Rebirth: Love me Again

Chapter 165 The Mixer Dilemma

[

BONUS

Chapter

for reaching 200 GT! Thank you all!???? ]

=== ????===

[EVE]

"So . . . this is the

emergency

you mentioned?" I asked, staring at the restaurant where Riri had summoned me like it was a life-or-death situation.

Riri clasped her hands together as if she were about to pray to me. "Please, Eve, just this once! Come with me to a mixer!"

I raised an eyebrow, my expression deadpan. "This is your emergency? You called me, huffing and puffing like you were on fire, and rushed me here for this?"

"It

is

an emergency!" Riri exclaimed, nodding so vigorously her glasses almost slipped off her nose. "This is my chance, Eve. My one chance to finally have a love life!"

I blinked, torn between frustration and amusement. "A love life is your

emergency

?"

"YES!" She pointed dramatically at the restaurant like it was some sacred battlefield. "It might not sound threatening, but this is serious! This could be my last shot before Christmas!"

I folded my arms and gave her a skeptical look. "I'm not following."

Riri sighed dramatically, looking as if she were about to bare her soul. "Look, Eve, I'm not . . . exactly a 'love at first sight' kind of gal, but I think you already know that? I don't have your looks, your elegance, or your whole

mysterious charm

thing going on. Guys don't just fall for me. I have to work for it!"

"Riri, come on," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "What matters is what's on the inside. A guy who's worth it will see how cool and fun you are."

For a moment, her eyes sparkled with gratitude. Then she snorted. "Yeah, right. Maybe I'd believe you if

As we stepped inside, I glanced around, half-expecting Cole, to materialize out of thin air and glare Riri into killing herself for dragging me here.

Thankfully, he was busy with some business meeting, but I knew my ever-present bodyguards weren't far behind.

Let's just get this over with.

=== ???? ===

[COLE]

Cole was buried in a mountain of paperwork, the result of days spent chasing after Eve instead of focusing on their businesses.

The meeting room buzzed with a heavy silence as executives shuffled nervously in their seats, avoiding eye contact with the stoic man at the head of the table.

Then, his phone rang.

The sound echoed in the room like a gunshot, slicing through the quiet tension. No one flinched. No one dared breathe. This was

Cole Fay

, after all—the heir of the Fay legacy, as famously overbearing and unapproachable as his father.

It was an unspoken rule: questioning him was a shortcut to a pink slip.

Without a word, Cole leaned back in his chair and casually picked up the call. His voice was low and calm.

"What?" he said curtly, rising from his seat. "A

MIXER

?!"

The executives stiffened in unison, their postures so rigid it seemed as though they might snap in half. A wave of cold dread swept through the room, and one brave soul glanced at the clock, silently praying the meeting was over.

As Cole paced toward the window, phone in hand, the room became a collective performance of "pretend I'm invisible."

Papers were shuffled unnecessarily, pens scratched blank notebooks, and one poor intern even started typing on a dead laptop, desperate to seem busy.

Cole's sharp, clipped responses carried across the room, his tone growing icier with each word. "I'll be there."

Someone audibly gulped.

By the time he ended the call, Cole turned back to the table, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room. Everyone froze like deer caught in headlights, terrified to draw his attention.

"Meeting postpones," he said simply, and exited the door in a hurry.

Everyone in the room collectively sighed in relief.