Logan Reed and Blind Jack also passed the inspection smoothly and arrived outside the main gate. At that moment, the rain suddenly intensified, so they could only stand under the eaves to take shelter. Blind Jack sneezed several times in the cold wind, imitating Logan Reed by turning up his collar, and looked enviously at the cars leaving one after another not far away. He said, “When will the two of us ever be able to get ourselves a car?”

Just then, a black sedan slowly pulled up in front of them. The window rolled down, and Grace Young’s beautiful face appeared from inside, her clear, bright eyes fixed on Logan Reed: “Get in!”

Blind Jack never dreamed that this stunning beauty would actually approach them on her own. Grinning, he started to walk over, but Logan Reed grabbed his arm: “Thanks! But I don’t think we know each other!”

Blind Jack nudged Logan Reed with his shoulder: “Since Miss Young is being so kind and wants to give us a ride, let’s just take the lift!”

Logan Reed still replied calmly and with dignity: “Thanks! We’re not headed the same way, Miss Young, take care!”

But Grace Young had no intention of leaving. She sighed softly, gripped the steering wheel with her left hand, and raised a pistol with her right, the dark muzzle aimed at Logan Reed, then gave her wrist a gentle shake.

Blind Jack’s eyes widened. It was the first time he’d seen such an invitation—in fact, it wasn’t an invitation at all, it was outright coercion.

Logan Reed started to laugh, revealing a set of neat, white teeth. He didn’t believe Grace Young would fire a gun in front of the Blue Mill’s entrance, especially with patrol officers still inside. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw six men approaching them—notably, Simon Moore’s subordinates.

Unhurried, Logan Reed walked over, circled around the front of the car, and opened the door to sit in the passenger seat.

Blind Jack followed, reaching out to open the door, but Grace Young said, “I didn’t invite you.”

Blind Jack had wanted to show his loyalty and share hardship with Logan Reed, but at this moment, he felt both his loyalty and dignity had been insulted by Grace Young. He shouted, “We’re brothers through life and death! If we live or die, we do it together! Don’t think I’m scared of you just because you have a gun…”

Before he could finish, Grace Young slammed on the gas. The car shot out like an arrow, and Blind Jack was splattered all over with mud from the spinning tires. Spitting out the mud from his mouth, he cursed, “What’s so great about you? You think I actually want to get in your car…”

Several shadows around him began to close in, and only then did he realize he’d been surrounded by Samuel Moore’s six men.

From the rearview mirror, Logan Reed saw Blind Jack being surrounded and was about to ask, but Grace Young had already guessed his thoughts: “Don’t worry, your friend will be fine!” She casually tossed the pistol into the glove compartment, then reached for a cigarette case, took out a cigarette, and held it between her lips. “Give me a hand!” she said, pointing to where the lighter was kept.

Logan Reed picked up the lighter. With a crisp click, he lit her cigarette.

Grace Young took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Her dark blue eyes, veiled by the smoke, became mysterious and ethereal. Logan Reed didn’t like women who smoked, but Grace Young’s smoking was extremely elegant—even the smallest, unintentional gestures revealed a unique grace.

Logan Reed played with the lighter in his hand. Made of brass, each side was adorned with a delicate Medusa relief. He turned it over to look at the bottom: made in Germany, a genuine imported item, and likely quite valuable.

Grace Young seemed to remember something. “Smoke? Don’t be shy, help yourself!”

Logan Reed shook his head. “I don’t like it.” Not liking it didn’t mean he couldn’t do it.

Grace Young smiled. “I don’t like it either, but it’s become a habit.”

“I thought singers would always take care of their voices.”

Grace Young expertly flicked the ash into the ashtray and said softly, “I don’t like performing in front of people.” The car turned onto Fenyang Road, passed the Municipal Council, and arrived at a cluster of villas. Someone had already opened the iron gate of No. 269, and Grace Young drove the car straight up to the small building.

It was a classic Gothic-style building. Logan Reed estimated roughly that the villa covered about ten mu. The house was a four-story reinforced concrete structure, with a garden and lawn in front of the main building. The garden was planted with all kinds of rare plants, with a pond, small bridge, rockery, and flowerbeds. The garden was full of blooming flowers, all carefully tended. Even though it was late autumn, colorful chrysanthemums were still in full bloom.

If not for the unexpected encounter with Grace Young, Logan Reed would never have had the chance to enter one of the top luxury homes in Huangpu. His first impression was the strict security, which immediately created a sense of oppression. From the entrance, they passed through three gates in total, each guarded by security.

Logan Reed’s understanding of Grace Young was mostly from newspapers. He knew she was twenty years old this year, born in Paris, France, and had spent her entire childhood and student years in France. Her mother was from a fallen French noble family, and her father was a Chinese businessman living in France. Other than the brief introductions in the papers, he knew nothing else. In Logan Reed’s impression, Grace Young was a noble lady fallen on hard times, forced by circumstances to become a dancer and perform on stage in the French Concession. But everything before his eyes now overturned all his previous impressions of Grace Young, making him begin to reassess this mysterious woman.