Tristan Ashcroft held a cigarette between his slender fingers, the smoke curling around him as he lounged lazily in his leather chair. His deep gaze settled on Jenna Roland as his thin lips parted. "Some things are better discussed in person. Jenna, you know how much I value you."

He exhaled a slow ring of smoke. "Stay. Name your terms."

Jenna hadn’t expected this again. She rubbed her eyes, her voice steady. "Boss, my brother’s surgery is coming up. I only came here to save up for his medical bills."

"I have enough now. I need to leave."

She paused. "I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but my mind’s made up."

Tristan took a sharp drag, his brow furrowing. "What will you do after leaving?"

"Maybe open a small diner." Jenna pressed her lips together. "If I don’t have enough capital, I’ll start with a food stall."

"A food stall?" Tristan straightened abruptly. "You’d rather do that than come back?"

Jenna gave a bitter smile. "Not everyone can accept what I do here."

Another cigarette butt joined the ashtray. Tristan stepped closer, his voice low. "One last offer. You can transfer departments—no more alcohol sales."

"I’m sorry." Jenna bowed deeply. "I really can’t stay."

His Adam’s apple bobbed before he finally spoke. "Don’t tell Ethan I approached you."

"Understood."

As Jenna walked away, Tristan slammed his fist onto the desk. Papers scattered as his expression darkened.

The next morning.

Jenna stood at Victor Roland’s doorstep with a grocery basket. Finding the house empty, she dialed a number.

Thirty minutes later, a locksmith named Mason Mackillop arrived in a black T-shirt.

"Can you open this?" Jenna handed him a wooden box.

After inspecting it, Mason shook his head. "Only by force."

"Forget it, then." Jenna frowned. Forcing it would make too much noise—Victor would notice.

After seeing Mason out, she returned the box to its place. Scanning the room, she began searching for other clues.