Tristan Davis’s sense of alarm shot up; he quickly stepped out of the car, keeping close behind Emily Blair.
It was the height of summer, the sun blazing overhead. Andrew Lane’s assistant stood sweating in the heat, a sheen on his forehead and the back of his shirt. He lowered his voice, “Mr. Lane, your meeting with Mr. Lewis starts in just a few minutes.”
Andrew Lane gave no reply.
The assistant felt the tension, glancing helplessly at a nearby valet.
He followed Andrew’s gaze—and suddenly froze.
Emily Blair had just stepped out of her car, and with her was a strikingly handsome young man.
A middle-aged man in a suit stood by Emily’s car, bent over with the hood up, searching for something in the engine. Emily and the young man walked over together, quietly asking a few questions.
The assistant’s forehead grew even damper.
He recognized the young man from his reports.
Tristan Davis—the Davis family’s heir. Privileged background, impressive education, graduated college at nineteen. For the past five years, ever since Emily Blair left the Lane family and quit Riven, Tristan had been by her side. Every single report, every photo, every detail from those five years—Tristan was always there.
Every story, every snapshot. Tristan Davis was always in the picture.
In other words, for five years, someone else had filled the place Andrew Lane once held.
A young man and woman, five years together—what feelings might have grown between them? It was only natural.
The assistant couldn’t say for sure how Andrew Lane felt about Emily Blair after all these years, but if Andrew didn’t care, he wouldn’t have ordered such thorough investigations into every aspect of her life these past five years.
“That’s Tristan Davis,” Andrew Lane said abruptly, his voice low.


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