?Chapter 1152:


    As Daniels Group’s technical director, Franco strode into the conference room with self-assured ease, his confidence radiating with every step.


    Dr. Finley herself had said she wanted him to sit next to her. Eager to impress, Franco quickly pulled out a chair for Marissa before seating himself beside her, practically vibrating with admiration.


    Joziah took the seat on Marissa’s other side, smiling to himself. Connor sat across from them, eyeing Franco with the kind of amusement one might have while watching someone trip over their own feet—entertaining, yet mildly exasperating.


    Too wrapped up in his excitement, Franco missed Connor’s expression entirely. Instead, he busied himself showering Marissa with praise, offering her coffee, water—anything to make an impression. But Marissa didn’t so much as nce at him. She was scrolling through her phone. And when she saw the slew of smug, taunting messages from Franco, her lips curled into a faint, amused smile.


    At that moment, Domenic shut the conference room door and stationed himself outside with Marc and Terry to ensure privacy.


    Marissa exhaled, ncing at the now-sealed room. She set down her phone, reached up, and—without a word—peeled off her wig and fake face, cing them neatly on the table.


    Franco, mid-sentence, froze. His gaze flicked from the wig and fake face to Marissa’s now-uncovered face. His brain nked like an old car refusing to start.


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    For a full ten seconds, he just gawked. Then, finally, his voice came out, small and stunned. “What… what are you doing here?”


    His mind scrambled for answers, but nothing clicked. He turned desperately to Connor, grasping for logic. “Connor, did you—did you make Tiffany pretend to be Dr. Finley?”


    Connor, lounging in his chair, barely spared him a nce. He looked utterly unbothered, like Franco’s confusion was just background noise. Honestly, if it weren’t for Franco’s technical skills, Connor wouldn’t bother with him at all.


    Joziah, watching the whole scene unfold, let out a sigh before finally pulling Franco out of his misery. With an amused smile, he said, “Franco, Miss Nash isn’t pretending to be Dr. Finley. She is Dr. Finley.”


    Franco was at aplete loss for words. Had he been the fool all along?


    The realization hit like a ton of bricks. His mind raced back to the messages he had bombarded Marissa with—each one more arrogant and taunting than thest. If there were a way to vanish into thin air, he would have taken it without hesitation.


    Just moments ago, he had been all smiles, basking in his own self-importance. Now, his face shifted through every shade of humiliation, burning with the weight of his own misjudgment.


    After a long pause, he finally managed to ask, “Are you really Dr. Finley?”


    Marissa didn’t bother answering. Instead, she wordlessly turned hisptop toward her, scanned his program, and in seconds, pinpointed several issues he had been struggling with. She offered quick, precise solutions, as if they were the most obvious things in the world.


    Franco sat frozen. He had wrestled with those problems for days, and Dr. Finley had unraveled them in mere moments.


    Reality settled in.


    “Thwap!” Franco smacked himself across the face. “I’m sorry, Tiffany. I really shouldn’t have said those things to you.”


    Franco’s apology was so amusing that it triggered a wave ofughter from everyone present. It was quite a scene to see Franco, an adult, disying such a childlike side.


    “Alright,” Marissa chuckled. “Since you’re sincere and obviously a fan, you’re forgiven this time.”


    Franco’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, and he cast a quick nce at Connor before shyly addressing Marissa. “Why did you wear a fake face?”


    “It’splicated, and now’s not the time for exnations,” Marissa responded. “Just make sure you don’t discuss it outside this room.”


    “Got it,” Franco agreed with a silent nod.


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