Upon hearing this, Yvette turned to Samuel; his brow furrowed, defiance etched on his face. Just then, a white car, followed by a black one, pulled up before the Bamboo Hall.

An impeccably dressed, elderly gentleman emerged from the white car, his gray hair neatly combed, attired in a costly, dark, patterned suit. A thin young boy followed, immediately drawing close to the older man, his head bowed, muttering inaudibly to himself. A bodyguard from the second car presented a cane.

The old man, accepting the cane, looked towards Yvette and Samuel on the steps. He could see only Yvette's back, but Samuel was in full view. He frowned slightly, noting Yvette's unperturbed demeanor. As Samuel was about to speak, the old man's arrival caught his attention.

Samuel hastily adjusted his suit and approached, adopting a respectful tone. "Mr. Owens, you've arrived. The private room is ready; I await you and your esteemed guests."

The old man was James, director of the Betrico National Physics Lab, one of Clusia's three most respected elders. A leading figure in Clusian physics, he'd studied abroad before returning to make significant contributions. He'd dedicated his life to Clusian physics projects, playing an indispensable role in its growth. Samuel had met him only twice. Even ten families like the Lakes wouldn't command the Owens' attention. Samuel's excessive friendliness toward James was a veiled message to Yvette, a subtle reminder of the Bamboo Hall's influence.

James, however, dismissed Samuel's overtures, unconcerned with the younger man's posturing. He tilted his head, smiling kindly at the mumbling boy. "Michael," he said softly, "come with me. You'll soon meet someone you've been eager to see."

Michael looked up, his clear, innocent eyes shining. He nodded excitedly, clutching James's sleeve. "Grandpa, let's hurry! I can't wait!"

Samuel sneered inwardly, thinking, "That boy, Michael, is probably the Owens family's fool. Poor James; his son and daughter-in-law died young, and his grandson was left mentally impaired in that accident."

Michael, sensing Samuel's hostility, recoiled, fearfully shaking his head. James, uncertain of Michael's reaction, reassured him.

Samuel seized the opportunity. "Mr. Owens, shall we proceed inside? Has your guest arrived? Do you require my assistance?"

James's eyes lit up as he watched Yvette slowly turn. He leaned on his cane, bypassing the waiting Samuel, and walked directly to Yvette. Michael followed closely, head down, mirroring his every step. A bewildered Samuel trailed behind.

Reaching Yvette, James's voice trembled slightly. "When did you arrive? Why no message? Have you been waiting long? Are you tired? Come inside; it's too sunny. You'll get sunburnt."

Samuel stopped, his face ashen, despair washing over him. FastPulse Technologies could be replaced, but Yvette's familiarity with James was a serious problem. If James learned what transpired, Bamboo Hall's future would be jeopardized. Few even met James; a conversation was practically unheard of.

Yvette remained calm, nodding politely. "Let's choose another," she said serenely.

James paused, turning to look at a visibly apprehensive Samuel. He sensed something amiss. His presence suddenly commanded even greater authority. A tap of his cane on the floor visibly flustered the distant Samuel.

Michael, staring at Yvette, shyly averted his gaze when their eyes met. He remained close to James, stealing furtive glances at Yvette, his eyes shining.

James stated, "Let's go elsewhere. We've dined at Bamboo Hall for years; it's time for a change."

Samuel collapsed, despairing. James was pivotal to Bamboo Hall's prestige. His calligraphy had initially attracted intellectual patronage. News of his departure would decimate their upscale clientele. The average person wouldn't spend $1.5 million on a membership. Samuel felt faint.

Yvette nodded subtly. Samuel watched, helpless, as the three departed. He shakily called his father.

"Dad," he said, "Bamboo Hall is finished."

Afterward, James chose a discreet, members-only restaurant. Though less opulent than Bamboo Hall, the food was superior. He dismissed his bodyguards, leaving only Yvette, James, and Michael in the private room.

James spoke first, a note of reflection in his voice. "Hello, Siren. I'd scarcely believe it were I not seeing you myself."

Yvette pursed her lips, her gaze downcast, fingers lightly holding her coffee cup. "Call me Yvette," she replied gently. "It was merely fortunate."

James waved his hand. "Yvette, foreign labs also researched new energy projects. Had you submitted your thesis and data to them, you'd have received significant rewards. Instead, you gave it anonymously to Simon for a place at Argrol University. An unfair trade. You could have entered Mysonna's top university, not an unknown one like Argrol. It speaks volumes about your patriotism."

Yvette took a sip of water, her eyes flickering. "No," she said.

James chuckled, his expression confident. "You can't deny it. Even if you did, I wouldn't believe you." Patriots, he mused, were always so humble. Yvette remained silent.