"What, Don't You Trust Me?"

Tristan held her hand, pushed open the wooden lattice door in front of them, and walked into the small detached house.

Though it had been a long time since anyone had stepped foot here, the house was filled with a cold, lifeless atmosphere.

Cynthia looked around. A painting titled the Waterfall hung in the entrance, serving as a decorative piece.

The corner of her mouth curved into a faint smile, and a deeper meaning flickered in her eyes as she looked at Tristan.

She remembered this painting had been sold at an auction for 3.6 billion, bought by a mysterious person. At the time, she thought it had found someone who appreciated it. But who would have thought that it was just left to hang here as decoration?

Truly, when you have money, you can do anything you want.

"Why did you bring me here?" Cynthia asked.