Yvette glanced at Howard with her dark eyes, leaning back unconcernedly, her long, straight legs crossed. In a cool, clear voice, she said, "Yeah."

Howard wasn't surprised she knew about the website. Ms. Zeller's mysterious nature sometimes left him feeling awestruck. Meeting her felt like an encounter with a celestial being.

He looked at her intently. "Ms. Zeller," he began, "why don't we place an order on Black Gold Web and hire the top assassin, Zola, as your bodyguard? Whatever the cost, to keep you safe."

Fearing a misunderstanding, he elaborated, "I heard Zola takes jobs based on personal inclination, but once accepted, they never fail. They have the highest success rate on Black Gold Web. People say Zola has a peculiar, unpredictable personality. No one knows their gender; they always wear a mask and use a voice modulator. Though, I guess Zola might be a man—this line of work seems more suited to men, right?"

He didn't know that two of the top three assassins on Black Gold Web were women. Regardless of the cost, he needed to ensure Yvette's safety.

Yvette lifted her gaze, pausing slightly before calmly glancing at the earnest Howard. Her delicate eyebrows rose. How can I protect myself? she thought. In a light, slow tone, she said, "No need, Howard. She won't take the job."

Howard was taken aback. Did Ms. Zeller express that too confidently? How could she know for sure? he wondered.

"Ms. Zeller," he said, "let's discuss this later. After all, we still have six months."

Yvette sensed his persistence. Oh well, I should make it clear, she sighed, thinking of avoiding being assigned to protect herself.

"Howard," she declared, "do you think there's a chance I'm actually the number one assassin, Zola, you've been talking about?"

"Ms. Zeller, you must be kidding," he replied instantly. "If you're Zola, then I must be the Eagle King, ranked second. Hahaha…"

Yvette hesitated, her eyes lowered, noticing his disbelief. She pinched her fingers slightly, a hint of helplessness in her voice. Looking him in the eye, she repeated slowly, "Howard, I really am Zola."

Howard thought she was trying to stop him from ordering from Black Gold Web. Ms. Zeller is really something. How have I never noticed this imaginative side of hers before? he mused. Should I play along? It's so rare for her to be this funny. Would it be rude not to?

He took a deep breath. Looking at Yvette with genuine sincerity, he said, "Ms. Zeller, I actually always forget to tell you, I'm the third-ranked assassin on Black Gold, Flying Fish. Do I look like one?"

He silently applauded himself. I'm playing along flawlessly…

This time, Yvette was taken aback. Seeing his struggle to suppress laughter, she felt a headache coming on. She picked up the orange juice and took a sip, her delicate fingers lightly tapping the glass's rim. Her voice, clear and cool, her eyes deep and clear as crystal, she said, "Howard, I'm actually Zola. When you went bankrupt, I was on a mission and happened to save you from jumping into the sea."

Howard's face, previously trying to maintain composure, froze. The glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor, water splashing everywhere. Neither noticed. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. His heart pounded.

Ms. Zeller is the top-ranked hitman on Black Gold Network? How thrilling! What a legendary figure! She gave me money without hesitation, invested in my company… and now she's calmly telling me she's a hitman? This world has gone mad! It wasn't Yvette who was crazy; it was Howard.

He believed her. So it isn't a joke? The most feared hitman on Black Gold Web, Zola, who never takes a contract for less than sixty-six million dollars, is actually Ms. Zeller?

Feeling inexplicably guilty, he took a deep breath, a slight, amused smile playing on his lips. "Ms. Zeller, you really scared me to death! With your status, I don't even know what to say. Just two words: 'Respect.'" He couldn't find others; that word encapsulated everything. Yvette was someone to be idolized.

Regaining his composure, he looked at Yvette calmly sipping orange juice. He twitched his eye, cleared his throat. "Well, Ms. Zeller, how many more surprises are you hiding? Why don't you just spill them all at once? I can… I can handle it."

His voice unconsciously rose several octaves. "Bring on the storm!"

His shout reached Liam, not far from the villa. He shivered, knowing that whenever Howard met Yvette, chaos ensued. He quickly grabbed his phone, ready to dial 911. He was on high alert, wondering if Yvette had done something to drive Howard mad. Liam debated intervening, but decided staying alive was more important. Howard would have to handle himself.

In the mansion, Yvette's eyes were half-closed, clear and focused, a stray strand of hair adding a touch of defiance to her appearance. Looking at the awkward Howard, she calmly said, "No, you can't handle it. Take it slow."

What does that imply about Ms. Zeller's status? Howard felt a bit choked, the words making him want to punch her. He decided not to think about it. Yvette was right; better to "take it slow."

Having calmed down, he looked at Yvette with a pleading expression. She lifted her eyelids, giving him a quick, indifferent glance. "Howard, just say what you want to say."

He sat up straight, adjusting his suit. He cleared his throat softly. "Ms. Zeller, do you think I have the potential to be a hitman?"

Yvette tapped her fingers on the table, pausing. Her lips curled into a barely-there smile. "No."

Seriously, what man doesn't dream of being a hero? Hasn't watched gangster movies? He'd wanted to be a leader for years; the urge to rebel still lingered.

Unwilling to give up, he asked, "Ms. Zeller, is there any other job in the hitman business I could do? Anything at all, I'm not picky, won't ask for a salary."