Rachel rolled her eyes at Matthew. "Stop being so annoying," she said. Her enchanting gaze and exquisite features radiated a unique charm, making their exchange seem like playful banter. Zachary watched them in shock. As Rachel's chauffeur, Matthew's familiarity surprised him; she didn't seem upset at all. The situation appeared preposterous. Could Matthew actually be her boyfriend?

Matthew flashed a smile. He loved teasing her serious demeanor. Rachel glared. "Stop chatting and head to the parking lot. Something urgent came up, and I need you to drive."

Matthew frowned. "What's wrong?"

Rachel looked anxious. "Hurry, we'll talk as we go."

Matthew knew he'd have to postpone Nicholas's assignment. He followed Rachel from the staff room. Their closeness as they left flabbergasted Zachary. Had Matthew been telling the truth about being her boyfriend?

En route to the parking lot, Rachel explained, "We rented a factory to manufacture traditional medicine and were recruiting workers. Just now, the manager reported that a group of people evicted everyone."

Matthew slowed. "Should you even go there? Who handles your company security?"

Rachel smiled bitterly. "The security guards are for show. The Carters' bodyguards handle security, but they work for Uncle Malcolm—I don't trust them. You're the only one I can rely on."

Matthew finally understood the precariousness of Rachel's situation. He could only deal with Nicholas's task later. "Let's go. I'll see what's happening."

Twenty minutes later, they arrived. Dozens of workers, some bruised, gathered at the entrance. Seeing Rachel, they complained, recounting how a group had kicked them out without warning, resorting to violence when questioned. Rachel's anger grew with each account. After briefly calming the workers, she approached the main entrance.

Matthew followed, observing that the attackers hadn't demanded money or made any other demands; they simply forced everyone out. This clearly indicated trouble.

About thirty security guards stood menacingly at the entrance, wielding batons. Rachel approached. "Who are you? We rented this factory. Why are you evicting us?"

The guards remained silent. Then, a man in his twenties emerged from the adjacent security office. He had tanned skin, a chin scar, a strange neck tattoo, and bloodshot eyes that gave him a demonic look. At his appearance, the guards shouted, "Mr. Hank!"

Hank Foster approached Rachel. "I'm taking the factory back. I'm not renting it to you anymore."

Rachel was stunned. "I signed a contract with Mr. Carl Langston. Who are you?"

Hank pointed to himself. "It doesn't matter. I'm in charge, and I'm not renting to you. Stop asking questions unless you want trouble."