When I opened the wardrobe door again, Dylan had reverted to his usual self. "Sweetheart, thanks for the audience's applause."
He obediently played along with a slight bow. The men clapped before quickly turning and fleeing. The hotel manager grabbed the staff member who had reported me. "Apologize to this lady!"
"I'll overlook your pettiness. Now get out!"
After seeing them off, I turned back to Dylan, only to find he had silently retreated into the wardrobe again.
Staring blankly at the wardrobe door, I couldn't help but shiver. Sudden frights always left lingering unease—thankfully, I, Emory, was naturally bold.
But boldness often leads to reckless abandon.
When I received the call from Baron's estate, I quickly changed into a sleek professional suit and rushed to the interview.
