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Chloe Bishop froze. Her hand felt as if it had been burned. She yanked it back immediately.

The glass of baijiu on the table tipped over from her movement, spilling partly onto Xavier Grayson's leg.

The man looked up, his gaze landing on her face with a trace of coldness.

"I'm so sorry—let me clean that up."

Chloe Bishop was rarely this clumsy. She grabbed a napkin and reached to wipe his leg, but after only a few dabs, her hand was caught in a firm grip and coldly pushed away.

The disgust in Xavier Grayson's eyes was even sharper than it had been in the elevator. His deep voice carried clear displeasure. "Miss Bishop. Please conduct yourself with propriety."

Only then did she realize what she had done. In her panic, she had actually been wiping this man's thigh. Her face flushed crimson. "I'm sorry—I... I didn't mean to."

She was going out of her mind with desperation.

Seeing Quinn's grim expression, Chloe Bishop's heart plummeted. She had messed things up.

Just now, when Quinn said, "I'll drink first, do as you please," she had sensed that even Quinn showed deference to the man beside her.

And she—stupidly—had managed to offend him.

"What are you standing there for? Drink three glasses as an apology to Lord Grayson, now!"

Nightingale's timely voice rang out like wind chimes to Chloe Bishop's ears.

Chloe Bishop quickly composed herself and tidied the table.

She poured herself a glass, raised it, and turned to Xavier Grayson. "Sir, I truly apologize for my rudeness just now. I'll drink three glasses to make amends."

Xavier Grayson said nothing. He picked up his chopsticks and placed some of the little boy's favorite dishes onto his plate.

The ungrateful little boy glared at his father, his tiny fists clenched tight. He felt Chloe Bishop had been wronged—and he was furious.

"Sir."

Chloe Bishop turned the glass upside down. Only a single drop trickled slowly from the rim.

After three glasses of baijiu, her stomach felt like it was on fire. Her fair, delicate skin took on a soft, rosy glow—stunningly beautiful.

Xavier Grayson's gaze brushed over her skin, but he still said nothing.

After that, every time Quinn toasted Xavier Grayson, Chloe Bishop drank in his place. By the end, her head was heavy, her body unsteady.

At last, dinner was over.

As she left, Nightingale patted her on the shoulder. "Now you know who to turn to? There's a banquet at the Ling residence tomorrow. Hope to see you there."

She pulled an invitation from her bag and pressed it into Chloe Bishop's hand. "This is all I can do. The rest is up to you."

Chloe Bishop watched Nightingale's retreating figure and opened the invitation. It read: Birthday Banquet for Adrian Grayson, Son of Xavier Grayson. Tomorrow evening.

Xavier Grayson?

Xavier Grayson...

Was that cold, intimidating man the same Xavier Grayson—the one people whispered about in fear? The demon of New York City?

Just then, Justin Taylor walked in. Catching the strong smell of alcohol on her, he asked with concern, "Chloe, why did you drink so much?"

She said, "I'm fine," and tried to slip the invitation into her bag—but Justin Taylor snatched it away.

Seeing what it was, his face darkened. "You're going to this birthday banquet?"

Chloe Bishop thought of the little boy who kept sneaking glances at her, and a softness crept across her beautiful face. She gave a small "Mm" in response.

If Nightingale had pointed her in this direction, she had to try.

Her answer sent a flash of anger through Justin Taylor.

"Do you even know who Xavier Grayson is? Do you have any idea what tomorrow's banquet is really for—and you're just going to waltz in there?"

Startled by his outburst, Chloe Bishop looked up with her hazy, watery almond eyes. Her expression was a little hurt.

Her cheeks still flushed with a rosy glow—like peach blossoms in bloom.

Seeing her like this—so lovely, so vulnerable—Justin Taylor's anger evaporated.

He let out a soft sigh. "Tomorrow's banquet was organized on a whim by a few bored old matriarchs. Every unmarried young man and woman from New York City's prominent families has received an invitation."

In other words—it was a massive matchmaking event.

"So this is what Nightingale meant."

Chloe Bishop was only tipsy, not drunk. Her mind was still clear.

Liam Martin had broken off the wedding. Charles Bishop lay unconscious. Mrs. Bishop had stepped away from the business world after Chloe Bishop's birth and hadn't worked in over twenty years. Even if she wanted to help, she couldn't.

Mother and daughter held billions in assets. Countless vultures were circling. Even if they dealt with this threat, more would come.

Xavier Grayson had a fearsome reputation. In the past two years, the Martin Group had dominated New York City's business scene. Perhaps instead of asking Quinn for temporary relief, she should find a man who could permanently solve the Bishop family's problems.

But—Chloe Bishop didn't want to sell her marriage. She didn't want to marry a stranger.

Justin Taylor saw her silence and assumed she was still determined to go. He didn't want to hurt her, but he had to make her see clearly. "Your situation with Liam Martin hasn't died down yet. Everyone's waiting for you to stumble. If you show up, you'll be the laughingstock of the night."

As New York City's top socialite, Chloe Bishop had always had plenty to be proud of—her family, her looks, and Liam Martin. Others could only envy her.

But now? Liam Martin had fled. Charles Bishop had fallen. How many were waiting to see her humiliated? How many women were waiting to take her place?

If she appeared at a banquet designed for matchmaking, they would jump at the chance to tear her down.

Justin Taylor didn't need to remind her of any of this. She knew better than anyone how cruel women could be—the daggers hidden behind smiles.

Chloe Bishop was silent for a long moment before speaking. "Justin, take me to the Chen residence."

Since Charles Bishop fell into a coma, shareholders had been harassing them nonstop—saying a company couldn't go without a leader, that someone had to step in as interim CEO.

And the person they had chosen was Arthur Bennett.

Arthur Bennett's assault was relentless, his tactics shameless. He was determined to take Bishop Group.

Two days had already passed. Chloe Bishop feared that if he didn't get a response soon, he would make good on his threat against the baby.

As they walked down the corridor, Chloe Bishop spotted three familiar faces—Liam Martin's childhood friends. Each had a cigarette dangling from his lips.

She caught snippets of their complaints: "That woman is so damn fragile. When the old sister-in-law was around, she never complained about us smoking. What, does she think she's more precious than our top socialite?"

A sharp pain pierced Chloe Bishop's heart.

So quickly? He was already introducing that woman to his circle of friends?

She remembered how long it had taken her to break into his social circle—because he had never formally introduced her to anyone.