Chapter 8

Just then, Emilio rushed back after finishing a phone call, his face filled with apology as he addressed Philip. "Mr. Foster, I'm terribly sorry, but there's an urgent matter at the university administration that requires my immediate attention. I'm afraid I won't be able to continue showing you around campus today."

Philip maintained his composed demeanor, his expression betraying nothing. "Not a problem, Mr. Blair. Please attend to your responsibilities. Perhaps your star student here can show me around instead."

Emilio turned to Catherine, giving her a few quick instructions before hurrying away with visible urgency.

Catherine playfully clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her exquisite face upward, her gaze liquid and inviting as she looked at Philip.

Philip's pupils contracted sharply.

The memory of that night—Catherine writhing beneath him in ecstasy—flashed unbidden through his mind.

Almost instinctively, he reached out to capture her slender wrist.

But Catherine, as if anticipating his move, gracefully stepped backward, maintaining a safe distance between them.

Her face still wore that innocent smile, though her eyes danced with mischievous triumph.

Catherine always knew exactly how to ignite his desire.

Just then, Philip's phone vibrated insistently in his pocket.

Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was his sister, Elizabeth Foster—James's mother.

Philip answered, his expression instantly reverting to its characteristic coldness.

"Philip!" Elizabeth's sharp, angry voice came through clearly. "James is becoming increasingly outrageous, publicly acknowledging that woman as his girlfriend! What will the Wilson family think? You must help me get rid of this woman. If she refuses to break things off, have her driven out of Brightonfield!"

Philip listened silently, his gaze inscrutable.

"Fine," he replied, his thin lips barely moving. "I'll handle it."

Catherine was amusing herself in the sunlight, appearing bored until she noticed Philip walking toward her after ending the call.

"Mr. Foster, are you hungry?" Catherine's voice was soft and alluring, gently stirring something in Philip's chest. "Perhaps I could take you to try our university cafeteria's special dishes?"

Philip looked down at her strikingly beautiful face, his expression remaining detached. "No need. I have something to discuss with you."

With those words, he strode toward a nearby dessert café, his long legs carrying him with effortless grace.

Philip watched as Catherine settled into the velvet chair across from him, his penetrating gaze sweeping over her brazenly beautiful face.

A server approached, and Philip ordered only coffee while Catherine requested a caramel pudding.

Once the server departed, Philip calmly removed a checkbook and fountain pen from his inner jacket pocket.

His long fingers moved deftly as he wrote out a string of numbers before sliding the thin slip of paper across to Catherine.

Catherine's eyes sparkled with intrigue as her elegant fingers picked up the check, her gaze falling on the amount.

Ten million dollars!

Her red lips parted slightly as she made a small sound of appreciation. She tapped the edge of the check with her fingertip and looked up at Philip, her smile playful and provocative. "How generous of you, Mr. Foster. Is this payment for our night together? Or perhaps hush money?"

Philip's lips curved coldly in derision. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not worth that much."

Rather than taking offense, Catherine leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hand. Her eyes were wide with feigned innocence yet undeniably seductive. "How could that be? Weren't you satisfied with my services that night?"

She lowered her voice to a whisper that caressed Philip's face. "I remember you were quite ecstatic."

Philip's mind instantly flashed back to that night's recklessness and loss of control—the image of her blossoming beneath him.

His Adam's apple moved involuntarily as his eyes darkened considerably.

Catherine caught his subtle reaction and inwardly smiled coldly, though her face maintained its innocent expression. "So what exactly is this enormous sum buying?" she pressed.

Philip collected himself, his tone returning to its icy detachment. "Ten million dollars for you to leave James . Immediately."

Catherine laughed lightly as if she'd heard an amusing joke, her face showing undisguised disdain. "Mr. Foster, do you take me for a beggar? James has promised me the position of Mrs. West, along with shares in his company. Your mere ten million that's barely pocket change in comparison, right?"

Philip's brow furrowed slightly, his displeasure becoming more evident. "How greedy."

Catherine set down her spoon and leaned forward, drawing closer to Philip. That elusive, intoxicating scent of hers wafted between them once more.

She lowered her voice further, adding a hint of flirtation. "Philip."

The way she pronounced his name was sinfully enticing. "Think about it. If I truly become James's wife, what I'll eventually have will far exceed this amount. Trying to dismiss me with this pittance now?"

Philip's expression remained unchanged, though his eyes grew colder than ice. "Wishful thinking. My sister will never allow someone of your background to enter the West family. Besides," he paused, his tone becoming more cutting, "Charlotte is James's official fiancée. The Wilson family's daughter. What are you? Nothing but a plaything he'll soon discard."

Catherine's smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. She even added a touch of boastfulness. "But James said he loves me desperately and won't marry anyone but me!"

Philip let out a cold, derisive laugh as if he'd heard the most absurd joke. "And you believe such nonsense designed to get you into bed? Catherine, don't play innocent with me."

Catherine's seductive smile gradually faded as she realized that her act of naivety had failed.

Before Philip's eyes, she deliberately took the check and carefully placed it in her purse.

Philip watched her accept the check, the tense line of his jaw relaxing slightly, believing she had finally recognized reality.

However, just when he thought the matter was settled, Catherine raised her head.

She no longer wore an expression of coyness or seduction. Instead, her smile became almost arrogant, challenging as her eyes locked onto Philip's with burning intensity.

"The money—I'll take it. Leaving James? I might consider it," she said deliberately, each word distinct. Then she delivered her shocking proposal.

"But, Philip rather than becoming your nephew's wife, what if you married me instead?"

She leaned back, her posture languid yet aggressive, eyes gleaming with cunning.

"Think about it—what if I became James's aunt? Wouldn't that be far more interesting?"

Without waiting for Philip's darkening expression to fully form, she stood up and gracefully walked out of the café.

Philip stared at Catherine's retreating figure long after she had disappeared from view, seemingly transfixed.

It wasn't until Alex entered and called his name twice that Philip finally snapped out of his trance.

Alex handed him a sealed envelope. "Mr. Foster, the information you requested."

Philip opened the envelope and extracted several pages.

They contained a full account of Catherine's life.

Catherine Levin, female, 24 years old.

Parents were ordinary retired workers, modest background.

Five years ago, she entered University of Medical Light with outstanding grades, maintaining exceptional academic performance as her professor's prized student.

Three months earlier, James was hospitalized, and Catherine's professor happened to be his attending physician. Their acquaintance blossomed into romance.

Her background appeared pristine as blank paper, every detail verifiable and without flaw.

If Philip didn't know about the existence of Emily, he might have believed it.

Alex observed his employer's expression through the rearview mirror, cautiously asking, "Mr. Foster, Catherine, her identity seems impeccable. Could we be overthinking this?"

Philip tossed the documents aside, his long fingers rhythmically tapping against his knee.

He certainly didn't believe it.

How could an ordinary worker's daughter possess such cunning and audacity to play with fire before Philip?

How could a simple medical student manage to captivate James so thoroughly in just a few short months?

This flawless background was itself the greatest suspicion.

Philip's severe lips curved into a mocking smile.

She thought she was hiding well?

Fine, he was curious to see what games this fox disguised as a rabbit intended to play.

In this city, no matter how she maneuvered, she couldn't escape his palm.

"Alex."

"Yes, Mr. Foster."

"Stop the investigation on Catherine for now."

Alex paused, puzzled.

Philip gazed at the glittering cityscape through the window, his eyes revealing bottomless coldness and supreme confidence.

"Don't waste any more resources," he said, his voice level yet filled with arrogant disdain.

"Let her be. I want to see just how much chaos she can stir up."