Chapter 17

The company had been investigating Jonathan's preferences for the Parilise Resort project, but he was incredibly low-key and mysterious. Little was known about him. Filip looked down, deep in thought, and asked, "Why are you so interested?"

Lilian sighed. "The station said if I land an exclusive interview with Jonathan, they'll promote me to prime-time host. But when I called today, they said the earliest I could schedule an interview is six months from now."

Filip frowned, thinking hard. "The only thing we found out is that he likes to play at the Royal Golf Field in the mornings. Maybe you can use that to your advantage."

Lilian still looked worried. "But the Royal Golf Field is the most exclusive members-only club. The membership fee is six hundred thousand dollars. How am I supposed to get in?"

Filip smiled reassuringly. "My dad is a member there. I used to go with him all the time. The manager knows me well. I'll call them tomorrow, and you can come in as my wife."

Lilian's eyes sparkled with hope. "Really? I can go in like that?"

Looking at her happy and expectant face, Filip playfully tapped her nose and said, "Of course. To me, you are my wife."

While Lilian was showering, Filip called Cynthia. "Cynthia, if you mess with Lilian again, you can't blame me for being rude."

Cynthia was puzzled by his sudden outburst. With a hint of amusement, she asked, "She complained to you?"

"Lilian isn't like you. She wouldn't say one thing to your face and another behind your back. You already have enough. Don't try to take everything from her."

After hanging up, Cynthia tossed her phone onto her desk in frustration. Sometimes, she couldn't help but admire Lilian—it was Lilian who had taken what belonged to Cynthia, yet Cynthia ended up looking like the bad guy.

Cynthia glanced at her computer screen where she had started typing a resignation letter. Suddenly, she slammed the lid shut and thought, 'Why should I resign just because Lilian is here? She's won Filip over at the cost of my reputation, and now I'm just supposed to walk away from my job?'

Sure, she had plenty of reasons to resign, and she'd thought about it for a long time. But right now, she pushed that thought aside. If she was going to quit, she wanted to do it after she became the prime-time host.

She then picked up her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and found "Pretty Boy." Without hesitation, she dialed his number.

The call connected quickly. "Ms. Jones, is there something you need?"

"Ms. Jones" sounded so formal. Cynthia assumed he must have been annoyed after she'd stood him up last time. Or maybe he wanted to cut ties, which was exactly what she hoped for.

In a rare moment of seriousness, she said, "Mr. Bennett, this is Cynthia from Roncrity News Network. I'd like to schedule an interview with you. Do you have any time?"

Jonathan scoffed on the other end, aware that she wouldn't reach out unless it was about this. He fell silent for a few seconds before responding, "Cynthia, you really have guts. You stood me up last time, and now you want to schedule an interview?"

Cynthia paused for a moment, then replied casually, "That's a different issue. You might not realize this, but I keep work and personal life separate."

Jonathan seemed amused, almost laughing. "If you want to interview me, you can come to Greenfield Villa and apologize."

(The following section appears to be a separate, incomplete chapter or scene.)

Chapter?

Camilla glanced at the wall clock. It was semidark, and she knew exactly what might happen if she went there now—bad things. She'd gone to that place for a meeting.

She replied by text. "Since it's business, let's meet during the day. I'll have the time, and I definitely will show up to make it."

Jonathan knew Cynthia well. She appeared charming and delicate, but she was as stubborn as they came. Even if it meant burning bridges, she wouldn't budge on what she didn't want to do.

In a cold tone, he said, "Then let's meet tomorrow morning at the Royal Golf Field."

Cynthia had never been to the Royal Golf Field, but she knew Henry was a member. He rarely visited but still paid the hefty six-hundred-thousand-dollar membership fee every year. The club allowed family members to enter as long as they mentioned the member's name. One card covered the whole family—it was comprehensive.

The next morning at nine o'clock, Cynthia arrived promptly at the Royal Golf Field. After walking in, she headed straight for the registration desk.

A handsome receptionist greeted her. "Miss, I don't think I've seen you before. Are you a member here?"

Cynthia replied, "Henry Yates is my father-in-law."

The receptionist's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you're Mrs. Yates, too?"

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Is there another Mrs. Yates?"

The receptionist pointed to a figure in the distance. "That lady says she's Mrs. Yates as well. Mr. Henry Yates is a big deal in Roncrity, and since he has only a son and a daughter, there can be only two daughters-in-law."

Cynthia followed his gaze and spotted Lilian, who looked a bit surprised to see her.

The receptionist suddenly looked troubled. "Just a moment, let me get the manager."

Before long, Wallace Swanson, the manager, arrived, visibly annoyed. "I told you Mrs. Yates is coming today. Mr. Yates already gave the heads-up! Let her in without all this delay, or you'll regret it!"

The receptionist responded, looking wronged. "You said one Mrs. Yates was coming, but you didn't mention there would be two? That can't be right!" Wallace exclaimed, equally taken aback.

At that moment, Lilian reached Cynthia. "Cynthia, what are you doing here?"

Cynthia smiled brightly. "I had to come see who's pretending to be me."

"Excuse me?" Lilian replied, looking confused. "I don't understand."

Wallace, who had just arrived, looked at Cynthia and then at Lilian. "Alright, you two, who is the real Mrs. Yates here?"

The golf course was bustling with rich young heirs playing a morning game. Noticing the drama, their curiosity drew them closer. "What's going on? The real and fake Mrs. Yates?" one guy joked.

Jonathan strolled over in his black sweatpants and hoodie, surrounded by a group of people. He stood out—not only because of his laid-back style but also because of his air of confidence and nobility that made everyone else seem to fade into the background.