Don't most girls like to dress up and look their best? But here's Tiffany Kelley, naturally stunning, going out of her way to appear plain. "That's something I've never seen before," the servant thought.

Tiffany smiled, keeping her thoughts to herself. She was meeting someone very famous, and recognition would cause unnecessary trouble. Blending in was preferable, so she made herself as inconspicuous as possible.

With dowdy makeup, Tiffany arrived at the cafe. The server led her to a private booth, where Oliver was already seated, facing away.

"Hello," Tiffany greeted him.

Oliver turned. "Oh hello."

The two, meeting for the first time, stared for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Tiffany slid into her seat, her tone teasing and relaxed. "I didn't expect such a considerate move from the legendary director."

Across from her, Oliver sported an equally unkempt look: messy hair, thick glasses, and a patchy beard that made him look like a tired, middle-aged man—someone you'd easily overlook. No one would have guessed this unkempt man was the famous director with the golden touch.

Oliver chuckled. "Didn't want to cause a fuss, and I figured I might save you some trouble too. Seems like we both had the same idea."

Tiffany nodded, appreciating his effort. She liked him more already. She wasted no time getting to the point. "About what you mentioned in your email, I'm willing to hand over full rights to the story. But I have one condition."

"Go on."

"The casting has to go through me. Otherwise, there's no deal." Tiffany's tone was calm but firm. "It's not that I don't trust you. I just don't want anyone ruining the characters I've created."

Oliver hesitated, clearly torn. In his twenty years in the industry, no one had dared to make such a demand, much less threaten him with it. But he couldn't deny his captivation with the story. He'd stumbled across it the night before, and it had kept him awake all night. He wanted this story, badly. That's why he was there in person.

After considering, he replied, "But what if I'm not happy with who you choose?"

"Then we'll find a compromise."

"I'll have to think about it."

Oliver furrowed his brow, deep in thought. His instincts told him not to agree—he hated restrictions. But there was Tiffany, sipping her coffee leisurely, completely at ease. Even with her plain makeup, her elegance was undeniable. She possessed a natural poise that was captivating. He was impressed.

With years of experience reading people, Oliver knew Tiffany was special. He decided to gamble. "Alright, I agree."

They discussed payment. Oliver's offer was generous, but Tiffany waved it off, smiling. "If you need an investor, just let me know." Her casual nonchalance stunned Oliver. He wondered how she could be so confident. Before he could process it, Tiffany signed the contract and stood up to leave.

As she stepped out of the cafe, Tiffany ran into Richard, exiting his car with two sharp-looking executives. They seemed to be discussing a business deal.

Tiffany tried to slip past unnoticed, but Richard grabbed her collar. "And where do you think you're going?"

"I wasn't running away" Tiffany looked up, defeated. "How can you recognize me looking like this?"

Even her parents might not have recognized her. But Richard, unbothered by onlookers, easily picked her out. If anyone saw this, tomorrow's headlines might read: "Richard Hampton, Renowned for His Woman-Free Life, Shockingly Hugged by a Total Plain Jane!!"

Not just strangers would be surprised; even Richard's executives were visibly shocked. They'd assumed Richard's companion would be stunning.

One executive, trying to lighten the mood, said, "Mr. Hampton, I didn't realize you had such unique tastes. Maybe we should change our plans—skip the cafe and go somewhere more fun?"

Everyone understood the implication. Annoyed, Tiffany retorted, "Sir, you're rattling off nonsense like a machine gun—tat-tat-tat—so smoothly, just like your head!"

The executive realized he'd been subtly insulted. His face reddened. But before he could reply, he saw Richard's icy glare and swallowed his words, forcing a smile. "You got a good sense of humor, young lady."

Tiffany wasn't interested in arguing. "You've got things to do, right? Can I go now?"

"Let's go." Richard grabbed Tiffany's arm and led her to his car, leaving the executives behind.

Richard's assistant, Tyrone, smiled politely. "We'll reschedule," before hopping into the car.

In the backseat, Tiffany began wiping off her makeup. Her natural beauty reemerged, revealing luminous skin, arched brows, and striking eyes.

Richard glanced at her, a flash of admiration crossing his face. Unaware, Tiffany said, "Don't you have work to do? I can get home on my own."

"Not busy," Richard replied flatly. "Who were you meeting at the cafe? Why the disguise?"

"Do I really look that bad?" Tiffany dodged the question. "Tell me, do I?" Her large eyes glistened as she pouted, looking innocent.

Richard, at a loss, quickly answered, "No, you look great, as always."

"Really?" Tiffany ducked her head, feigning sulking, though pleased inside. Acting cute worked like a charm.

They returned to Richard's estate, where a lavish lunch awaited. Afterward, they leisurely returned to Lovell City.

As their private jet took off, the household staff watched silently.

High above the clouds, Tiffany rested in the airplane cabin.

Meanwhile, in a Traron City hospital, Victor Ashton anxiously looked around the moment he opened his eyes (The passage cuts off here.)