Greta, clearly rattled, blurted out, "A secret for a billion bucks, you''re getting a good deal here. I''m at the end of my rope; I need a ton of money for medical treatment. That''s why I''m pushing you into this exchange. If you''re not interested, just forget it... please, don''t hurt me. I was wrong.''


    A secret worth a billion?


    Nathalie was taken aback. What kind of secret could be worth that much cash?


    "How many secrets are you holding onto?" Nathalie asked, curiosity piqued.


    Greta started counting on her fingers, "You''re not the real power behind Maple Company... there''s another heir to the McCoy family... and even you''re not..."


    Suddenly, Greta''s eyes widened in fear towards the door. She hastily pulled the nket over her head... Sensing something was off, Nathalie quickly turned her gaze to the door.


    She spotted a man in a wheelchair gliding by like a ghostly breeze.


    Nathalie could barely discern that it was indeed a man in the wheelchair.


    Puzzled, she nced at Greta, who was now trembling under the covers, "Greta, what''s got you so scared? Nathan''s not here."


    "He is," Greta''s muffled voice came from beneath the nket.


    Those words hit Nathalie like a jolt. Suddenly, she realized something and dashed out.


    She sprinted down the hallway, catching up with the man in the wheelchair by the elevator. He was tall


    and slender, and even in a in white shirt and ck pants, he carried an undeniable grace.


    For a brief moment, she mistook him for Nathan.


    In a flurry of excitement, Nathalie grabbed the wheelchair''s handles and spun it around to face her. "Nathan," she called out, her voice full of hope.


    But when the man turned to face her, she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her.


    The man was sporting oversized sunsses, his face thin yet striking with its milky, luminous skin, as delicate as porcin. Despite his gaunt


    appearance, he exuded an air


    of nobility.


    Seeing his face stunned her.


    She felt a strange sense of familiarity but couldn''t ce him in her memory.


    His female assistant, clearly irked by Nathalie''s boldness,shed out, "What do you think you''re doing? You think you can just touch my boss''s wheelchair?"


    Nathalie, trying to maintain herposure, nodded apologetically, "I''m sorry, I thought he was someone else."


    "Thought he was someone else?"


    The assistant, not buying her


    excuse, scoffed, "That''s a pathetic excuse. Don''t think I don''t know your type. Always trying to climb the


    socialdder, either by taking etiquette sses or shameless?y trailing wealthy folks like him Unfortunately, your performance iscking... Now, tell me, which friend of yours is in a wheelchair? Name them, and if I find out they exist, I''ll let it slide."


    Nathalie frowned, knowing she had been caught in a lie.


    She hadn''t mistaken him for someone else; she wanted to see who this man was that had shaken Greta so much.


    But she hadn''t expected such a tough assistant.


    "Can''t name anyone? Then we''ll treat you like a stalker." The assistant snapped her fingers, and out of nowhere, several bodyguards appeared, surrounding Nathalie.


    Nathalie kept her cool. Naturally brave and unafraid of injustice, she felt a surge of anger at this unwarranted bullying.


    She raised her chin defiantly and


    retorted, "You don''t get to decide what''s right or wrong. Does your mouth represent thew? If not, I''d suggest you keep it shut. I''ve already said mistook him for someone else, and I haven''t harmed your boss in any way. What right do you have to detain me?"