Chapter 225

“No, you’re far better than me. I’m just an amateur,” I said, feigning humility.

“Even amateurs need good coaches. But your style’s different from Steve’s. Who taught you?” Cole asked, genuinely curious.

I’d learned by watching Jace. He never formally coached me; I simply learned by observing him. When I got bored, I started practicing alone. My technique ended up mirroring his, and once he noticed my improvement, he’d occasionally invite me to play.

“Cole, since when did you start digging for dirt like a tabloid reporter?” a familiar voice interrupted.

I didn't bother turning around. I recognized that voice instantly.

Jace had just entered.

This night was about to become considerably more interesting.

He approached and stood beside me, saying nothing, yet making everything abundantly clear to Cole.

“Oh, no wonder her style looked familiar,” Cole said, his eyes darting between Jace and me. “So she’s…” He trailed off, as if piecing things together. Then, a look of realization dawned on his face. He smirked. “Wait, isn’t she your ‘child bride’?”

I hadn’t heard that phrase in ages. Back when I first moved into the Johnston residence, some nosy classmates discovered my intended marriage to Jace and started calling me his child bride. The student who originated the rumor transferred schools shortly afterward, and the nickname faded.

“If you keep your mouth shut, no one will mistake you for a mute. Didn't you want to play? I’ll take you on,” Jace said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to me.

He did it so casually, just like in the old days. He moved so quickly I didn't even have a chance to refuse. But I wasn't about to stand around holding his jacket all night.

I walked over to Steve, draped Jace's jacket on a chair, and motioned for him to step outside.

As soon as we were outside, Steve asked, “Why do you want to see Cole’s father? You should avoid people like them.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”

Steve seemed about to say more, but I interrupted, “You still haven’t told me—what did you find out?” His expression darkened, and he finally stated, “I looked into it. The owner of OceanixCorp is Ron Shane. As for the supposed ‘big boss,’ there’s no such person. But based on what you told me, I dug deeper. Three years ago, when the company started, a large sum of money was transferred into Ron’s account. He said it was from a friend with the last name Hart.”

“Whether this Hart guy is the big boss or not, I couldn’t confirm.”

My mind raced. “Hart?” Because of Hayden Hart, I was particularly sensitive to that name.

“Keira,” Steve called, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’ve been acting strangely lately. Are you up to something?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not doing anything, just curious about a few things.”

Steve could tell I wasn’t going to elaborate and gave me a slight smile. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. And also…”

He glanced back toward the snooker room. “Cole’s a loose cannon, but he knows better than to cross the line when I’m around. If he tries anything, just call me.”

“Okay,” I nodded. Just then, a loud crash echoed from inside as the balls scattered across the table.

Steve frowned, likely worried about his snooker table. I got the message. “Steve, I’ll head out now.”

“Be careful on your way home. Text me when you get there,” he said.

I nodded, but as I turned to leave, he asked, “Where are you staying now that you’ve left the Johnston place? If you’re renting, don’t. I’ve got plenty of properties. You need a place, just ask. You’ll feel safer in one of mine.”

“I’m good,” I said, and left.

On the way back, I couldn’t stop thinking about Steve’s words—about the mysterious investor named Hart. As improbable as it seemed, I couldn’t shake the feeling it might be Hayden. So, when I bumped into him in the stairwell of our apartment building, I decided to take a chance. “Hey, boss?” I called out, watching his face for any reaction.