A luxurious private jet landed on the tarmac at the city Airport.
On the tarmac, Ashdown Company employees had already lined up in anticipation. Leading them was Lucienne Beaumont, the manager of the business department, who had been assigned this reception task. She stood upright, a trace of nervousness on her exquisite face.
The person about to disembark was a highly influential figure—Isidore Kingswell, known as "Mr. Kingswell". Though still young, he had already become Mr. Ravenscroft's right-hand man.
He was said to be ruthless and shrewd, and Mr. Ravenscroft held him in high regard, adopting him from among his many subordinates, elevating him to a public figure who played the role of a "clean hand" in various matters.
Such figures allowed for high profiles, yet Isidore remained low-key—free from scandals with female celebrities or reckless tales of street racing. Despite the public's curiosity, no media had ever succeeded in capturing his photograph.
This was likely consistent with Mr. Ravenscroft's own style. He had once been the leader of the underground forces of this generation, yet was well-regarded in the world of righteousness. To the outside world, however, he always maintained a demeanor of gentleness and humility.
Now that he was aging, Mr. Ravenscroft had entrusted many of his business dealings to Isidore. Whether Ashdown Company's shipping routes could extend to the northern region depended entirely on the decision of this "Mr. Kingswell".
The cabin door slowly opened, and a black leather shoe stepped out. Lucienne's expression grew more serious as she realized that what intrigued her most was what the legendary Mr. Kingswell actually looked like.
At this moment, there were still eight hours left until Eloise Devereux and Isidore's fateful encounter, which would alter the course of their lives.
For Eloise, her fate had long been predetermined. She knew she was the vicious second female lead in a business drama, fully aware of and resigned to her fate—serving as the stumbling block between the leads, diligently advancing the plot.
All her efforts were to welcome the ending briefly mentioned in the original text: The mask of the once innocent young lady was peeled away, and all the misdeeds of the past surfaced one by one. Eloise would bring shame to the entire Devereux family, and in the end, she would be "exiled" by her father, leaving in disgrace for a foreign land.
After entering the book and gaining a slight understanding of her situation, Eloise felt that, compared to staying in the Devereux family and being forced into a business marriage, the outcome of being cast out and "sorrowfully fleeing to another land" was quite a favorable one.
She had always enjoyed traveling, and with the money her father had given her to be rid of her, wouldn't it be even more enjoyable to travel the world, free and unrestrained?
To achieve this goal, she had already carried out several "mischievous acts" according to the original story. As her character was that of a willful and spoiled young lady, her schemes were always rather foolish, easily thwarted by the leads each time, only serving to intensify their growing affection.
Thus, she never feared that she would truly harm anyone. However, this time, she had to be extra cautious, as the story was now nearing its climax. The pawn in this scenario was no longer just some random colleague or passerby NPC, but a dangerous figure—Isidore, also known as "Mr. Kingswell", the second male lead with a deep underworld background.
Her task was to send the female lead, Lucienne, to Mr. Kingswell's bed and successfully take intimate photos of them together.
Tonight, a welcome banquet for Mr. Kingswell would be held at the top-floor venue. According to the original text, Eloise would "find someone" to send a drunken Lucienne to Isidore's room, and then "find someone" to hide in the shadows and take pictures.
So the question arises: who would send her? Who would take the shot? Where could she find this "person" to do the task? Eloise had no connections in this area at all.
After being the villainess for such a long time, her greatest realization was that being bad was not as easy as it seemed. It often required her to personally step in and carry out actions that couldn't be shown in public.
For instance, now, dressed in an eggshell-yellow evening gown, her delicate and adorable appearance complemented by a rope tied around her waist, she trembled as she shifted her foot inside her high heels, standing outside the floor-to-ceiling window on the 36th floor of the hotel. She dared not look down, and with each gust of wind, her heart seemed to shudder three times.
It wasn't that she had any interest in cosplaying spider, but she had to do this in order to take a photo through the glass window of Isidore's room. She hid in a visual blind spot, the raised phone camera aimed directly at the large bed in the room.
On the bed lay Lucienne, her small face flushed as she fell into a deep sleep, her delicate, slender figure evoking sympathy. Yet, the one who should have been moved by this scene, Isidore, did not appear for a long while.
Eloise knew that Isidore was highly vigilant and would not do anything to Lucienne just because someone was in the bed. The so-called "intimate photos" were merely shots taken from an advantageous angle, with no real consequences—only useful for a later part of the plot.
Thus, she was eager to complete the task quickly and end this torment of high altitudes and cold winds.
More than ten minutes passed, and Eloise felt her body on the verge of freezing, her foot perched on the windowsill losing all strength, while the rope around her waist tightened painfully.
As she grumbled for the hundred and eighty-third time about how Isidore hadn't come yet, a clear male voice suddenly called out from above her: "Hey, what are you doing there?" Eloise was startled, and the phone in her hand fell from the great height.
With no time to worry about the dangers of high-altitude throwing, her nerves, stretched to their limit, were overwhelmed by fear. She couldn't even scream, and her heart, which had been suspended in dread, finally gave way, plunging her into unconsciousness, and her legs went limp. Her unconscious body slid down from the windowsill.
The tall man, dressed in a white casual jacket, leaned on the rooftop ledge, gazing at the woman swaying in the air like a pendulum, tied by a rope. He clicked his tongue and extinguished the cigarette between his fingers.
