It's already 7:00 PM by the time Avery arrives back at the staff dormitories. It's still raining outside and the storm shows no sign of relenting. Though the weather is terrible, the guests at the hotel are just as determined to seek entertainment and pleasure as ever. The waiters rushing out of the dormitory to work seem to be on their way to the battlefield. As the night gets later, the frenzy increases.

After taking a shower, putting on her new underwear and nightgown, and drying her hair, Avery falls into bed. As soon as she closes her eyes a man's face flashed across her mind. It's the man who kidnapped her on the plane. Though she only got a brief glimpse of his face before she was blindfolded, she remembers it perfectly.

"He snatched the ring Charles gave me," she thinks, "No matter what I have to find a way to get that back. For all I know, someone is still trying to poison me."

Robert knocks at the door, interrupting her thoughts.

"Mrs. Howel, Mr. Howel wants to see you," he announces, "Please get dressed and come with me.

"Where are we going?" Avery asks.

"Just come with me and you'll find out."

Avery smooths her hair and prepares to follow, but Robert stops her from leaving the room.

"Mrs. Howel, please get dressed," he says firmly.

"Can't I wear this?" she asks, gesturing at her nightgown.

Robert looks at Avery again. She is wearing a simple but short white cotton nightgown. As she lazily leans against the door with slightly messy hair, Robert can't help but think she looks like a beautiful princess. He doesn't dare to look at her for too long and immediately lowers his head.

"Mr. Howel is not in his suite at the moment," he says delicately, "It's too undignified for you to appear in public like that."

Avery is silent for a moment, wondering why Evan wants to see her.

"His date with Lisa tonight has absolutely nothing to do with me," she thought bitterly.

Her eyes darken at the thought of the date.

"Just tell him I've already gone to bed," she snaps.

Avery closes the door in Robert's face and locks it behind her. Then she lazily stretches out on her bed. Robert bangs on the door and calls her name, but she ignores him. Suddenly a loud splintering sound fills the room, and Robert kicks the door open.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Howel but I can't disobey Mr. Howel's order," Robert said, "He was quite insistent that the consequences would be severe if I failed to bring you to him tonight. I had no choice."

Robert casts an apologetic look at the broken door.

"Did you kick the door open to watch me change my clothes?" Avery asks.

She artfully slides one of the straps from her shoulder as if she were alone in the room. Robert blanches with fear, turns immediately and shuts the door as best he can behind him. His face looks as white as a ghost.

Avery sighs. The door is broken and she knows she won't have any privacy or peace until she agrees to go. Avery combs her hair and arranges it simply, she puts on light makeup and changes into one of her new dresses. The black skirt clings to her body and enhances her perfect curvy figure—the daring slit reveals the seductive skin of her thigh. Finally, she takes a small black handbag and places two cards inside: one to the presidential suite and another to her room in the staff dormitory.

When she opens the door, Robert is standing right there. He gives her a strange and surprising look before gesturing down the hall.

"Mrs. Howel, this way, please."

The bar is famous among pleasure seekers for its many opportunities for luxurious dissipation. There are tiers of circular booths arranged around a large stage. A dozen women in black leather tights perform a tantalizing pole dance on the stage. Their soft bodies coil like snakes around the hard chrome poles, constantly teasing and flirting with the male patron's most primitive desires.

The smell of wine fills the air. The colorful crystal lamps hanging high above the stage, emit dim and ambiguous light. The atmosphere is perfect for indulgence—and many of the country's richest and most famous come to the bar to give vent to their most secret desires.

The booths are divided into tiers according to cost, privacy, and exclusivity. The most distinguished guests naturally take the private rooms at the top of the lounge. Though a VIP room is worth millions, they're always in short supply.

Robert leads Avery to the most luxurious VIP room. People like Evan don't need to reserve a private room in advance or wait in any lines. The hotel owners would practically beg him to come if they thought it would do any good.

It's quiet inside the private room. As soon as Robert opens the door for Avery, screams, whistles, and cheers come into the room in a steady stream. Lisa sits on the red circular sofa chatting and laughing, but Evan's demeanor remains icy. His indifferent attitude is out of tune with the woman's flattery. Evan lifts his head when he hears the door open and Avery catches a rakish glint in his eyes.

Avery's presence seems to darken the room. Most of Lisa's friends have the decency to go quiet, and they look at their drinks in awkward embarrassment. Avery frowns at her husband and casts an unreadable expression at the woman by his side. She finally understands Robert's strange look upon seeing her dresses: Lisa is wearing the exact same dress.

Lisa deliberately feigns amazement.

"Well, Mr. Howel, it seems that your wife and I have the same taste," she giggled, "We both chose the same dress."

The other women look at Avery as if they are enjoying a funny show. Quickly, they turn to look at Evan, eager to see his reaction.

"That seems like quite the coincidence, no?" Veronica sneers, "Lisa, didn't Mr. Howel buy you your dress?"

"Did Mrs. Howel buy the same dress on purpose?" another woman asks in a stage whisper.

"Did she buy the same dress on purpose?" Evan repeats with amusement.

He looks at Avery with eyes sharp enough to cut through her and casually reclines on the sofa.

"This is a weak imitation and the effect is quite ludicrous," Evan mocks.

"Mr. Howel, who is the imitator: Mrs. Howel or me?" Lisa asks.

She seizes the opportunity to wrap her arms coquettishly around the man. To Avery's surprise, Evan doesn't shake her off. Avery stands silently and bites her lip softly, trying not to stare at Lisa's hand caressing Evan's body. Evan suddenly presses that white hand over his heart, staring intently at Avery.

"What do you want me to say Mrs. Howel?" he asks.

"You can say whatever you like," Avery responds.

She turns away in an effort to leave, but Evan frowns coldly and Robert grabs her arm to stop her at once. Cheers still come from the stage in a steady stream, but the atmosphere in the room has become stagnant and tense. Lisa laughs in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Mr. Howel, forget about it," she murmurs, "I'm sure Mrs. Howel didn't deliberately choose to wear the same dress as me."

"How do you know that?" Evan asks.

"Every woman wants to be unique," Lisa replies, "Why would Mrs. Howel intentionally try to make herself like another woman?"

Evan laughs cruelly.

"Unique?" he says, "No. There are some people who don't like to be unique."

He wants Avery to be the unique woman in his life, but he recalls the jibe she made about books at lunch. Her words echoed in his head: "If a reader is uninterested, even a masterpiece can be dull and useless."

"She's uninterested," he thinks sadly.