In a brightly lit secret warehouse, Maxwell Peary sat on a sofa, a few middle-aged n standing before him.
"So, soone else made a move?"
Maxwell Peary raised an eyebrow. He had anticipated this.
"Yes, Young Master Peary. Our investigation shows that the Northwood Family and EdbertNia Mitchell of Star dia have conspired against the Hampton Family. All of the Hampton Family’s assets have been seized, and their past misdeeds have been publicly disclosed. Hendry Hampton has escaped and is now a fugitive."
The middle-aged man succinctly reported everything he knew, then cautiously scrutinized Maxwell Peary, who sat motionless on the sofa.
Maxwell Peary exuded a chilly aura, his face dark and unmoving.
His mind, however, was already teeming with various thoughts and ideas.
Those two were being overly diligent. Were they up to sothing regarding his little Rabina Mitchell?
TSK, TSK.
That Rabina Mitchell was so naive. Why did she attract so many admirers, causing him so much worry?
At this mont, the CEO completely forgot what he had previously said when Nia Mitchell claid she wasn’t attractive to others.
"Young Master Peary?"
The middle-aged man stood there, a hint of fear in his eyes. Noticing Maxwell Peary’s silence, he grew exceedingly nervous.
"Hmph. Since soone is already dealing with Hendry Hampton, you handle Robert Perez."
"Yes."
The middle-aged man nodded. After a mont of thought, he spoke up, "Young Master Peary, what about... Victoria Perez...? Do we still need to investigate her?"
Victoria Perez’s sudden disappearance indeed posed a potential risk.
"Continue the investigation."
ntioning Victoria Perez further soured Maxwell Peary’s mood. The woman had been missing for days, yet not a single trace of her had been found.
"Yes."
Maxwell Peary glanced at his watch. It was getting late. I wonder if Nia Mitchell has fallen asleep.
"Keep an eye on the Swan Family’s movents, and... find out where Anne Davidson is currently."
The middle-aged man was taken aback, clearly not expecting Maxwell Peary to suddenly ntion Anne Davidson.
"Yes."
Having given all his instructions, Maxwell Peary got up.
"I’m leaving now. Don’t contact unless it’s sothing important."
Then, without giving the n standing before him any ti to react, he was gone.
Everyone else was left standing there, their minds filled with a collective WTF!
CEO, you were the one who instructed us that anything related to the Young Mistress, no matter when or what, was to be reported to you imdiately.
No matter what it was, it had to be reported at the earliest opportunity.
So, CEO, what does this an now?
The n exchanged dismayed glances. To them, Young Master Peary was like a god.
So, it couldn’t be Young Master Peary who was wrong; it must be that the matters they reported were not important enough.
「Halfway up the Villa—」
Maxwell Peary parked his car, entered through the Grand Gate, and walked into the Villa. He saw the butler carrying a glass of milk, about to cross the Living Room to go upstairs.
Hearing him enter, the butler looked over and saw Maxwell Peary already sitting in the Entrance Hall, changing his shoes.
"Young Master, you’re back."
The butler, holding the glass of milk, stopped in his tracks, a wide smile on his face.
"Mm."
Maxwell Peary nodded in response, then looked at the glass of milk in the butler’s hand.
"The Young Mistress isn’t asleep yet?"
He glanced at the ti; it was almost half past ten.
"Yes."
Indeed. If Nia Mitchell had been asleep, why would he (the butler) be taking milk upstairs?
"Give it to ."
Maxwell Peary finished changing his shoes and stood up. He loosened his tie and reached for the milk.
Frederick Goldsmith subtly sidestepped him, still smiling.
"Allow to take it up."
With that, Frederick Goldsmith started up the stairs, not waiting for Maxwell Peary.
Maxwell Peary frowned. Frederick Goldsmith was acting very strangely today.
"Stop!"
At the sharp, simple command, Frederick Goldsmith froze mid-step.
Young Mistress, it’s not that I don’t want to help you, but I’m powerless in this situation. You’ll have to pray for the best.
Gazing up the stairs, Frederick Goldsmith offered a silent prayer for Nia Mitchell in his heart.
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