?Chapter 130:


    Hearing those words, guilt pricked at Ste’s conscience.


    Years ago, Marc had told her his mother wanted to try Sharon’s beauty salon.


    He’d insisted the standard treatments weren’t good enough and demanded the most expensive options—each one costing tens of thousands—yet acted as if it was perfectly reasonable for Ste to foot the bill.


    Even with her close bond to Sharon, Ste couldn’t help feeling uneasy about epting such costly services for free.


    Still, whenever she tried to pay, Sharon tly refused, leaving Ste quietly indebted all this time.


    “Sharon, let me send you the money for that membership card,” Ste suggested, her tone earnest.


    Those monthly visits of Jazlyn’s had been anything but cheap. Without warning, Sharon threw her arms around Ste’s shoulders and shot her a yful look.


    “Stel,e on—what kind of friend do you take me for? You really think I care about that money?” Sharon gave her cheek a teasing tap, then tilted in closer to Ste with a mischievous grin. “If you feel so guilty, a kiss will do.”


    With a resignedugh, Ste leaned over and brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. “Happy now, you little troublemaker?” Their lighthearted banter didn’t go unnoticed.


    From a nearby table, Travis watched the exchange, caught off guard by Ste’s warmth with this man.


    She seemed even more at ease than she ever had around Marc. Curiosity and something sharper flickered across Travis’s face. After a pause, he rose from his seat and strode over to their table.


    “Ms. Russell. It’s been a while. I heard about your divorce from Marc—how are you holding up these days?”


    Ste lifted her gaze, lips tightening as she realized the man addressing her was Travis—Marc’s friend.


    She offered a chilly, dismissive smile. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know any Marc, and my name isn’t Ste.”


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    Her frosty tone made Travis pause, memories of Marc’s drunken confessions resurfacing.


    Of course—Marc had mentioned she was trying to shed her old identity. Maybe this was for the best.


    Travis raised his bottle with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry about that—I thought you were someone else. You’re the spitting image of her. Let me make it up to you—I’ll finish this bottle as an apology.”


    He promptly tipped his head back and drained the bottle in one go, leaving Sharon gaping in disbelief at his theatrics.


    After downing thest of the bottle, Travis swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot Ste a hopeful look.


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