Chapter 123

Chapter 123:

The black Maybach glided down the dimly lit avenue that led toward Alan’s villa, its motion smooth and unhurried as silence thickened within the cabin.

Brayden sat back against the leather seat, one leg loosely crossed over the other. The glow from the overhead light cast a faint sheen on the document spread across his lap—a detailed progress report from Radiant Technologies. His sharp eyes tracked every figure and line with mechanical precision, not a flicker of distraction crossing his features.

Beyond the tinted glass, the scenery blurred in fleeting ribbons of light and shadow. Each passing reflection sliced across his angular face, momentarily softening, then sharpening the contours of his cold, commanding expression.

“Mr. Stanley…” Clive’s measured voice broke the hush from the driver’s seat. “There’s a vehicle up ahead. It looks like one from your household.” His eyes flicked toward the intersection, a faint crease forming on his brow as he peered through the windshield.

Brayden’s gaze lifted at once. He closed the report, setting it aside on the seat beside him before turning to the front. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the car Clive mentioned. It was a black sedan, familiar in both model and bearing.

The license plate came into focus. His brows furrowed slightly. “That’s my father’s car,” he murmured, his tone clipped with suspicion. “What could he possibly be doing here p>

Ordinarily, Erik would be at home, keeping Alvina company, not driving anywhere near Alan’s residence. If any member of his family had reason to appear here tonight, it should have been Theo.

“Should we tail them, sir?” Clive asked in a low tone, instinctively easing pressure from the accelerator. His eyes flicked to the mirror, careful not to let their distance close too much.

Brayden’s fingers began a rhythmic tap against his knee as his thoughts darkened. “Follow them,” he ordered coolly, “but make sure they don’t notice us p>

His instincts whispered that the car’s appearance here was no accident.

Clive gave a brief nod and adjusted his pace, maintaining a deliberate gap as the Maybach shadowed the sedan through the gated district.

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Soon, both vehicles crossed into the private villa complex. The lead car bypassed the front driveway of Alan’s house, continuing instead toward the secluded lane that wrapped behind the villa. When it stopped in the shadows behind the property, the back door opened, and a man stepped out.

Brayden’s expression hardened instantly.

It was Aiden.

Dressed head-to-toe in black casual wear, Aiden glanced around cautiously, scanning for movement. Once assured of solitude, he approached the narrow garden gate and rapped lightly on it.

Moments later, the door opened from within, revealing Ellie.

The two exchanged hurried whispers, then Ellie shifted aside, allowing Aiden to slip inside before she quickly drew the gate shut behind them.

From the driver’s seat, Clive’s jaw tightened. “What could they be plotting? That kind of sneaking around doesn’t look innocent. Should I head over and check p>

Brayden’s expression was glacial, his eyes burning with a quiet, focused fury.

Aiden and Ellie—one a manipulative bastard with too much ambition, the other a spiteful woman still nursing grudges against Gracie. Their secretive meeting left no doubt in his mind: they were scheming something against Gracie.

Brayden drew a deep, controlled breath, forcing the heat of his anger back beneath the surface. “No,” he said at last, voice low and edged with steel. “We’ll do this properly. Drive to the front driveway. I’ll handle it myself p>

Clive complied without another word, steering the Maybach back toward the villa’s front. When they pulled up before the grand doorway, Brayden stepped out. The night air was cool, but the power in his bearing made the household staff nearby instinctively stiffen. His stride was composed, his presence commanding, every inch the man whose authority could silence a room.

He straightened his suit jacket and ascended the steps. Before his knuckles could meet the door, it opened from within.

The housekeeper, startled mid-motion, froze. “M-Mr. Stanley? What brings you here tonight p>

Brayden didn’t answer. Without so much as a glance in the woman’s direction, he crossed the threshold into the living room, his eyes sweeping through the space with swift precision.

Alan and Jane were seated at the dining table, their faces stiff and uneasy. The remnants of dinner lay scattered across the tablecloth—wine glasses half-drained, plates pushed aside.

But Gracie was nowhere in sight.

“Brayden?” Alan rose to his feet, feigning warmth. “What a surprise! You should’ve told us you were coming. We’d have prepared something special p>