For a hot second, Tiffany thought she was a goner. But the lights didn't go out. Instead of feeling a sharp pain, she heard a sharp ping, like two swords clashing.

Tiffany's eyes flew open to find an arrow and an iron ball at her feet. Glancing back, she saw a gaping hole in the middle of the large window—the fancy floor-to-ceiling window, meant for guests to enjoy the view, had become a sniper's perfect opportunity.

Tiffany didn't want to think about where she would be if Richard hadn't intervened with that arrow. It gave her the creeps.

"We're out of here," Richard said, picking up his bow and arrow and taking Tiffany's hand. He was ready to leave.

Tiffany's palm was damp with sweat; she was still shaken by his earlier action. There hadn't been time to explain in the heat of the moment. To reassure her, he gently tightened his grip on her hand.

Tiffany's heart pounded. Anyone would be shaken after such an ordeal. She'd even thought Richard was trying to kill her.

Luckily, it was a misunderstanding. But the iron ball had severely damaged the thick glass. "Was it meant for me, or was Richard the target?" she wondered.

"Richard," Tiffany asked, "is someone after you?"

"Since when are you so familiar with my name?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice smooth as honey.

Tiffany rubbed her nose, feeling sheepish. "Well, we're in the same boat now, right? So maybe we can be a little less formal?"

She often used a more playful tone when trying to appease him; usually, she was more formal.

The corners of Richard's mouth turned upward. "Sure thing," he said. He found her voice pleasant, regardless of how she addressed him.

"You're dodging the question," Tiffany pressed.

"There are always troublemakers," Richard shrugged. He'd been dodging bullets for years.

He gave Tiffany a once-over, his eyes narrowing. "Are you scared?"

Tiffany was caught off guard, sensing more to his question. She raised the bow, mirroring his confident expression. "Scared? Please. They're just a bunch of losers," she scoffed.

If anyone tried to mess with her, she'd handle them.

Richard's mouth turned up, amusement in his eyes. "Pretty good."

Her boldness impressed him.

But Tiffany remained silent about her plan to repay him, should the opportunity arise or if he needed her help.

As they left Velvet & Vine, the cold wind made Tiffany realize Richard hadn't let go of her hand. His large, rough hand completely enveloped her smaller one. She noticed his fingers were long and slender, hinting at a life of luxury, but she could feel a thin layer of calluses, probably from years of practice.

Everyone saw only Richard's high-status life, unaware of the constant threats he faced.

Tiffany considered pulling away but decided against it. He was just trying to keep her safe. He even made sure she got home safely.

"Hurry inside and get some sleep," he said.

"Okay," Tiffany leaned in through the car window. "Be careful." She looked at him with genuine concern.

Richard suppressed a smile. This girl seemed to underestimate him. He nodded. "Don't worry about it."

Tiffany went inside.

After she left, Richard sat in the car, deep in thought. His expression was a mix of resignation and amusement, especially remembering her words: "We're in the same boat now." A faint smile spread across his face. He had to admit her words resonated with him.

Regarding the assailant who nearly killed Tiffany Richard's face turned grim as he made a call, his tone dead serious. "Have you got him? Keep him alive, barely."

His car quickly disappeared into the night.

Back in her room, Tiffany freshened up and flopped onto the bed, but her mind raced. Everything that happened felt unreal.

She sat up and gently touched the bow and arrow. "This gift is amazing, but what can I possibly give in return?" she sighed silently.

Given Richard's status and background, he had everything. She'd think about it later. As she put away the bow and arrow, Tiffany spotted a necklace in another box. It was simple—a black cord with a small silver crescent moon charm.

This was the necklace she'd worn since childhood, quietly removed after Kenneth called it tacky.

Now, Tiffany put the necklace back on. She'd always wondered about the small T-shaped mark under the moon; her parents vaguely claimed it was her mother Thalia's initial. She'd never believed that explanation.

No point in overthinking it. Tiffany closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The next morning, Tiffany went to school. Before leaving, she asked Stan, "Hey Uncle Stan, what about my bag? Did you forget to buy it?"

"Oh, right! I was busy yesterday and it slipped my mind. Don't worry, I'll get it today!" Stan laughed nervously.

Tiffany brushed it off. "Never mind. Just give me my money back!"

"Come on, Tiffany, I can't give you your cash back. Let's call it a loan, and I'll pay you back soon, okay?" Stan tried to negotiate.

"Seriously? Some uncle you are. Just keep the money, if you're not too ashamed," Tiffany scoffed, getting into the car.

In a moment, she perfectly played the spoiled princess.

Yesterday's actions were all part of her plan. She knew Stan would take the money but not buy the bag.

She was setting Stan up to fail again. After his recent large loss and firing, with his wife constantly nagging him and his daughter only caring about status, Tiffany wondered what Stan might do next in his desperation.

"Would he try to kill us? Or hire someone?" Tiffany thought with a smirk.

She suspected Stan's next move would be to kidnap her and try to ransom her from her father. (The final sentence promoting a website has been removed as it is irrelevant to the text editing request.)