The Man Who Never Looked Away novel Chapter 93

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel suite, Garnett Harper remained entirely silent, his eyes clouded with a dark, brooding storm.

Sigrid Sloan softly urged, "Garnett, please don't blame yourself. It's really not your fault."

Her words drifted into his ears, painfully clear, every syllable feeling like a knife to his spine.

If he hadn't insisted on going home first that night to check in with Lavinia, and if he had gone straight to the seller's house the moment he landed on Marina Island to sign the papers, Sigrid wouldn't have lost her ancestral home all over again.

"Mr. Harper, I found them!" Corinne said, bursting into the room in a rush. "The seller seems to have fled to the US. The buyer is a local."

Garnett turned around, his gaze freezing cold and his jaw locked tight.

"Set up a meeting with the buyer," he ordered flatly. "We'll pay above market price."

"I've already made contact with the buyer, but..." Corinne hesitated, looking nervous. "They don't seem like the kind of people you want to mess with."

Garnett turned fully, an eyebrow arched. "Who are they?"

"...Organized crime."

Garnett and Sigrid exchanged a tense look.

***

The meeting place was an old-school private dining room. Garnett and his team arrived early, scanning the environment.

Given the shady background of the people they were meeting, they had hired a Western bodyguard—reportedly a Brazilian mercenary.

After sitting and waiting for an hour, Garnett was losing his patience. Just as he was about to stand up, a woman's loud, boisterous voice echoed from the hall.

The door slammed open. A woman in her early twenties stood in the doorway.

She was tall—around five-foot-seven—and leanly muscled. Dressed in a sharp white suit and trousers, she wore nothing underneath the white vest. With her short hair and sharp, striking features, she looked like a mob boss straight out of a vintage crime film.

Her gaze swept the room indifferently. When she spotted the mercenary bodyguard standing in the corner, her bold, crimson lips curled into a disdainful smirk.

Finally, he managed to steer the topic to the transaction.

"That house holds special meaning to us," Garnett said smoothly. "Would you be willing to part with it? Name your price."

"Oh, the spiritual energy in that house is fantastic. I'm planning to use it to house my ancestors' ashes," Zoey grinned brightly. "Once I move my grandparents' and parents' urns in there, the whole family will be back together under one roof. It'll be so cozy."

Garnett saw right through it—this woman had zero intention of negotiating. His tone dropped to a freezing point. "You're not the boss. Let me speak to whoever is pulling your strings."

Zoey crossed her legs, leaning in close.

"For tiny matters like this, I call the shots. Mr. Harper, you don't have the clearance to see my boss."

Garnett's eyes caught the pendant resting against her collarbone. The river wave crest.

Just as he suspected. These people were specifically coming after him.

Zoey chuckled, standing up and casting a dismissive glance at the untouched food on the table. "I've got places to be. Enjoy your meal."