Chapter 399

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Faye had enjoyed a few days of flattery from netizens and the practical benefits of her ascent. How could she willingly give up now? If public opinion turned against her, she would simply buy fake reviews to change the narrative. However, before she could employ them, Dreamscape Studio's lawyer's letter arrived, followed closely by the McDaniel Group's. Faye sat before her computer, her face paling instantly.

Dreamscape was incredibly busy. Their only shortcoming was an abundance of clients; the three reception rooms couldn't accommodate everyone. Dreamscape couldn't serve them all at once, so those beyond the first ten reservation holders left their contact information and awaited scheduling. Surprisingly, these guests weren't angry or dissatisfied; their cooperation was remarkable. Maeve noticed they seemed to know each other, despite appearing unfamiliar. However, their purpose didn't seem to be clothes customization. Their high status, conversations, and demeanors were distinct. Confused, Maeve wondered if someone had promoted Dreamscape within wealthy circles. Regardless, it was beneficial. Touching her earlobe, she prepared to leave the restroom.

"Did you also come after hearing the news?" someone asked outside.

"Isn't everyone here today for that reason?" another replied.

"While I like the clothes, I'm still puzzled. That person is in a unique position and unconcerned with such things. Why would they care about a small studio?"

"Few things capture that person's interest. There must be something special here."

"Perhaps this place is run by that person's relatives?"

"Hiss, then I should be more respectful to the boss later. It might help my husband's promotion."

"I own a publicity company; this could be useful..."

Maeve stood dumbfounded in the cubicle, listening to their hushed conspiracy. Her head swam with questions. Who was "that person"? Their fear and desire to please suggested high status, yet they never mentioned a name. Maeve couldn't ask; it would appear as if she were eavesdropping.

After the guests departed, Maeve emerged from the cubicle. Unable to solve the mystery, she washed her face and returned to work.

At the same time, at the Mapledeca.

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The butler informed Gale, "Perhaps the minister saw the Dreamscape album you left on the table." That minister, a notorious gossip, eagerly sought to curry favor with Gale, devising this scheme. Who knew others would become interested?

Gale responded with a nonchalant "um," showing little reaction. Long-held power often attracts excessive deference, even without desire or demand.

"Is the gift ready?" Gale asked.

"Yes," the butler replied. "It's expensive; I doubt Ms. Reese will accept it."

Gale's eyelids lifted, revealing an unyielding coldness. "She's smart; she won't refuse." His life was far more valuable than a few outfits. The gift was merely to prevent future entanglements and save time.

The butler understood and remained silent. "Any other instructions?"

"How's Zephyr?"

"No news from young Mr. Soar. I fear he's in trouble."

Gale said nothing more.

Maeve received Gale's thank-you gift—ownership of an office building. Shocked, she rejected it, as the butler anticipated. The messenger relayed that Mr. Soar considered her smart and discerning. This made Maeve uneasy. Was her rejection insufficiently sincere, giving Mr. Soar the impression she wanted more? Or did the wealthy simply buy peace of mind, disregarding others' feelings?

Maeve admitted she wasn't indifferent to money; otherwise, she wouldn't have monitored production progress while hospitalized. However, she genuinely didn't want Gale's gift. Previously, it was to avoid credit for Jaylen; now, it was his actions that displeased her. She couldn't even bear to consider the person who caused her unhappiness.

"Please return this and tell your boss that if he avoids me, I guarantee no third party will learn of the Greenhaven incident."

The messenger, surprised by her stubbornness, departed with the gift, his expression darkened.

As he left, Warren arrived.

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"Business brings me by; I thought I'd offer condolences with afternoon coffee." A warm smile graced Warren's face.

Maeve was surprised. "Thank you, Mr. Richard. Perfect timing; I was about to ask my assistant."

"Excellent. I didn't want to intrude."

"Of course not. Mr. Richard's guidance is always welcome," Maeve joked.

Warren's coffee was extravagant, a special order from a high-end restaurant, delivered by the manager and chef. Five tables' worth; Maeve suspected the studio couldn't finish it all. Recently, due to her period, her sweet intake was restricted, making this a welcome treat. Secretly enjoying it, she mused that a cart of desserts from Mr. Soar might have been accepted. He seemed determined to silence her. Maeve shook her head.

After coffee and Warren's departure, Maeve resumed work. Near closing, two clients returned gowns, needing size adjustments. It finished around seven; darkness had fallen. Leaving the studio, she saw a familiar figure.

"Dr. Malvis?" Maeve exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

Serena's smile was serene. Yesterday's anger was gone. "I need to speak with you."

"About what?"

"It's better in the café below."

Maeve felt uneasy, recalling Byron's words. She considered refusing but worried it involved Will. "Fine."

In the café, Maeve ordered a drink. Serena appeared troubled. "Ms. Reese, Mr. McDaniel should have told you, but I felt I should as well."