When Maxwell Peary learned about this, he didn’t seek out Nia Mitchell imdiately. Instead, he returned to the hillside villa.
"Young Master."
Frederick Goldsmith hurried over to greet him, terrified that if Maxwell was displeased, none of them would have an easy ti.
Maxwell Peary glanced at Frederick Goldsmith, then strode to the second floor and quickly made his way to the study.
Just as he’d expected. Upon seeing the photographs on the desk, Maxwell Peary confird his suspicions.
So, Rabina Mitchell got angry after seeing these photographs?
He picked up the divorce agreent. When he saw Nia Mitchell’s signature at the end, Maxwell Peary’s anger finally erupted.
Damn it, she actually dared to sign it!
This divorce agreent had been sent over from the old family ho last night, along with a long-winded ssage from Samuel Peary.
He’d had a headache and carelessly tossed the docunt aside, never expecting Rabina Mitchell to sign it so casually.
Annoyed, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. He wanted to see what kind of elaborate explanation Nia Mitchell could offer.
But... her phone was off.
Damn it! Maxwell Peary suppressed the urge to swear aloud and turned back to the Main Bedroom to change clothes.
I’ll definitely drag her back tonight and see if she still dares to run away from ho!
"Alan, find out where Nia Mitchell is."
Maxwell Peary called Alan Morgan and asked him to investigate.
Alan Morgan’s lip twitched. Boss, didn’t you say you were giving ti off? But... I’m really not in a convenient position right now.
Before he could refuse, the call had already ended.
Alan Morgan, in a small county countless miles from Capital Town, felt a wave of exasperation. He sat down on a dusty park bench and opened his laptop.
Ten minutes later, Maxwell Peary received a ssage from Alan Morgan: Nia Mitchell was currently at Star dia.
Damn it all! He fought the urge to curse. That blasted Nia Mitchell actually ran off to her love rival’s place!
Consequently, the CEO hurriedly changed his clothes and sped away from the hillside villa in his car.
Alan Morgan packed up his laptop, looked at the sunset, and sighed. Looks like I’ll have to find a random hotel for tonight. I rember Shirley Grant’s hotown is around here; how co I can’t find it?
"Excuse , do you happen to know where Grant Manor is?" Alan Morgan asked, stopping a slightly older local.
"Grant Manor? That was demolished two years ago. It was over there." The local kindly pointed to a half-constructed site. "I heard they’re building a big supermarket there."
Alan Morgan’s mouth twitched. Demolished?
"Do you know where they moved?"
Alan Morgan silently hoped they had been moved to unified resettlent housing; that would make them easier to find.
"How would I know that?" The local waved his hand and left, paying no more attention to Alan Morgan.
A light breeze rustled Alan Morgan’s hair. Frowning at the half-built construction site, he made a call.
"Hello, Young Master." A respectful male voice answered on the other end.
"I know you guys have been following . See that half-built supermarket over there? Demolish it for this young master." After saying that, Alan Morgan slamd the phone down.
Demolished two years ago? Shirley Grant, you’ve got guts. You think you can escape just like that? If you’re so brave, then stay hidden for the rest of your life. Otherwise, you know my thods. But do you really think you’re safe just by hiding?
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