Chapter 440: Sloane Bennett Crossed Her Arms with a Cold Smirk

"Wait...can we discuss the partnership again?"

Sloane Bennett crossed her arms with a cold smirk. "Weren't you the one who threatened to terminate the deal if I didn't agree?"

"I despise people who go back on their word. A signed contract isn't something you can just rewrite on a whim."

"Partnerships require trust. If we can't align, it's better to part ways now."

Julian Cross shot to his feet. "Who says I'm untrustworthy?!"

Sloane cut straight to the point. "So, do you want to renegotiate terms or not?"

"...Never mind." He deflated back onto the couch.

Pride?

Did it put food on the table?

"That's more like it."

Julian muttered under his breath, "I came all this way and didn't even get a hot meal..."

"Speak up. Can't you talk straight like a grown man?"

"I said I'm starving!"

Sloane blinked, expecting insults—only to hear this.

"The mighty Julian Cross, reduced to hunger?"

He bristled. "I waited forty minutes outside your building! Where was I supposed to eat?!"

Sloane snorted. "No one asked you to wait. Serves you right."

Julian: "!" His liver ached with fury.

In the end, Sloane made him a bowl of instant beef noodles.

Between slurps, he complained, "Couldn't you serve something decent for a guest?"

She scrolled through her phone without looking up. "Take it or leave it."

Julian: "..."

Fine. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

He drained every last drop of broth.

"...Burp!"

Sloane shot him a disgusted glance. "Finished? Then leave."

Julian sprawled on the sofa, rubbing his stomach. "Got any iced drinks?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Do I look like your waitress?"

"Why are you so difficult? Can't you be nicer?"

"No."

"..."

Julian had to raid the fridge himself.

Wow. The shelves were bare—except for the drinks section, packed to the brim.

He grabbed a cola, chugged it, and released a satisfied belch.

Sloane: "Must you be so gross?"

"Burp! Burp! Burp!"

Three deliberate repeats.

Sloane: "..."

Her glare could kill.

* * *

The summer afternoon hummed with cicadas.

Their bickering filled the living room.

Julian stubbornly overstayed his welcome.

Sloane's temples throbbed.

She resolved to block this nuisance from her social media.

Meanwhile, Clara Whitmore woke from her nap and graded two papers.

Her back ached from sitting. She stood to stretch.

In the kitchen, she prepared a fruit platter.

Summer fruits attracted bugs.

After peeling, she bagged the scraps tightly, planning to take them out with the evening trash.

Opening her door, she saw repairmen crowding Elias Mercer's open apartment.

Elias emerged from the bedroom. "The bedroom AC isn't cooling either."

A repairman slapped his thigh. "Definitely the outdoor unit."

Clara peeked in. "Professor, AC trouble?"

He noticed her. "You're home?"

"It's the weekend."

Elias gave a wry smile, pointing at the AC. "Broke this morning."

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his white shirt clinging damply.

Fresh from her air-conditioned apartment, Clara felt hot just looking at him.

"The technicians are on it. Would you...like to wait at my place? It's cool inside."

Elias hesitated.

"Is that...alright?"