Chapter 174: Yes! He Was Shallow

And in walked Professor Beatrice Holloway, with the kind of presence that made everyone sit up a little straighter.

Even before she said a word, the room subtly shifted. Conversations dimmed. Phones slid quietly into pockets, regardless of how rich or famous their families were.

She was in her late forties, and the years showed in small, distinguished ways—the fine creases around her eyes, the light lines that crept near her mouth when she wasn't smiling. She was the kind of timeless beauty that made people question the very concept of aging. 

But her presence? Still sharp enough to slice silence. With salt-and-pepper hair styled into a sleek low bun, dark maroon lipstick, a tailored navy pantsuit, and heels that clicked like a metronome across the polished floor.

She looked like the kind of woman who could make or break your Hollywood dream over morning coffee—and had probably done so more than once.