Chapter 335

After leaving the room, Kieran Argent immediately pulled out his phone, scanning the messages from his subordinates.

[Mr. Argent, we found no flight or transportation records for Ms. Huston.]

[Mr. Argent, someone’s deliberately blocking our investigation.]

[Mr. Argent, we traced the obstruction to Wallace Argent. He isn’t hiding it, likely meaning he doesn’t intend to conceal it from you. What should we do next?]

[Mr. Argent, contacting Wallace Argent directly would be the fastest way to locate Ms. Huston.]

Kieran Argent grabbed the keys from the foyer, casually slung his coat over his arm, and headed out.

He got in the car, slammed the accelerator, and the vehicle smoothly merged into the road, speeding toward the Argent’s villa well over the limit.

For some reason, every traffic light he encountered turned red just as he approached, each forcing a one or two-minute wait.

At each red light, Kieran Argent leaned his head back against the seat, impatiently yanked his tie loose, and undid a button.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

Kieran Argent instinctively reached into the drawer for the cigarette box, pulled one out, clamped it between his lips, and lit it with a crisp flick. Smoke curled from the tip, filling the dim car interior.

In the gloom, only the cigarette’s glowing ember and Kieran Argent’s brooding eyes were faintly visible.

Truth was, he hadn’t smoked in ages.

When had he quit?

He couldn’t recall–it had left no impression.

It seemed Kieran quit smoking when Alaricka first came to the Argent’s villa. He’d planned to quit back then but kept smoking until Alaricka got choked by the smoke, then he truly stopped.

Though he quit, he still habitually bought cigarette packs to keep in his car.

Only now did he take out the never-opened pack.

Amid the swirling smoke, the light turned green. He slammed the gas pedal, sending the car speeding away.

When he arrived, the Argent’s villa had gone dark, sunk in slumber.

The loud bang of him kicking the door open felt especially eerie in the nighttime luxury mansion.

He stood in the living room, looking at Wallace, not hiding his frayed patience and irritation.

Wallace didn’t answer his question. He repeated it.

“Where did you take Alaricka?”

Wallace suddenly snorted, pulled his coat over his shoulders, and walked slowly down the stairs.

“Kieran, are you sure it was me who took her away?”

Wallace stood before Kieran. Though half a head shorter, he lifted his chin with smug confidence, his murky eyes sweeping over Kieran’s sweaty forehead.

Displeasure flickered in his gaze. He knew why Kieran was sweating.

Because he was frantic.

Frantic about Alarieka.

Wallace lowered his voice, staring straight at his exceptional grandson, savoring his rage: “Kieran, you know yourself Alarieka left willingly. Nobody forced her out, least of all me.”

Kieran seemed patient as he repeated: “Where is she now?”

Wallace clasped his hands behind his back. After a pause, he spoke: “Kieran, I know you love Roschelle, not Alarieka. Why won’t you let her go?”

Kieran seemed out of patience. He rubbed his temples, voice rougher.

“Grandfather, it’s different.”

Wallace looked at his grandson.

He’d watched Kieran grow up. He knew Kieran like he knew himself. He knew Kieran didn’t love Alaricka, but understood years together couldn’t leave them without feelings.

Some things must be experienced firsthand for Kieran to truly understand what serves him best, to recognize which woman benefits his future.

Having been young himself, he understood youthful recklessness.

So Kieran needed to learn the hard way.

Alaricka was just an ordinary woman after all, incapable of causing real trouble.