The words had barely left her mouth when Henry Hartwell appeared out of nowhere. "The public isn’t as stupid as you think. You, on the other hand... admitting someone else is talented is much easier than making snide remarks. The former requires no thought at all."

Phoebe Lockwood was struck speechless. It only dawned on her a moment later that this damned fatso was indirectly calling her brainless.

Though furious, she was lacking in both eloquence and intelligence. How could she ever be a match for a sly old fox like Henry Hartwell? She had no choice but to swallow her anger.

Claire Sinclair knew Phoebe Lockwood was taking a jab at her, but she was still a little worried. "Teacher Hartwell, could you give me your objective opinion on this photo? I’m not feeling very confident about it."

Henry Hartwell stared at the powerful and commanding image of Eldest Young Master Quincy in the newspaper, a sharp glint in his eyes.

"Information spreads like a spark. Once one person knows, it’s passed from one to ten, then ten to a hundred, until the entire forest is ablaze. This kind of viral spread is far more potent than a lengthy article introducing someone. Given the choice between several thousand words and a single photograph, I imagine most people would look at the photo, then casually ask whoever is nearby who the person in it is."

Hearing Teacher Hartwell’s explanation, Claire Sinclair finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Phoebe Lockwood racked her brain but couldn’t think of a rebuttal, so she finally just dropped it.

’I’ll just have to wait and see if this photo is as miraculous as that fatso claims, and if it can really make Young Master Quincy’s identity known to the world.’

...

That afternoon, a new topic started trending on social media: #Everyone’sChangingTheirHusband#

[BREAKING: A mysterious new dreamboat has been spotted at Quincy Manor! His looks put every pretty boy in show business, young and old, to shame. With his righteous, stern, and stoic vibe, he’s captured the hearts of women of all ages. Female netizens are declaring in droves: I have a new husband!]

Due to Adrian Quincy’s sensitive status, the trending topic didn’t reveal his true identity. But that hardly stopped the internet’s clever sleuths.

In streets and alleys everywhere, the most talked-about subject was this impossibly handsome man. More and more people learned that he was the master of Quincy Manor, and they also learned his name: Adrian Quincy.

On the "Most Popular Dreamboat" charts, Adrian Quincy shot to the number one spot, dethroning the three male celebrities who had long occupied the top three.

The more mysterious he was, the more alluring he became. Some self-proclaimed "wife fans" even drew a fan comic of him and posted it online. On its first day, it garnered over twenty million views...

In short, Adrian Quincy had become famous, taking on the persona of the "National Husband."

While the public’s focus was a bit skewed, the promotional effect was undeniable. That issue of the Astoria Daily flew off the shelves, forcing them to print an additional three million copies, which also sold out completely.

In an era where new media was on the rise and print publications were facing extinction, the Astoria Daily sold its highest-selling issue in history, with a final circulation of over fifteen million.

This achievement earned Claire Sinclair her very first commission. While it was only ten thousand dollars, it was enough to keep her happy for days.

However, the man taking the world by storm in the newspapers had now been gone from home for four days, without a single word.

Claire Sinclair found herself waiting for his call every day. Sometimes she wanted to call him, but she held back, afraid she might be disturbing him if he was busy.

’If he had time, he’d call me,’ she reasoned. ’He must be busy if he hasn’t called.’

A month passed, maybe even longer. Claire Sinclair had lost track of how long he’d been gone. In any case, his call never came.

She began to worry that something had happened to him and finally couldn’t stop herself from calling.

But the call didn’t go through. An automated voice said the recipient was unavailable.

Growing more worried, Claire Sinclair tried calling both Aiden Howkins and Nancy Lockwood, but their numbers also went to a recorded message saying they were unavailable.

’What in the world was going on?’