Charles expressionlessly shook his head. "I've eaten, Classmate Grace. You two enjoy your meal."

  Seeing his serious, slightly dazed demeanor, Grace couldn't help but smile. "You can just call me Grace from now on. No need to be so formal."

  Charles paused for a full two seconds before nodding again. "Oh, okay, Classmate Grace."

  Grace: "..."

  Scarlett had already seated herself and was digging in. Seeing this exchange, she gestured for Grace to sit. "Don't mind him, let's eat. This golden noodle dish is amazing—it's our housekeeper's specialty."

  As she spoke, she slid the bowl of golden noodles in front of Grace. "You have this; I'll have the porridge."

  The golden noodles looked exquisite, the clear broth shimmering with droplets of oil, garnished with pan-fried luncheon meat and a few vibrant greens. It was meticulously prepared.

  "Why are you still standing there like a statue?"

  Scarlett frowned at Charles, who remained rooted in place like a sculpture, watching them eat.

  Grace also blinked at Charles curiously. He shifted his gaze to the food containers and said flatly, "I was thinking I should take the containers back with me."

  "No need. I'll be staying at Grace's place for the next few days anyway. When you bring breakfast tomorrow, you can pick up today's containers then." Scarlett waved her hand dismissively. "Stop hovering here. It's awkward."

  Her tone carried an unmistakable imperiousness, reminiscent of how heiresses in soap operas spoke to their servants.

  If one didn't know Scarlett's true nature, they might mistake her for being exactly that kind of spoiled, wilful person. But Grace understood. Scarlett was genuinely kind. It was only with Charles that she adopted this tone and manner.

  Perhaps it had something to do with them growing up together, with Charles always by her side, looking after her.

  Subconsciously, Scarlett had grown so accustomed to this dynamic with Charles that she didn't realize how she came across sometimes. She'd always spoken to him this way.

  And it wasn't just Scarlett who was oblivious—Charles himself seemed perfectly content with it, never showing the slightest resentment.

  "Oh. Okay."

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  He nodded, his expression unchanged, and obediently turned to leave.

  Grace watched him go, caught between laughter and exasperation. So this was the classic "one willing to suffer, the other willing to strike"?

  "Could you maybe be a little nicer to him?"

  Once Charles had left, Grace couldn't help but gently point it out.

  Scarlett looked at Grace blankly. "To whom?"

  Grace felt a wave of speechlessness, then smiled wryly. "Charles. Haven't you noticed that your tone changes every time you talk to him?"

  "Does it?" Scarlett's delicate brows furrowed in genuine unawareness.

  She really hadn't noticed.

  Grace nodded. "Yes, it does."

  "He's probably the mildest-tempered guy I've ever met. He's always looking after you—he even remembers the exact dates of your period better than you do. But I don't think I've ever heard you say thank you to him."

  "What?" Scarlett was a bit shocked by Grace's observation. She hesitated, then asked, "I haven't? I didn't say thank you just now?"

  Grace looked at her and slowly shook her head.

  Everyone around them knew Charles was the son of the Vance family's chauffeur, so everyone naturally assumed he was Scarlett's attendant. No one questioned her attitude toward him; it was her right as the young mistress.

  Over time, even Scarlett herself had overlooked it. It took Grace pointing it out so plainly for her to snap out of her complacency and begin to reflect, to examine herself.

  As far as she could remember, had she ever thanked Charles?

  Maybe she had, but it was so long ago that the specific time and occasion had faded from memory.

  After a long pause, Scarlett murmured, "It seems... it really has been a long time since I last thanked him."

  Grace looked at her. "I'm not trying to lecture you or anything. I just think Charles is a genuinely honest person. He may seem a bit slow on the surface, but he's actually incredibly thoughtful—especially when it comes to you."

  "Take the other night at the reception, for example. I ran into the villa right after you, but I couldn't find you anywhere. He found you instantly. That shows how well he knows you. You should be a little kinder to him."

  Scarlett nodded, a bit regretful. "You're right, sweetie. Now that you've pointed it out, I realize I really don't pay much attention to his feelings. Ah, it's just... we've been like this for so many years. I'm used to talking to him this way, so I never noticed. I really didn't mean to neglect him."

  "I know. But maybe try to be a bit nicer from now on. Every time I see him quietly walk off like that, I can't help but feel a little sorry for him."

  "Okay, I'll be more polite to him."

  After breakfast, Grace had a meeting scheduled with Lawyer Angelo from Golden Joe's legal team. She had added him on LetsChat previously regarding her younger sister's contract issues. This time, for the matter with Richard and his team, Grace also planned to have Lawyer Angelo draft the contracts to avoid any legal loopholes.

  Scarlett immediately offered to have Walter drive them. Grace declined, saying, "It's easier just to call a cab. No need to trouble Walter."

  At that moment, it occurred to Grace: maybe she should buy a car herself.

  Investment contracts followed a standard template, modified according to the specific terms agreed upon by both parties. The first draft was just a preliminary version, and it took Lawyer Angelo less than three hours to draw it up and send it to Grace.

  That afternoon, Grace met with Richard again.

  "And Senior Harry?"

  At the café, seeing that Richard had come alone, Grace couldn't help but ask.

  Richard wore the same clothes as yesterday. He casually set his backpack on a chair and said, "He's at his part-time job. Right now, our daily expenses depend entirely on his income."

  Grace wasn't surprised. The various details had already hinted at their financial strain.

  "What about the others? Are they all living just as frugally?" Grace asked.

  Richard didn't hide it and nodded frankly. "Everyone's been putting whatever money they can spare into the project. We can't bear to spend it on ourselves. This project has consumed over a year of our hard work—it's like our child. Parents always deprive themselves before they'd ever deprive their child."

  Even Scarlett, listening from the side, felt a pang of sympathy and almost offered to donate on the spot.

  Grace understood. Without further ado, she took the draft contract from her bag and handed it to Richard. "This is the first draft. I had a professional lawyer draw it up. Take it back and discuss it with the others. See if there are any additional details you'd like to add."

  "That was fast." Richard was astonished by Grace's efficiency.

  Grace smiled wryly. "How could I afford to be slow? You guys are almost out of food."

  Richard rubbed his nose sheepishly. "It's still manageable. We won't starve just yet."

  "Do you have a group chat? Add me to it. I may not understand the technical side of things, but I'm still your sole investor. It'll make communication easier." Grace said.

  Without hesitation, Richard nodded, pulled out his phone, and added Grace to their team group chat.

  The group was named "Waiting for the Right One."

  Grace let out a soft laugh. "Oh? You've all been waiting for me, then?"