Hailey finally understood "no need to pack" when the doorbell chimed at noon.

A razor-sharp woman in a tailored suit bowed. "Madam, Galaxy Department Store at your service. I’m Manager Chen."

Before Hailey could process this, Chen waved—

Eight clothing racks taller than a person rolled in, crammed with this season’s haute couture.

Then eight more.

And eight more after that.

When the villa’s ground floor resembled a boutique explosion, Chen produced a measuring tape. "May we?"

Is this a movie set?!

Hailey stood paralyzed as assistants swarmed her with tape measures. "These... are for me?"

Chen’s smile gleamed. "Indeed, Madam."

Post-measurements, eight staff formed a eup holding garments. "Any dislikes?" Chen inquired.

Hailey bked at the array. "They’re all nice—"

"To the walk-in closet," Chen ordered.

"Wait! I didn’t say I wanted them!"

" Aldrich's instructions: Keep everything you don’t actively hate." Chen’s Aldrichs shone with envy.

The afternoon unfolded identically—racks of dresses, trousers, heels. By the time Hermès bags appeared, Hailey could feign calm.

(Internally, she was screaming: Do rich people bathe in money?!)

Even gerie was selected seated.

When the entourage finally left, Hailey collapsed onto the sofa—then jolted upright.

Emperor’s Club, VIP Lounge

Heirs lounged amidst cigar smoke and crystal tumblers. At the center, Aldrich sat like a monarch surveying peasants.

Beside him, tech heir Black nuzzled a model’s neck. "Try this vintage Bordeaux, darg." He tipped the glass against her lips—then kissed the wine into her mouth.

She coughed; he laughed.

Military grandson Allen kicked his ankle. "We’re here to welcome Aldrich, not watch your softcore porn."

The model, unfazed, slithered toward Aldrich with a fresh glass. "Night Young Master~"

Her manicured fingers brushed his sleeve—

"Get lost."

He shoved her. The model crashed into a cloisonné table, wine soaking her designer dress. Tears welled but didn’t fall—these men tolerated no dramatics.

Black yawned. "You heard him. Scram."

As the door shut,Allen studied Aldrich. "Still allergic to women?"

Ou smirked. "Need me to scout one you won’t vomit at? Model? Streamer? Actress—"

Aldrich’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around his glass.

Aldrichs lit. "Actress? Name anyone—star, Oscar winners—"

A ringtone cut him off.

Hailey's voice exploded through the speaker:

"Aldrich! Explain the clothing avalanche in our house!"