Hannah stretched at her table. The clock showed 10:00 again. Another harvest day; her schedule was always full. As she rose to call Jimmy for a ride home, her phone rang.

"Hello, Theodore," Hannah answered.

"This concerns Wayne Cooper, the investigation you requested."

"Any news?"

"He's been intimate with Sandra Stein these past few days."

"How intimate?"

"They've slept together," Theodore stated bluntly.

Hannah's face registered a flicker of shock. Conscience, it seemed, was absent from Wayne's vocabulary. Sleeping with Sandra strongly suggested collusion with Charles. Had he forgotten who killed his sister?

"Please record a video; I need proof," Hannah demanded.

"All right," Theodore agreed.

"Have you found any evidence of contact between Wayne and Charles?"

"Not yet," Theodore replied. "Should I prioritize that?"

"Do you think Wayne is already working with Charles?"

"Wayne is the traitor sabotaging the South Bay New Town project," Hannah revealed, holding little back from Theodore. Oscar had assured her of his trustworthiness, and she believed him.

"I'll keep you updated if I find anything connecting them."

"I just need proof," Hannah reiterated. "No need to waste time."

"I will," Theodore promised before hanging up. He then called Oscar. "Charles might be targeting the South Bay New Town project."

"Why do you say that?" Oscar asked.

"I just spoke with Hannah. She said Wayne has become Charles's accomplice."

Oscar frowned.

"Hannah is far more astute than I anticipated," Theodore remarked respectfully. "With her help, we can achieve our goal three years ahead of schedule."

"Charles won't be easily outmaneuvered. A trial will take time. For now, covert investigation is our best option."

"Don't worry," Theodore assured him. "Regarding Hannah…"

"I have to go," Oscar interrupted.

"I haven't finished," Theodore said, annoyed. He wanted to share his insights on Hannah.

"We can talk later."

"Are you busy?"

"Hannah's calling me."

"..." Damn.

Oscar hung up. Theodore stared at his phone, growing irritable. What the hell! A man in love had no room for friends. Alone in his nightclub's private room, he felt lousy. He'd been alone for a long time. What a boring night for a lonely man.

He stood, leaving the room. He’d never refuse a woman throwing herself at him. He watched a drunk woman cling to his clothes, pleading seductively, "Please, please take me away from here…" Her trembling voice suggested she was being pursued. Money could make a good actress, but luckily, he enjoyed playing with such actresses. He took her arm, whispering, "My pleasure."

She gripped his clothes, as if he were her last hope. What a diligent actress.

He took her to his car. In the car, she didn't release her grip, continuing to tremble. She seemed to be suffering.

Theodore frowned. "Girl, stop acting. You've caught my attention."

She still shivered. Impatiently, he lifted her face. "I said, no more—" His lips were sealed by her kiss. It was too intense for rational response. This woman was incredibly lucky; her desire overwhelmed him.

After a long, passionate kiss, Theodore pushed her away. "Let's continue at the hotel…"

But she clung to him, launching another seductive assault. What the hell. Even for him, this was unprecedented. His defenses crumbled. He ordered his driver to park and wait. The sedan began to rock violently. Their encounter lasted from near midnight until dawn.

As the sun rose, Theodore felt drained. He'd never experienced anything like it. He tried to move, but she was still on top of him. Damn it. This might kill him. He pushed her, trying to wake her. "Hey, wake up, lady."

Dazed, she scrambled off, then screamed.

"Ah!"

The scream nearly shattered Theodore's composure. He covered her mouth. "Haven't you finished yelling for the night?"

She stared at him, terrified, tears streaming down her face. Theodore was speechless and annoyed.

He pleaded, "Your performance is over, okay?"

She continued to cry.

"How much? Tell me, and I'll pay!" His patience was wearing thin. She seemed to calm slightly, so he removed his hand.

Her screaming ceased. She huddled at the side, covering her naked body.

Theodore picked up her clothes. "Put them on. I'll have the driver return."

She dressed silently. Theodore did the same; their clothes were somewhat torn from the night's passion. He opened the car door. His driver had been waiting outside all night. Seeing the door open, he said respectfully, "Morning, Mr. Wold."

"Drive home."

"Yes."

The driver returned to his seat. Well, what a loving night.

"Where are you going?" Theodore asked.

She gave him an address. He instructed the driver to take her there first. "Give me your account number."

She stared at him blankly.

"Your bank account!" Theodore said, losing his patience. Was this actress still acting?

She bit her lip. "No need."

Theodore couldn't believe his ears.

"I said, no need," she repeated.

"If you're hoping to renew my interest or blackmail me, you'll be disappointed," Theodore said sarcastically.

"I'm not," she stated firmly.

Theodore had little patience for women. Fine! She wouldn't get a chance to blackmail him.

The sedan arrived at her destination. She left without a word or a glance. Theodore didn't look back as the car pulled away. He lowered his head, noticing a trace of blood on the backseat. He looked away, dismissing it from his mind. Someone had to be her first; it made no difference. This was nothing unusual.