yvette hung up the phone. The three people at the door stared at her. Samuel, the general manager and young heir of Bamboo Hall, had only recently returned from abroad to take over the family business. He was striving to internationalize Bamboo Hall, actively seeking overseas collaborations to expand its reach.

Samuel gave Yvette a cold appraisal. He thought, She's pretty, but stupid. Withdrawing investments? What a joke!

"Miss," Samuel said, "that call was entirely fabricated. I don't know where you heard I was seeking investment or who you contacted. Do you even know what Bamboo Hall is? You think you can just waltz in here and act like this?"

The two girls, eager to impress Samuel, chimed in. "Miss," one said, "our manager already asked you to leave. Why are you still here, humiliating yourself?"

Another, taller girl added, "Miss, are you up to something?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Samuel, but hearing it from the taller girl inflated his vanity. He thought, Her looks and charm are undeniable. If she wants to be with me, I'll agree.

His attitude shifted. He looked at Yvette with an arrogant gaze. "Miss," he said, "if you want to date me, I'll agree, but today's not ideal. Mr. Owens is dining with an important guest shortly. Come back tomorrow, and we can talk then."

The two servants were furious. They'd expected Samuel to dislike Yvette, believing they'd served her up on a silver platter. They dared not complain openly, only glaring at Yvette, seething with resentment.

Yvette remained silent, observing their performance. Then, her eyes flashed with cold intensity, radiating a chilling aura. The two servants instinctively recoiled, intimidated by her gaze.

At that moment, Samuel's phone rang. Unaccountable nervousness washed over him. He relaxed upon seeing his father's name on the screen; it was probably another reminder to come home for dinner.

Before his father could speak, Samuel blurted out, "Dad, I told you I'm not coming home for dinner. Mr. Owens is here, and I'm busy at Bamboo Hall. Eat by yourself."

A loud, angry shout erupted from the other end, making the two servants tremble. "What have you been busy with all day? The investment deal with FastPulse Technologies fell through! Over a year's effort wasted. What happened? It was supposed to be a done deal! Something must have gone wrong. Investigate it immediately!"

Samuel, holding the phone, was shocked, suddenly recalling Yvette's call. His jaw clenched, his face flushed with anger. His voice trembled, stripped of its arrogance. "Dad, I know what happened. I'll talk to you later," he stammered, quickly hanging up.

The two servants, having overheard everything, remembered the previous scene and froze. They lowered their heads, ashamed, silent. They knew they'd offended someone important. It's over, they thought. We'll be fired.

Samuel was stunned. He'd never encountered Yvette in Betrico before, and he was shocked by her ability to derail the FastPulse Technologies investment so quickly. It was preposterous. Lucy Raglan, FastPulse's general manager, was known as an unyielding woman, impervious to influence.

Samuel gritted his teeth. He had no choice but to apologize. A little sweet-talking will work, he thought.

Adopting a gentlemanly demeanor, a stark contrast to his earlier arrogance, Samuel explained to Yvette, "Miss, I sincerely apologize for my rudeness. I was misled by these two servants and prejudiced against you. I'm truly sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me. I also apologize for my impulsiveness and hope it hasn't spoiled your evening."

He then turned and sternly addressed the two servants. "You two, apologize to this young lady. If she doesn't forgive you, you're fired. Pack your things and leave."

The servants, ignoring their dignity, burst into tears. "We're sorry, miss! We shouldn't have treated you so rudely. Please forgive us! We'll be ruined if we lose our jobs!"

Yvette, hands in her pockets, watched them casually, a cool smile playing on her lips. Ridiculous, she thought. Does an apology guarantee forgiveness?

All three believed their apologies had secured forgiveness, but Yvette's words shattered their hopes. "Forgive you?" she said. The three stared expectantly. Then, she continued, "No way."

The three were stunned. Samuel's anger was barely contained, but the thought of losing the FastPulse Technologies investment forced him to restrain himself, blaming the servants. Firing them should appease her, he reasoned.

Coldly, he said, "Since this young lady won't forgive you, don't blame me. Process your resignations. You're no longer employed at Bamboo Hall."

The servants, finally ceasing their tears, glared at Yvette with hatred but remained silent, waiting.

Samuel ignored them, focusing on salvaging the investment. With a large smile, he said, "Miss, I've taken care of them. Could you ask Ms. Raglan to reconsider withdrawing the investment? A partnership benefits both parties—it's a win-win situation. It would be a shame to let a minor issue ruin it." He believed he'd clearly laid out the situation's pros and cons.

Yvette raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her lips, her eyes icy. "Are you finished?"

Samuel nodded. "Miss, I don't know the extent of your relationship with Ms. Raglan, but the Lake family holds considerable influence in Betrico. Escalating this won't benefit you." His words were laced with veiled threats, yet he maintained a façade of respect. A clever game, he thought.