The familiar, well-defined face, coupled with an intimidating noble aura, could only belong to Richard. Tiffany was surprised. She had met Richard several times during this period, mostly at Royal Bay. Her identity was that of a mysterious person with excellent medical skills; their interactions were limited to brief greetings.

When Richard saw her, a playful glint flashed across his face. Tiffany quickly averted her gaze, maintaining a professional demeanor, devoid of any fawning or solicitousness. She strove to appear emotionless, slightly improving Hank's impression of her. However, he casually remarked, "The butler has served it. You can begin now."

Tiffany remained silent, sensing Hank's underlying disdain. It wasn't arrogance, but the inherent confidence of someone from a family that had prospered for centuries. When the butler presented the items, Tiffany neatly donned her gloves. Before her lay a diamond, somewhat mottled with age, bearing the marks of its passage through many hands. Impurities within were difficult to clean.

Tiffany picked up the diamond ring and examined it. The ring was transparent, and the dragon carved upon it was lifelike. Although the central carving was blurry, it was clearly no ordinary item. After a moment's consideration, she replaced the ring and stated bluntly, "This diamond ring is of the highest quality. It's a thousand years old. It's priceless."

Hank, his gaze unwavering, suddenly asked, "Little girl, do you know why I chose you among so many experienced appraisers?"

"I don't know," Tiffany replied.

"Because you can tell stories," Hank chuckled, his stern face softening. "Tell me the story of this diamond ring."

Tiffany paused. Her storytelling at the recent appraisal convention had been well-received, sparking curiosity and rumors. People suspected fabrication, but she was merely a narrator. Sensing the ring's history, she began: "This isn't a unique story. A poor scholar found it by chance. The pattern symbolizes auspiciousness and good fortune. He treasured it, and rose steadily, eventually becoming a Marquis, his family prospering for generations."

Tiffany's voice, though deliberately mature, was soft. Her unhurried pace lent the story realism, painting vivid images in the listener's mind. Hank, aging and increasingly interested in such things, was discerning and not easily fooled, yet Tiffany's storytelling captivated him.

By the story's end, Hank remained engrossed. Tiffany, without disturbing him, subtly met the half-smile of the person beside her: Richard. His presence was powerful and undeniable, yet he seemed unmoved by the story, more interested in observing Tiffany.

Her heart pounded. Did something give me away? she wondered. Then, she heard Richard's amused voice: "Not bad." The final syllable lingered meaningfully.

Tiffany smiled. "You flatter me, Mr. Hampton." The mission was easier than anticipated. She gratefully accepted Hank's compensation—a check of substantial, though unseen, value.

"I'll see you later, then." Tiffany rose to leave. As she turned, she saw a servant approaching with two cups of coffee. She hesitated; something felt amiss. Turning back, she saw the coffee, clearly tampered with, placed before Richard, who was oblivious, about to drink it.

Without hesitation, Tiffany knocked the cup to the ground, having noticed the poison. The impulsive act brought immediate trouble; she had offended Hank within the Hampton family. As expected, Hank's shock turned to fury. "How dare you!" he roared. No one dared such insolence in his house.

Tiffany started to speak, but Richard chuckled. "Did I say something?" he asked calmly, wiping spilled liquid from his sleeve. "I don't mind. What do you mind?" Hank was speechless; Tiffany stunned.

This was the first time she'd witnessed Richard's elegant insult, especially towards his father. Hank, thrice married, had numerous children. Richard, his late-in-life son, possessed exceptional talent, outmaneuvering his siblings in the struggle for leadership of the Hampton family. His charisma and shrewdness were legendary.

Tiffany was surprised by his intervention. Hank, equally perplexed by the seemingly erratic actions of this seemingly unrefined girl, demanded, "Why did you do this? Explain yourself." Her actions were deeply impolite, especially considering her payment.

Tiffany began to speak, but felt a prickling in her palm. Richard subtly withdrew his hand. Tiffany quickly revised her explanation: "I'm sorry. I was in a daze… I'm truly sorry." The apology was weak, unconvincing to Hank.

Hank pressed further, but Richard impatiently rose, leaving with Tiffany. Alone in the car, Tiffany asked, "Did you know the coffee was poisoned?"

Richard smiled faintly. "How did you know?"