?<strong>Chapter 292:</strong>


    Caught off guard, Carrie’s cheeks flushed. She fidgeted with her phone, awkwardly deflecting. “The inte really is something these days, isn’t it? You can ess all kinds of things with just a tap.”


    Oblivious to the tension she’d caused, Camille kept scrolling.


    “Yeah, it’s so convenient! Clubs aren’t always an option, but live-streamed male dancers? Anytime, anywhere. And they’ll even take requests. Tip a few hundred bucks, and they’ll dance their hearts out for you.”


    Carrie froze at the mention of spending money. Her inner rm bells rang loud and clear. Wasting money was uneptable.


    “Spending money on that?” She leaned back in her seat, waving her hand dismissively. “A few hundred bucks could get me a box of ck durian. Throwing cash at men? That’s just asking for bad karma.”


    Kristopher’s lips twitched, a faint shadow of approval crossing his face. He returned his attention to his phone, scrolling through the news with a renewed sense of calm. Of course, he didn’t count himself among the “men” she had so casually dismissed. A man like him didn’t need anyone’s money—or approval.


    Carrie, eager to escape the awkward air, opened her phone to check her notifications. A message from Daxton popped up: “There’s been progress on the earlier issue. The ount that paid the online trolls is under the name Emilio Reed.”


    She frowned, her mind racing. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t immediately ce it. She searched her mental rolodex, unable to ce Emilio’s identity.


    Carrie was about to ask Camille something, but her words caught in her throat when she noticed Kristopher still lingering nearby. She mped her lips shut, swallowing her thoughts.


    When it came to anything involving Lise, Kristopher was as partial as the sun favoring one side of the mountain. If she dared to dig for clues, he would likely bury any evidence that could expose Lise’s wrongdoings. Carrie knew that if Kristopher got involved, her search for proof would be as futile as trying to catch the wind in her hands.


    Her mind whirred, calcting her next move, before she pulled out her phone to brainstorm a fresh story idea. As Katrina, the screenwriter, it felt like centuries since she hadst penned a script. Just as she was crafting the protagonist’s traits, the car rolled to a halt.


    Before she had a chance to look up, Camille swiveled around, her voice loud and full of cheer. “Sweetheart, we’ve arrived! Out you go!”


    Kristopher’s sleek car stopped at the roadside, immediately drawing the curious eyes of passersby. As Carrie stepped out of the car, her door clicking shut behind her, she noticed the principal approaching, armsden with groceries. The moment his eyesnded on her, recognition lit his face. With a wide smile, he hurried over.


    “Carrie! Where did you and Mr. Garcia head off to today for some fun?” Spotting the luxurious vehicle and recalling his previous encounter with Daxton at the school, he naturally assumed the two had been out together.


    Hearing this, Kristopher exited the car, his face a thundercloud waiting to erupt. He strode toward Carrie, his steps deliberate and his eyes zing, before asking in a tone sharp enough to cut ss, “And who might this be?”


    With their divorce hovering like a storm cloud, Carrie had no intention of letting Kristopher get tangled up with the people in her life. She hesitated, scrambling for an excuse to steer the conversation elsewhere.


    The principal, however, seemed to have a lightbulb moment. “Oh, you’re Carrie’s cousin, aren’t you? I think I’ve seen you before. Your family’s genes are incredible; both the men and women are remarkably good-looking.”


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