Glancing over to see Emily licking her lips once more, Michael sighed lightly in his heart.

Turning the steering wheel to the right, he veered onto a side road, quickly pulling over. Emily was puzzled: "Why did you stop the car?"

"Just wait a minute, I'm going to buy something." Michael pressed the hazard lights, unbuckled his seatbelt with a snap, and raised a corner of his mouth, saying, "Don't worry, even if I'm five minutes late, I can catch up."

After saying this, he got out of the car and dashed into a nearby supermarket.

Emily was still somewhat anxious. She retrieved her phone, repeatedly refreshing the GPS location on her watch.

Soon Michael returned, tossing a bottle of mineral water into her lap as he got back into the car: "Drink up, your mouth must be dry."

Fresh from the cold cabinet, the mineral water bottle was covered in dew, its coolness seeping through his fingertips, easing Emily's anxious heart a little.

She murmured a low thank you, unscrewing the cap and taking a couple sips.

"Don't mention it." Michael muttered, starting the car again. Seeing Emily with her phone again, he clicked his tongue and, without much thought, snatched it away: "Stop staring at it, the more you look, the more anxious you get."

The warmth of his fingertips brushed against the palm of her left hand. Emily blinked and made a sound, quietly holding the mineral water bottle with both hands.

This seemed to slightly alleviate the itching sensation spreading from her palm.

True to his word, Michael quickly closed the distance with the target vehicle.

Unexpectedly, Anderson actually returned to the office.

Anderson's company was in an office building above a subway station, sharing parking with the mall below. It was a bit old, with dim lights, mottled walls, and uneven floors.

Michael waited until the GPS on their phones was completely still before driving into the parking lot. Anderson rented a private parking space, and with Emily's guidance, Michael quickly found the white BMW.

It was only then that Emily slapped her forehead in regret and exclaimed, "Oh, I completely forgot! The watch is hidden in the car, not on his person. The vertical positioning function is useless!"

Michael thought she would say more, but upon hearing her only just remember now, he couldn't help but laugh: "I knew that. I thought of it when you mentioned it just now."

Emily widened her eyes: "Then why didn't you remind me?"

Recalling how she had just rattled on about how great the children's watch was to Michael, she felt like a salesperson who hadn't met her monthly sales target.

Michael looked around for a parking space while grinning: "Seeing you so well-prepared, I didn't want to dampen your enthusiasm."

Flushed with embarrassment, Emily raised an eyebrow at him, choosing not to continue the argument.

The vertical positioning feature may have been useless, but this little gadget had another "ace" function that she hadn't told Michael about yet.

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Most of the parking spaces near the elevator had already been taken, so Michael circled around without finding a suitable spot. Planning to make another loop, the car moved slowly and was about to pass the white BMW when Emily suddenly covered her face with both hands and shifted her body down.

Michael frowned, becoming alert: "What's wrong?"

Emily murmured softly, "There's a dashcam in the car. I'm afraid it'll capture me."

The steering wheel seemed to transform into some kind of plant with soft thorns, prickling her palms with an itching and numb sensation.

"Don't hide." Michael resisted the urge to ruffle her hair and said in a deep voice, "You haven't done anything wrong, there's no need to hide."

Michael parked the car in a spot a few rows away from the white BMW, with a slight turn between them. The position was somewhat distant, but it offered a clear view of the elevator entrance.

He turned off the lights, switched to external circulation, and left the windows slightly ajar, allowing the air conditioner to run for a bit longer before shutting off the car.

Emily retrieved her phone and fished a charging cable from her backpack. "Can I use your car charger?"

Not knowing how long they would need to tail Anderson, she needed to keep an eye on her phone's battery.

"Of course."

Michael gestured for her to go ahead, while he took out his own phone and opened WeChat.

His thick eyebrows arched slightly as he saw a message from Amanda, sent five minutes ago, informing him that she had a lunch date with some friends at TaiKoo Hui for sushi.

When Michael had first started dating Amanda, he had treated her group of friends to several meals. However, due to differences in age, education, family background, and social circles, he found little common ground with them.

Eventually, Michael only financed their outings, rarely joining Amanda’s gatherings. Though he had politely added a few of her friends on WeChat, he never chatted with them privately.

In truth, Michael was well aware that, in Amanda’s friends’ eyes, he was merely a rustic rich kid with a decent family background and some money to his name. Not a graduate of an elite school, no overseas experience, and incapable of pronouncing complex French words correctly, he lacked the refined demeanor of those upper-class elites who spent all day boasting with a cigar in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

To create an opportunity for their rendezvous, Michael, like Emily, had given Amanda a mix of truth and fabrication. Emily claimed she was attending classes in Shenzhen, while Michael, busy with his seafood shop, told Amanda he would be out of town for two days, returning on Sunday evening.

Amanda had shown some displeasure, complaining about how Michael was always busy with the store. After some coaxing and transferring a substantial sum for her to spend on shopping and dining with her friends, she reluctantly forgave him.

Michael didn’t respond to her message, as he was supposedly “driving on the highway” and unable to check his phone conveniently.

He reported to his "ally": “They’re likely going to TaiKoo Hui for lunch.”

Emily was surprised: “Did you get a tip?”

Michael nodded: “Uh-huh.”

Emily quietly exhaled in relief and turned to look at him.

The man before her was tall and sturdy, his broad shoulders blocking much of the dim light from outside the window. The faint remaining light formed a halo around his short hair, making it look soft and inviting to touch.

His prominent brow and high-bridged nose stood out more clearly in the backlight, as if carved by a sculptor.

Sensing her gaze, Michael looked up: “What’s the matter?”

Emily’s eyes were earnest and sincere as she replied, “Thank you.”

Michael, taken aback by her seriousness, stammered a bit: “Th-thank you for what?”

Emily shifted her gaze, retrieved a cloth from her bag, and began cleaning her glasses. “I have to thank you. You really didn’t have to help me.”

Michael shrugged and said, “I help you, and you help me. We share the same goal.”

Her hand paused briefly before continuing.

Emily’s objective was clear. Her husband’s infidelity, to the point where the other party’s partner had come knocking, left her with little time to decide.

She wanted to end this marriage mired in deception.

Though she could hire someone to catch her husband cheating, Emily knew her own weaknesses. She needed to see it with her own eyes to believe it.

Additionally, if she didn’t have enough evidence and confronted Anderson, she knew she wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny and would likely be defeated in the argument.

She needed substantial proof to fight this battle swiftly; dragging it out would only leave her emotionally drained.

But was Michael’s goal merely to gather evidence and break up with his girlfriend?

Emily wasn’t sure, but she didn’t ask further.

She put on her now spotless glasses: “Do you want me to ask someone in the company to keep an eye on Anderson?”

She often made cakes and cookies to send to Anderson’s office for the employees’ afternoon tea, maintaining a fairly decent relationship with several female colleagues.