Chapter 8

Just then, Emilio finished his call and hurried back, his face filled with apology as he addressed Philip. "Mr. Foster, I'm terribly sorry, but there's an urgent matter in the administrative office 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 face betraying no emotion. "No problem, Mr. Blair. Please attend to your work. Perhaps your star pupil here can show me around."

Emilio turned to Catherine, giving her a few brief instructions before hurrying away.

Catherine playfully clasped her hands behind her back, her eyes filled with seduction as she gazed at Philip.

Philip's pupils contracted sharply.

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

He reached out almost instinctively to grasp her slender wrist.

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

Her face still wore an innocent smile, but her eyes sparkled with playful triumph.

Catherine always knew how to ignite his desire.

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

He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was his sister, Elizabeth Foster—James's mother.

Philip answered, his expression immediately returning to its characteristic coldness.

"Philip!" Elizabeth's sharp, angry voice came through clearly. "James is becoming increasingly brazen, publicly acknowledging that woman as his girlfriend! What will the Wilsons think? You need to help me get rid of this woman. If she refuses to end the relationship, drive her out of Brightonfield!"

Philip listened silently, his gaze inscrutable.

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

Catherine amused herself in the sunlight, looking bored until she noticed Philip walking toward her after ending the call.

"Mr. Foster, are you hungry?" Catherine's voice was soft and enticing, gently stirring Philip's heartstrings. "Perhaps I could take you to try our school cafeteria's specialties?"

Philip's expression remained impassive. "No need. I have something to discuss with you."

With that, he strode toward a nearby pastry shop.

Philip watched Catherine sit in the chair across from him. He calmly took out a checkbook and a pen from his inner jacket pocket, his long fingers deftly writing down a string of numbers before placing it in front of Catherine.

Catherine picked up the check, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as they fell on the amount.

Ten million dollars!

Her red lips parted slightly, releasing a soft sound of appreciation.

She tapped the edge of the check with her fingertips, looking up at Philip with a playful, alluring smile. "Mr. Foster, how generous of you. Is this payment for our night together? Or hush money?"

Philip gave her a cold look, "Don't flatter yourself. You're not worth that much."

Catherine wasn't offended; instead, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

She widened her eyes, feigning innocence. "How could that be? Were you not satisfied with my services that night?"

She lowered her voice, "I remember you were absolutely delighted."

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, and his gaze darkened considerably.

Catherine noticed his subtle reaction and inwardly smirked, though her face maintained its innocent expression.

"So, what exactly is this fortune meant to buy?" she pressed.

Philip composed himself, his tone returning to its detached state. "I'm giving you ten million dollars 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, compared to what he offers, is hardly worth mentioning, isn't it?"

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

Catherine lowered her voice, with a hint of flirtation. "Philip."

The way she said his name seductively tempted him. "Think about it. If I truly became James's wife, what I'd ultimately gain would be far more than this. And now you think you can buy me off with just this amount?"

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

Catherine's smile froze momentarily but quickly returned to normal. She even added a touch of self-praise: "But James says he loves me desperately and won't marry anyone but me!"

Philip laughed coldly, as if hearing the most ridiculous joke. "And you actually believe that nonsense he uses to get you into bed? Catherine, don't play naive with me."

When Catherine realized her act of innocence had failed, her seductive smile gradually faded. She took the check and put it in her wallet.

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

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

Gone was her shy or seductive expression, replaced by a challenging look as her burning gaze locked onto Philip.

"The money—I'll take it. Leaving James? I might consider it." Her tone was deliberate, each word carefully chosen. Then, she made that shocking proposition.

"But Philip, rather than becoming your nephew's wife, why don't you marry me instead?"

Her eyes sparkled with mischievous light. "Think about it—what if I became James's aunt? Wouldn't that be more interesting?"

Before Philip's face could fully darken, she stood up and gracefully walked out of the café.

Long after Catherine had disappeared from view, Philip still stared at her retreating figure, seemingly entranced.

It wasn't until Alex came in to call him that Philip finally snapped out of his daze.

In the car, Alex handed him a sealed envelope. "Mr. Foster, this is the information you requested."

Philip opened the envelope and took out several pages of paper.

They detailed Catherine's life.

Catherine Levin, female, 24 years old.

Both parents were ordinary retired workers, of common background.

Five years ago, she entered the University of Medical Light with excellent grades, consistently maintained outstanding academic performance, and was a professor's favorite student.

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

Her background looked like a blank sheet of paper, every detail verifiable, flawless.

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

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

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

He certainly didn't believe it.

How could a common worker's daughter be so cunning, so bold as to play with fire right in front of Philip?

How could an ordinary medical student so thoroughly captivate James in just a few short months?

This perfect background was itself the biggest suspicion.

Philip's serious lips curved into a mocking smile.

She thought she was hiding well?

Well, he was curious to see what game this fox in rabbit's clothing was playing.

In this city, no matter what tricks she employed, she couldn't escape his grasp.