“Miss Morgan, how do you plan to deal with your family from now on?”

“Are you planning to cut ties with the Morgans?”

“Any comeback plans against your family?”

In their zeal, one reporter accidentally jabbed Fernanda with the microphone, leaving a red mark on her cheek.

Vinson gripped the reporter’s arm, his fierce stare causing the reporter to tremble.

“Sorry, truly, I didn’t mean to,” the reporter blurted out, regret evident in his tone. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Fernanda assured him, her tone steady.

Seeing Fernanda remain composed and Vinson’s protective stance, the reporters sensed a scoop. One of them quickly shot out another question.

“Miss Morgan, are you and Mr. Turner seeing each other?”

Another reporter piped up, eager to stir the pot. “Did you call off your engagement with Bobby because of Mr. Turner?”

Fernanda glanced at them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, marveling at how easily gossip mongers spun wild tales.

“No,” she replied with unruffled calm. “Mr. Turner and I are merely friends.”

A collective sigh of disappointment escaped the reporters.

However, Fernanda’s eyes twinkled mischievously. She didn’t rush off but instead offered them a radiant smile.

“I’ve made it crystal clear that Mr. Turner and I are just friends. Should any baseless stories about us surface in the media soon, rest assured, there will be repercussions!”

Her smile was sweet, yet the underlying threat sent a shiver down their spines.

Privately, the reporters had considered linking Fernanda romantically to Vinson. In their line of work, factual accuracy often took a backseat to sensational headlines.

Yet, Fernanda’s stark warning gave them pause.

They harbored a nagging suspicion that fabricating stories about her and Vinson could invite trouble far outweighing any potential scoop. Thus, they repeatedly promised to avoid publishing any misleading information.

Only after receiving their assurances did Fernanda’s smile warm genuinely, and she bid them goodbye.

Mayson, who had been observing from a distance, felt an unsettling tingle. He sensed that Fernanda was concealing something ominous behind her charming facade.

Vinson then drove Fernanda back to her university, where Ector was already waiting for her.

“Ector,” she greeted him warmly.

Ector, clad in a gray sweater, beige casual pants, and a dark gray wool coat, presented a figure of understated elegance, though his tired eyes betrayed a lack of sleep.

“Fernanda,” Ector sighed, his voice tinged with hoarseness. “I couldn’t get through to you, so I decided to wait here. Actually… it’s Dad. He wants to speak with you.”

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