"Jenna, I appreciate your help." Grandma Blanche's kind voice came through the phone.

Jenna's lips curved slightly. "Grandma, you've been so good to me. This is nothing."

"The birthday banquet will be crowded. Some people might say unpleasant things. Don't take them to heart."

"Maybe I should just help in the kitchen?"

"Absolutely not!" Blanche's tone turned firm. "You're my grandson's wife. You'll sit at the main table. Treat the gossip as background noise."

After hanging up, Jenna fell into thought. Now that she and Ethan were officially married, showing up empty-handed to his grandmother's birthday would be inappropriate.

She threw on a jacket and rode her e-bike straight to the downtown mall.

As she entered the lobby, her phone rang. Tristan Ashcroft informed her the transfer was complete and told her to check.

Jenna opened her banking app—her pupils dilated instantly. $1.7 million! During her time at the club, she'd earned $1.7 million!

"Perfect!" The involuntary exclamation drew curious glances from passersby.

She was about to pocket her phone when another call came through. Seeing "Victor Roland" on the screen made her brow furrow.

"What?" Her voice was icy.

"Tomorrow at 5 PM. Mr. Chow. Don't be late." Victor's tone brooked no argument.

Only then did Jenna remember the long-forgotten arrangement. "Got it." She ended the call abruptly.

Turning toward the jewelry section, she stopped before a luxury international brand's display.

A meticulously made-up sales associate sauntered over. But upon noticing Jenna's faded jeans and worn crossbody bag, her lips curled in derision.

"Feel free to browse." The woman crossed her arms, gaze dripping with condescension.

Jenna met her eyes calmly. Her fingertips tapped lightly against the glass countertop.