Chapter 933


    Susan kept a harmless smile stered on her face as she cated the men.


    "There we go, that''s more like it." The men wereforted by Susan’s words.


    "Why don''t you guys figure it out?" suggested Susan.


    The three men looked at each other, each one eager to be the first to step up.


    Seeing them distracted, Susan eyed the exit, made a beeline for the door, flung it open, and dashed


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    out.


    "Stop her!"


    The realization hit the men like a ton of bricks; they had been duped. They scrambled after her, but it


    was toote. Susan had sprinted out of the private booth and was now weaving through the crowded


    club.


    With so many witnesses, the men couldn''t just drag Susan away without causing a scene.


    Susan took refuge on the dance floor, a mass of gyrating bodies providing cover. When she was sure


    she wasn''t being followed, she let out a sigh of relief. Thoughts of Lysander''s coldness and the men''s


    words gnawed at her. Lysander only had eyes for high-ss women!


    And there she was, not making the cut, invisible to Lysander.


    A bitter twist of anger coiled in Susan''s heart. How was she any less than Thssa?


    Thssa, who grew up in some backwater town, exuded nothing but a bumpkin aura. High ss?


    Hardly.


    In contrast, Susan had been groomed in the arts of dance and piano, her upbringing a veritable fortress


    built of cash and high expectations.


    High society gatherings, designer brands—what hadn''t she seen?


    Her world was poles apart from Thssa''s. While Thssa yed in the mud, Susan had been


    mastering the arts.


    There was noparison!


    Why did Thssa catch Lysander''s eye and not her?


    She wouldn''t give up. She was determined to be Lysander''s woman.


    After all, Thssa had vulnerabilities that her father could exploit, ensuring her cooperation.


    Thssa had left the bar, and with Susan off delivering drinks, she thought she''d head home.


    Waiting for a cab by the roadside, Thssa heard someone call her name.


    Turning around, Thssa saw Callum approaching. "Ms. Everhart, in such a rush to leave? You


    haven’t delivered the drinks to the private booth, have you?"


    "You saw it yourself, someone else took over," Thssa replied.


    Callum''s eyes twinkled with that characteristic charm of his, a gentle warmth radiating from his


    demeanor.


    "Why don''t we sit over there and talk?" Callum gestured toward a nearby bench by a flowerbed. It was


    safer than the roadside.


    Thssa recalled thest time Callum sought her out, and it was indeed for a reason. This time


    around, it likely wouldn’t be for mere small talk.


    Thssa walked over to the bench, with Callum following.


    They took seats on the bench, with a respectful gap between them.


    "Did you have something to discuss with me?" Thssa asked.


    A soft smile graced Callum''s lips—not a genuine expression of mirth, but rather the natural extension of


    his affable personality.


    "You''re catching on," Callum observed. "You''re starting to understand Leopold''s intentions."