"Who are you?"
Annie York jumped, startled by the man’s sudden voice. She spun around, clutching the used bedsheets, her face pale.
"M-Mr. Grant, I’m Annie York..."
Walker Grant’s sharp brows drew together. "Why are you here?"
Annie York said meekly, "Chloe asked me to change the sheets and duvet cover. I’m almost done."
Walker Grant’s gaze swept over her. "Then why are you wearing her clothes?"
Annie York was wearing one of Chloe Reed’s blouses—a simple and elegant white one with embroidered cuffs.
When Chloe Reed wore it, she exuded a sophisticated beauty. On Annie York, however, it looked like an adult trying to wear a child’s clothes—completely jarring.
"I gave it to her. What, you have a problem with that?"
Just then, Chloe Reed’s voice came from the direction of the bathroom. She walked out in a bathrobe, clearly having just showered, a faint pink flush coloring her skin.
Her clear eyes regarded him coldly.
Annie York said timidly, "Chloe, I’m almost done with the sheets. And... this blouse probably doesn’t suit me. I should give it back to you."
She looked like she was about to cry.
Seeing this, Chloe Reed shot a glare at Walker Grant. "Who said you could come into my room? You show up out of nowhere and scare us, and before I can even get on your case, you’re the one yelling at us."
Walker Grant raised an eyebrow. "I was harsh with *you*?"
"You were harsh with *her*," Chloe Reed said. "She’s my friend."
But Walker Grant retorted, "And what does that have to do with me? I’m always like this with people who don’t matter. You, of all people, should know that."
He took a step forward. "Chloe, don’t tell me you’re just using this to vent your frustrations with me."
Chloe Reed scoffed. "Do I need any other reason to be unhappy with you?"

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