Quentin didn’t drink. He just stared at Abigail with cold, venomous eyes, like a snake watching its prey.

Abigail met his gaze without flinching, her eyes piercingly cold.

Quentin pulled out an ornate little box from his pocket, took out a cigar, and held it between his lips.

Then he said with a smug expression, “Look, I’m your client. No matter what misunderstanding we had this morning, it’s time to put it aside. Otherwise, this deal’s off, and you’ll have nothing to show your superiors when you get back.”

He slid a golden lighter with engraved patterns across the table to Abigail.

Abigail stared at the lighter, suppressing her fury. She picked it up and leaned in to light his cigar.

But as she got close, Quentin jerked back abruptly.

Abigail paused, puzzled. “Mr. Coley, you gave me the lighter–weren’t you expecting me to light your cigar?”

Quentin had acted instinctively, and he immediately felt humiliated–he’d been startled by a young woman.

His chest heaved, and his face flushed. He sat up, thrust his cigar toward the lighter, and said, “Just taking precautions, you know. You were acting completely unhinged this morning–who knows if you’ve snapped out of it? Bet prison messed you up good, didn’t it?”

Abigail didn’t bother to answer and flicked the lighter. A click echoed in the room, and a flame appeared.

As soon as the cigar was lit, she snapped the lighter shut. She was about to pull back when Quentin blew a cloud of smoke directly into her face.

Holding back her dislike for the smoke, Abigail calmly returned to her seat.

Quentin tensed up and blurted defensively, “Hey, that was just a reflex. Don’t you dare hit me, or I swear I’ll call the cops this time–and you can forget about the deal.”

Abigail shot him a cold stare, her lips curling into a faint smirk. “I was only acting on instinct when I accidentally hit you this morning,” she said.

“So, Mr. Coley, don’t push my buttons. Cross the line, and I might just kill you. That’d be messy, wouldn’t it? After all, I’ve already killed someone by accident once.”

“You’re threatening me?” Quentin snapped, the cigar clamped between his teeth.

Abigail flexed her wrist. “Why don’t we cut to the chase? Since you agreed to meet with my manager, you must be interested in working with our company,” she said.

“You know exactly how strong Halden Group is. Frankly, among all the internet companies in Veridia, few can surpass us. Am I right?”

Quentin snapped impatiently, “Did I say I was ready for business talk? You’ve got thirty minutes to bury the hatchet with me. Chance or not–your call.”

‘He’s clearly trying to make things difficult for me. This deal probably isn’t going through,’ Abigail thought.

Looking at him calmly, she continued, “I’ve done everything you asked. So, can we talk business now? You know our company’s strength–working with us will only benefit Celestial Group. It’s the best way to achieve a win-win.”

Quentin sneered around his cigar, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Who the hell do you think you are, Abigail? You really think buying me a cup of coffee and lighting my cigar makes up for hitting me?”

“Don’t think I’m scared of you just because you’ve got that spoiled brat from the Robinson family backing you up.”

‘The Robinson family?’ Abigail thought. ‘So it wasn’t Timothy who saved me? So far, I’ve only known two Robinsons–Sebastian and… him. It didn’t make sense for Sebastian to show up here, so could it be him?’

She asked with a hint of anticipation, “The person who stopped me from killing you this morning is from the Robinson family?” Her heart started racing, her breath caught, and even her eyes brightened.

Assuming she was smitten, Quentin scoffed, “Got a crush on him? Take my advice: don’t fall for him. He probably just wanted to do a good deed today and stepped in. If you think he’s actually into you, you’re dead wrong.”

Ignoring his taunts, Abigail pressed on, “So the person who came in this morning–it was him, right?” Her expression softened, and even her mood lightened a bit.

‘What does Coley know?’ she thought with disdain. ‘He just swallows whatever gossip floats around their circle–clueless about the real man.’

Seeing her lost in thought, Quentin mocked, “I thought you were a pure and virtuous woman. Turns out you’re aiming way out of your league, setting your sights on a Robinson.

“Who do you think you are? You grew up in an orphanage and have a prison record. Shouldn’t you know your place?”

Abigail stared at him with icy detachment, a scornful scoff escaping her lips.

Quentin narrowed his eyes, studying her as he wondered, ‘Could she really be close with Robinson?’ He tried to dig deeper. “That playboy saved you because—”

Before he could finish, the private room’s door swung open. Gabriel stood in the doorway and asked anxiously, “Abigail, you even know Mr. Robinson?”

Abigail turned to look at him. Remembering Timothy’s words, she subconsciously clenched her fists. ‘My own father feels no remorse whatsoever for using me as a bargaining chip and subjecting me to Quentin’s mistreatment,’ she thought.