Cleopatra sat in the large chair behind the CEO desk that had just been passed down to her. Wearing an elegant black dress and a black beret adorned with a peacock feather, her appearance exuded grace yet was filled with authority. Behind her calm expression, Cleopatra felt drained by the conditions of her father's will, which demanded she marry within three months. Behind her stood Peter Moon, visibly unsure, not daring to voice any thoughts that might be perceived as intrusive.

Peter, however, attempted to help. 'Miss Thompson, perhaps… it would be a good idea to try blind dating? I mean, some of the men Mr. James previously introduced might be options. They have strong backgrounds, like the sons of city council members, wealthy entrepreneurs, even some celebrities."


Cleopatra looked at Peter with a cynical gaze. 'So, you mean I should pick someone from the socialite list just to secure the company? They may be wealthy, famous, or powerful, but that's not what I'm looking for, Peter."

Peter stammered a bit, realizing Cleopatra's dissatisfaction. 'I understand, Miss. But… we must consider the limited time."

Cleopatra rubbed her temples, feeling increasingly frustrated. She took a deep breath, stood up from her chair, and reached for her luxurious Gucci bag. 'This is a waste of time, Peter. I need some fresh air. Let's go outside."


Peter quickly followed Cleopatra as she left her office. Each step she took in her high heels echoed confidently on the luxurious marble floor, drawing the attention of every employee they passed. Cleopatra walked gracefully yet with firmness, without glancing at anyone. Peter, loyal and concerned, walked behind her, fearing that whatever happened during this outing would only further irritate her.

As they reached the main doors of the Dimitri Group building, Cleopatra accidentally bumped into a junior employee. Her body shifted slightly, but she remained poised. The man, looking slightly startled, immediately bowed his head.


'My apologies, Miss," he said politely yet coolly. Without waiting for a response, he walked away, his face impassive, showing no interest in Cleopatra's perfect appearance.

Cleopatra was taken aback. Almost every man she'd encountered would show admiration or, at the very least, be captivated by her beauty, but this man was different. His gaze was cold and indifferent, as if Cleopatra were an ordinary figure. It was a new experience for her—and strangely, it piqued her curiosity.

Peter noticed Cleopatra still watching the man's retreating figure. 'Miss Thompson, is there something I can help with?" he asked, hesitantly.

Cleopatra turned to him, her expression serious. 'Peter, who is that man?"

Peter, just realizing who she meant, promptly replied, 'Oh, that's Louis Toreto, Miss. He's a new junior employee in the finance department. He was just transferred this week."

Cleopatra narrowed her eyes, looking toward where Louis had disappeared down the building's corridor. 'Find out everything about him, Peter. Now."

Peter nodded, not daring to object. 'Of course, Miss. I'll gather the information immediately."

Cleopatra gave a faint smile, then stepped out of the building with an unusual sense of curiosity. This man, unaffected by her charm, had left a strange impression, and Cleopatra knew she wanted to learn more. Not just about him, but also what made him so different from the other men around her.

With her mind turning over this new mystery, Cleopatra realized that perhaps the journey to uncover the truth behind her father's death would lead her to even more mysteries—and Louis Toreto seemed to be a new piece in the puzzle.

Peter opened the limousine door, and Cleopatra stepped in gracefully, sitting comfortably in the back seat. After adjusting her black dress neatly, she put on a pair of black gloves and large sunglasses, adding to her mysterious aura. Her face remained calm, but a flicker of tension could be seen in her eyes, like a storm held back.

Peter sat in the front seat, hesitating slightly before finally summoning the courage to ask, 'Miss Thompson, would you like me to take you somewhere else you'd like to visit?"

Cleopatra sighed deeply, her gaze distant for a moment before she replied, 'We're going to the psychiatric hospital. I want to visit my mother."

Peter looked surprised and somewhat concerned. 'Miss, I understand this is important, but are you sure this is a wise decision? The media is always watching your every move. This visit could get exposed, and it might… damage your image."

Hearing this, Cleopatra removed her sunglasses, glaring at Peter through the mirror. 'Image? You think I care what the media thinks? I don't live my life for the opinions of others, least of all the media." Her voice grew harder, filled with repressed anger. 'And that applies to you, Peter, as well as to Theodore William Blake. No one is allowed to dictate my life."

Peter swallowed, startled by Cleopatra's firmness. He nodded slowly, attempting to mask his anxiety. 'Of course, Miss. I understand," he replied in a low tone.

Cleopatra put her sunglasses back on and looked out the limousine window. Her thoughts drifted to her mother, a woman who was once so resilient but was now confined to a psychiatric hospital, trapped in dark memories she could never forget. Behind Cleopatra's strong exterior lay an unspoken pain, and today, she had decided to face it all, regardless of public opinion or even her own family.

Cleopatra entered the psychiatric hospital alone, leaving Peter outside. As she walked down the hospital's quiet hallways, the staff immediately stood and greeted her. Cleopatra was no stranger to them; she was not just an ordinary visitor but one of the hospital's biggest investors, a person greatly respected and feared.

Her steps were steady and graceful, but her heart felt heavy as she approached the room where her mother was being cared for. At the door, Cleopatra paused, took a deep breath, and then calmly opened the door.

Inside, her mother, Mrs. Catherine Moore, sat quietly in a chair, wearing a soft white dress that blended with the simple walls of the room. Catherine held a children's storybook in her hands, her face calm but vacant, as if her mind was locked away in a world far from reality. Cleopatra could only look at her with a heavy heart, though her expression remained neutral.

Cleopatra approached and sat in a chair across from her mother, her voice soft yet slightly hoarse. 'Mother," she said, trying to draw Catherine's attention. 'Father is dead."

Catherine continued staring at her book, showing no reaction, as if the words were merely whispers passing without meaning.

Cleopatra sighed, steeling herself to continue. 'And now, he wants me to get married." Her voice grew quieter but firm. 'I don't know how or to whom… but I'll do it. Because he asked for it."

Cleopatra paused for a moment, hoping her words could break through the cold barrier that separated her from her mother, to awaken the woman she had once admired so much. 'I hope," Cleopatra continued with a hint of bitterness, 'that when that day comes, you'll be by my side, mother. I want you to get better."

But Mrs. Catherine remained unresponsive. Her gaze was still vacant, fixed on the open pages of the storybook in her hands, as if Cleopatra were just a passing shadow in her mind.

Feeling her efforts were in vain, Cleopatra slowly rose from her seat. Without saying another word, she looked at her mother one last time, trying to suppress the disappointment and longing that filled her heart. She then turned and left the room with slow yet steady steps.

After the door closed behind Cleopatra, Mrs. Catherine suddenly stopped reading. She lowered the storybook from her lap, took a long, deep breath, and stared straight ahead, as if realizing something unspoken. Yet, not a single word escaped her lips, only a faint sigh holding buried memories.