What's going on? Tiffany wondered, blinking in confusion. She couldn't grasp the situation, but there was no time to dwell on it. The old man before her was in critical condition; if she didn't act fast, he would die.

"Hang in there," Tiffany said, helping the man up. "We'll get you to the hospital." While doing so, she avoided Richard's gaze and discreetly slipped a pill into the old man's mouth. The pill would stabilize his heart, buy him time, and help heal his wounds.

The old man, already on the brink, fainted after unconsciously swallowing the pill. Just before losing consciousness, he struggled to raise his hand, as if reaching for Tiffany. She hesitated, watching his consciousness slip away, his hand falling limp. She wondered if she imagined it, or if she had seen guilt and desperation in his eyes. The sight left her unsettled.

Tiffany turned to Richard, but his expression was unreadable, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" she asked.

Before Richard could answer, several cars pulled up nearby. People rushed out, frantically searching and calling. They seemed to be there to rescue the old man.

Tiffany had done her part. The old man had appeared to be in critical condition, but she knew he would survive. Without hesitation, she grabbed Richard's arm. "Let's go."

They quickly left, climbing into their car. As Tiffany glanced back, she saw the rescuers carefully lifting the old man and rushing him to the hospital. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Thinking back to Richard's earlier hesitation, she curiously asked, "By the way, do you know who that old man was?"

"Yeah," Richard leaned back, his tone casual. "That was Victor Ashton, head of the Ashton family, one of the four prominent families in Traron City."

Tiffany's eyes widened. No wonder, she thought. The alley had been too dark, and in the urgency of saving him, she hadn't paid much attention to his attire. Now, she realized he'd been wearing an exquisite, intricately embroidered outfit—clearly belonging to someone of wealth and status.

What was someone as important as Victor Ashton doing, injured and alone on the street? she wondered. His wounds were so severe that if I hadn't been there, not even the best doctors could have saved him. Her curiosity lingered, but she shrugged it off as a random incident, a weird detour in her day.

Seeing Tiffany's indifferent reaction to saving such a prominent figure, Richard raised an eyebrow. "Why leave so quickly? If you'd stayed, Victor would surely have repaid you once he regained consciousness. As head of the most prestigious family in Traron City, whatever Victor could offer would be significant. Especially since you're Philip's successor, it could only benefit you."

Tiffany waved her hand dismissively. "I didn't do anything special. Why should I take credit for that?" Even knowing his identity, she would have still left.

Richard chuckled, looking at her with amusement. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention, Victor isn't just any old man. He's the real owner of the Treasure Tower." The Ashton family was not only well-connected but also immensely wealthy.

Tiffany was stunned, then felt like kicking herself. Wow, what a missed opportunity! she thought. I saved the life of the head of a powerful family, and no one even knows! Feeling deflated, she looked at Richard with a desperate expression. "You should have told me sooner…"

(Chapter 179 continues…)

Although Tiffany wasn't struggling financially—having turned a couple of diamond mines into hundreds of millions and owning shops all over town—there was no comparison to the Ashton family's wealth. They owned the Treasure Tower, an endless gold mine. The more she thought about it, the more she regretted leaving.

Tiffany nudged Richard playfully. "Hey, do you think I can make it back in time?"

Richard stifled a laugh. "Sweetheart, if you need money, I can help you." He handed her a sleek black card—a top-tier Royal Tower black card, one of a kind, worth half a conglomerate. Tiffany could spend freely, enough to buy the Treasure Tower outright.

She looked taken aback. "What are you giving me this for? I'm not short on cash." She pushed the card back.

But Richard insisted, "Take it. You can't possibly spend all of it anyway."

Tiffany blinked, realizing Richard was the only person who could say that with confidence. She spent money far slower than he made it. This card held enough funds to rival half a conglomerate—a truly endless source of wealth. However, she didn't want to accept it; it felt like being kept. Seeing her firm refusal, Richard didn't push further.

When they returned to the estate, the rain poured even harder. After showering and changing, Tiffany listened to the soothing sound of the rain and fell into a peaceful sleep. Philip had stayed in Traron City. On their departure day, only Richard and Tiffany left together.

After breakfast at 9 a.m., Richard left for an errand, planning to return to Lovell City by afternoon.

Tiffany settled into a comfy chair with her laptop, continuing to write her story. She'd been updating daily, and her audience was steadily growing. It gave her a sense of accomplishment.

Just as she was about to shut down her laptop, she noticed an email from someone claiming to be a director interested in buying her story for a film adaptation. At first, she dismissed it. But then, she received another email with a short video attached. Curiosity piqued, she clicked to watch. To her surprise, it was Oliver Fraser, a renowned international director.

In his forties, Oliver was celebrated inside and outside the industry. Anything he touched turned to gold; he was known for his dedication and unique vision. He had a knack for creating stars, and his productions always received rave reviews, making him a ratings powerhouse.

Tiffany finished watching the video. Oliver had left his contact information, expressing his desire to meet to discuss buying the rights to her story. Coincidentally, he was in Traron City.

After a moment's thought, Tiffany agreed to the meeting. They arranged to meet in a private room at a local cafe.

Before leaving, she put on some makeup, intentionally making herself look less attractive, and donned oversized black-frame glasses. As she was about to leave the mansion, a servant curiously asked, "Miss, what's with the outfit today?"

I removed the suspicious advertising text at the end. I also standardized punctuation and grammar throughout. The story flows much better now.