?Chapter 1047:


    Yet, in the blink of an eye, her supposed acquaintance had brushed her aside,vishing all his attention on Corrine instead.


    The realization stung like ice water down her spine. Had she made a fool of herself?


    “I need to use the restroom.” Feeling suffocated by the situation, she abruptly excused herself.


    But no one paid attention to her departure. All eyes remained fixated on Corrine.


    Five minutester, the group returned to the restaurant.


    Though the table was adorned with an array of exquisite dishes, no one seemed to have an appetite.


    Moses elbowed Zack, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “How the hell does Corrine know people from the Red me?”


    “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Zack barely nced at him.


    Moses rolled his eyes. “If I had the guts, would I be whispering to you right now?”


    Zack smirked and then turned his gaze toward Rosalie, who was idly tapping ash from her cigarette. “Didn’t you say you knew people from the Red me?” he asked casually.


    “Huh?” Rosalie, taken aback, cleared her throat and regainedposure.


    “I’ve met them a few times,” she replied in a measured tone. “Vulture—the man with the scar—is their leader. Hawk, from what I know, is their best sharpshooter. They’re extremely discreet. Their identities are never exposed unless necessary. For them to show up like this…” Her gaze flickered to Corrine. “She must have done something significant.”


    A heavy silence followed.


    Everyone in the room was well aware—Corrine hadn’t actually offended the Red me.


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    If she had, they wouldn’t be sitting together at the same table. No, it was the opposite.


    Vulture’s tone, his expressions, even his unrestrained indulgence toward her—everything pointed to something far deeper. Meanwhile, Nate, who had remained quiet, sat with one leg over the other, eyes fixed on Vulture with unsettling detachment.


    Across from him, Vulture toyed with a cigar between his fingers but never lit it, his gaze bouncing between Corrine and Nate. “What’s your rtionship?” he asked in a cold voice.


    “My fiancé.” Corrine intertwined her fingers with Nate’s, her touch deliberate—with a hint of defiance.


    Vulture’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “I see.”


    Casually, he flicked his lighter open and shut. “Mind if I smoke?”


    “Go ahead,” Corrine said, unbothered.


    Vulture looked at her, a faint smile on his lips, filled with an indescribable fondness. He put the cigar back in the box, his gaze never leaving Corrine.


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