The alliance between the Westgate and Valentine families was common knowledge, but no one expected to confront the woman herself in this manner.
The head of security's stern face immediately softened. "Miss... Miss Valentine?"
He scrambled to smooth things over. "You see the mess this has caused... it's a terrible misunderstanding. I apologize on behalf of my men."
He stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter, his posture utterly deferential.
"Please, everyone, come in. The Ninth Lord will surely be delighted to know you're here."
After speaking, he shot a discreet glare at the guards behind him, a silent warning to be sharp. This was the Ninth Lord's future wife—not someone to be trifled with.
Annelise Valentine scoffed, ignoring him and striding straight inside.
The moment she stepped inside, she was met with a wave of opulence. The overall color scheme was still black, white, and gray, but the space was incredibly vast.
Two burgundy pool tables stood side-by-side in the center of the living room, flanked by a cocktail bar and several massive, deep-gray sofas. A black and gold piano sat in the corner.
The most striking feature was the enormous floor-to-ceiling window in the first-floor living room, which looked out onto a lush green golf course.
However, the paintings on the wall seemed out of place.
Logically, a minimalist style should be paired with a few abstract, modern pieces to complete the look. Yet the walls were adorned with richly colored oil paintings of natural landscapes.
A tranquil forest lake, a field of sunflowers, a valley at sunset... these paintings seemed utterly incongruous here.
The head of security followed behind her, trying to curry favor. "Miss Valentine, the club manager is currently in a morning meeting with the staff. If you have any instructions, you can give them to me first, and I'll see to them."
Annelise Valentine glanced through the window at the golf course outside and chuckled softly.
"I'm giving you four hours. I want that entire golf course outside planted with apple trees!"
The head of security was utterly stunned.
Zane Patterson had already presented a black card to the security head. "Do as she says. Money is no object. Four hours. Buy the trees, hire the people. Apple trees."
The head of security stared at the black card, then at the seemingly endless golf course outside the window, feeling his career and his entire worldview shifting at the same time.
He swallowed hard. "Miss Valentine, this... this is something I need to run by the Ninth Lord..."
Annelise Valentine turned around, her presence radiating an undeniable pressure. "Run by him?"
"You think that's necessary?"
"Listen. Jett Westgate and I will soon be family. What I say... is what he says."
"Do as I told you."
"Now. Immediately. I don't want to repeat myself a third time."
Her gaze made his scalp tingle. He could only comply. "Yes... Miss Valentine."
...
「Four hours later,」 the once-lush golf course had been transformed into an orchard.
Due to the extreme rush, the apple trees were planted haphazardly, here and there. The overturned soil wasn't smoothed over, leaving the entire area a complete mess.
Annelise Valentine nodded in satisfaction and led her friends out of the clubhouse.
The four of them didn't go far, finding a bustling hot pot restaurant in the city at the foot of the mountain.
Chloe Fairchild picked up a slice of freshly-cut lamb with her chopsticks and swished it in the pot. "Annelise, you're really something else. You turned Jett Westgate's golf course into a model apple orchard. When he gets back and sees it, he won't have anywhere to practice his hole-in-one. He'll have to pick apples instead! HAHAHAHA, I bet he'll be so mad he'll pass out!"
Annelise Valentine picked up a piece of tripe. "It's just a golf course. Isn't planting trees that bear fruit more practical than just growing grass?"
"Practical! Extremely practical!" Sean Conrad chimed in as he rescued a piece of tripe from the spicy pot before it overcooked.
"Anyway, if I were Jett Westgate, my heart definitely wouldn't be able to handle the shock."
Zane Patterson said nothing. He simply took the cooked tripe, drained the oil, and placed it all into the dipping bowl in front of Annelise Valentine.
"Annelise is right. Trees are better than grass."
The steam from the charcoal hot pot rose in clouds, warming their faces.
Annelise Valentine ate small bites from her bowl. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and a flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes.
"Oh, right, Zane," her voice was a little softer than usual. "I forgot to bring my wallet on this trip to Aethelgard. You've been paying for everything on the way here..."
She paused, her gaze falling on the bubbling hot pot, her long eyelashes drooping.
"This time... did we spend a little too much? And just now..."
It was rare for her to have a moment of embarrassment. It wasn't about the money; none of them were short on that. It was more that the pattern of her causing trouble and him cleaning up the mess had started to feel a little too much like a given.
She wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. She was afraid of sounding too distant and hurting the bond between them.
She was suddenly at a loss for words, or rather, she was trying to find better ones.
Zane Patterson paused, his chopsticks hovering. He had seen all her subtle thoughts and hesitation.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he picked up the plum juice beside him and refilled the cup in front of her.
"Annelise," he said her name. "With me, there's no such thing as spending too much."
"Do whatever you want to do. If it makes you happy, it's worth it. As for the rest, you have me."
Annelise Valentine's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Sean Conrad and Chloe Fairchild witnessed the subtle shift in atmosphere. They exchanged a look that said, 'Here we go again,' and attacked the food in the pot with renewed vigor.
Chloe Fairchild plopped a large piece of meat into Sean Conrad's bowl. "Did you hear that? Take notes. *That* is how it's done!"
"Besides, Annelise, we're all so close. Saying things like that makes you sound like a stranger."
Sean Conrad nodded vigorously, stuffing the meat into his mouth and mumbling his support, "Yeah, yeah, what's with 'we'? What's yours is mine, what's mine is his, why draw such clear lines? It's so formal. Hurry up and eat, this tripe's gonna get tough if we wait."
The two of them played off each other, instantly lightening the overly heavy atmosphere.
Just as Annelise Valentine was about to pick up her chopsticks, her phone, lying on the table, suddenly rang. A familiar number flashed on the screen.
It was the manager of her Supercar Club.
She had a bad feeling about this. She put down her chopsticks and answered the call.
"Val-Valentine," the voice on the other end was trembling uncontrollably. "S-Something terrible has happened! J-Jett Westgate... he-he brought a bunch of people and wrecked our club!"
"And, and they took every single supercar parked in the club, removed all the wheels, pried off the steering wheels, and then... and then, in front of everyone, they-they threw them all into the Azure River!"
Annelise Valentine shot to her feet. "What?!"
The phone on the other end was suddenly taken over by someone else. Jett Westgate's unhurried voice came through the line. "Miss Valentine, I hear you gifted me a rather nice orchard."
"It's about reciprocity."
"I saw your little toys were getting stuffy sitting in the garage, so I found them a better place to get some fresh air."
"You're welcome."
With that, the call was hung up, clean and crisp.