The sudden company meeting was about the Porthcawl Town project in collaboration with Holden Group. 

Holden Group was in charge of development, while Zenith Media would handle marketing and publicity. 

I joined Zenith Media five years ago through a campus recruitment. As a top-tier media and advertising company, Zenith Media’s work was demanding, but the pay was excellent. 

However, I told the Scotts that I worked at Zenith Media in a low-level position, earning a mere three thousand dollars a month. 

Since Selene and Quincey already looked down on me, they firmly believed my words. 

After the director, Trevor Hancock, presented the progress, he added seriously, “Pierce will be the person in charge of this project now. This is the first project he’s handling as the successor of Holden Group.” 

Trevor then mentioned that Pierce was dissatisfied with the current proposal, and we needed to come up with two backup proposals. In two weeks, we would meet with Pierce for a review. 

“Pierce is very particular about details and has slashed the budget quite a bit. Everyone, get your act together.” 

After the meeting, my colleagues gathered in the pantry, gossiping about the Holden family. 

“I heard Pierce was disfigured when he was a kid, which is why he rarely appears in public.” 

“Disfigured? Who would dare do that to him?” one of my colleagues asked. 

“I don’t know, but my mom used to be a reporter. She once caught a photo of him going to the hospital, but the editor told her to delete it.” 

Another person chimed in, “Family feuds can get ugly. Pierce’s sister’s death is also suspicious. Why would a little girl be out by the beach in the middle of the night?” 

“Mr. Holden has had three wives and four sons. Pierce is the youngest, but he became the successor. He must be something else.” 

“We should just stick to our own business. Mr. Hancock mentioned that Pierce is very picky.” 

I remembered the face I’d seen through the car window. Despite the scar, he was undeniably attractive. There was an enigmatic quality about him that made him impossible to read. 

He was definitely not the easy-to-seduce man Quincey described. 

While sipping my coffee, I instinctively opened my Instagram and saw that Quincey had posted a new set of photos. 

She was wearing a Chanel outfit, enjoying red wine on a hotel balcony surrounded by large bouquets of flowers. In the frame were two foreigners with aristocratic airs. 

The caption read, “The Etalvian vineyard sent over a 1982 wine. The wine’s aroma filled my palate and nose with a romantic fragrance. Girls should really stock up on some premium wine.” 

Outside the frame, there were probably another ten or so well-made-up ladies waiting around. 

The socialite training program students used standard props for photos—luxury cars, designer goods, jewelry, ocean-view apartments, and such. 

The goal was to create an image of a good family background and high taste. 

Wealthy people who didn’t know the truth would inevitably be drawn to the pictures. 

Also, to avoid being underestimated, they pretended to have thriving careers. Quincey’s supposed role as a partner and visiting professor was nothing more than a fabrication by the training institution. 

The agent sent me two more apartment listings to choose from. My savings were enough for me to buy a two-bedroom apartment near the company. 

I needed to cut ties with the Scott family quickly in order to avoid dragging myself into their mess. 

… 

Three days later, Quincey’s car crash video had gone viral. 

The comments called her a once-in-a-lifetime natural beauty. Some even compared her to popular celebrities, saying that if she joined the entertainment industry, half of the female celebrities would be out of a job. 

Then, people began sharing Quincey’s Instagram photos, hyping up her family background and taste. 

This made it almost impossible for Pierce not to notice her. Her fame was the best stepping stone to enter the Holden family. 

I had to admit that the training program was impressively efficient. 

After signing the purchase contract for the apartment, I returned to the Scott residence to pack my things. 

When Selene opened the door, she looked me up and down with disdain and asked which slum I’d found to rent a place in. 

Joshua didn’t even glance at me. He was buzzing with excitement as he hovered around Quincey, like he’d just won the lottery jackpot. 

“It’s Pierce! He messaged me!” Quincey exclaimed. “Ms. Madden said if I could get him to make the first move, I’d be one step closer to my goal.” Closing her eyes, she pressed the phone to her heart. After a few seconds, she finally opened the message. 

The three of them stared at the phone, silent for a long time. 

I put my suitcase down and walked over to take a look. 

The message from Pierce read, “My car was sent back to the Sweloria headquarters for repairs. The cost is 8.57 million dollars.” 

Attached was a repair report written in Swelorian.