Chapter 136 Suspecting Anthony
Roy was sweating bullets. After a few seconds of hesitation, he worked up the courage to speak. "Mr. FitzRoy, we have zero intel on Eastsun Village. No idea how many accomplices he might have there. Going in person is too risky. Let me take the team instead."
Alexander stopped and turned to look at him. "If things go sideways, I can handle myself. Can you say the same?"
Roy had no comeback. He definitely couldn't.
He was just a business secretary, not some freak of nature who learned mixed martial arts alongside corporate strategy.
But he had one trump card—Ms. Bourbon.
"What if Ms. Bourbon wakes up and asks for you, but you're not there?" Roy said carefully. "I mean, it's probably not a huge deal. Just a vulnerable woman feeling a bit disappointed. No big problem, right?"
Alexander's expression froze. Then, stone-faced, he changed course. "You take the team. Bring plenty of backup. Weapons are your choice. Stay sharp and bring him back alive. Understood?"
Roy exhaled in relief, nodding eagerly. "Don't worry, I'll bring him back!"
The rest of the room visibly relaxed too.
If their boss got himself killed playing hero, this entire operation would collapse with no one capable of picking up the pieces.
This was shaping up to be a long night.
Anthony cruised through the village once without spotting anything unusual, and irritation started creeping in. He lit a cigarette, his hand unconsciously moving to the small of his back before pulling away again, his expression darkening further.
On his second pass down the back street, he noticed lights suddenly flick on in a courtyard house. A tall figure crossed past the window before the lights went dark again just as quickly.
Jake lay on a bed in the darkness, munching on a cucumber he'd scrounged up.
Coming back to the country had been a massive gamble. Anthony had people tracking his every move. Jake knew that if Anthony caught him, he was a dead man walking—Anthony's personality guaranteed it.
On top of that, some mystery organization with serious resources was also hunting him both domestically and internationally. They hadn't pinpointed his identity yet, but they'd caused him plenty of trouble.
His time abroad had been nerve-wracking as hell. He'd had to relocate every few days to avoid getting caught. When he'd fled the country originally, he hadn't managed to liquidate much of his domestic assets, so money was constantly tight. Add in the need to stay invisible, and he'd been reduced to robbery and panhandling to survive.
If life abroad was this brutal, returning home would be even worse. He might not even keep his head attached to his shoulders.
But he'd come back anyway.
His sister's death demanded vengeance, and until he got it, he'd never have peace.
He and Mandy had grown up together with no one else to rely on. They'd survived countless hardships side by side. Later, when he'd opened the body bag factory and Mandy had graduated college with her career taking off, things had finally looked up.
Then Mandy had died. Just like that. Gone.
Sure, she'd been guilty of embezzlement and bribery, but the punishment didn't fit the crime. They claimed accidental death, but what kind of accident happens inside a police station? Mandy had always been perfectly healthy. He didn't believe a word of their official story.
That Arabella woman was no simple character. She'd been the one to expose Mandy's crimes right before Mandy died. When Jake had tried investigating Arabella, it was like hitting an invisible wall—someone powerful was protecting her. The more he dug, the more convinced he became that Arabella was connected to Mandy's death.
Even if she hadn't killed Mandy directly, she was definitely involved somehow.
He wanted that woman dead!
He'd been planning this operation for months. Couldn't risk public transportation, so he'd paid smugglers to get him back into the country. He hadn't even entered Majestic City proper—just spent everything he had left to hire some desperate ghost with a fake identity to do the actual dirty work.
As insurance, he'd sabotaged the truck beforehand to ensure his hired gun would die on impact, leaving zero evidence pointing back to Jake.
Everything should have gone perfectly by now.
A runaway truck hitting someone head-on—that Arabella woman had no chance of survival.
Jake felt downright cheerful about it, humming a little tune under his breath. Once this heat died down, he'd quietly liquidate his remaining hidden properties through intermediaries, take the cash, and disappear forever. No one would ever track him down again.
Just then, he caught the sound of extremely light footsteps outside. If he hadn't spent years dealing with danger and developed hypersensitive hearing, he'd have missed it entirely.
He bolted upright. In the darkness, he sensed someone entering the room. Without thinking, he swung a punch toward the intruder—
A blinding beam of light hit him square in the face.
Anthony stood in the doorway with a high-powered flashlight, not even bothering to step inside. Once he'd confirmed the figure on the bed was his target, he didn't hesitate. His hand went to the small of his back, pulled out a gun, and aimed.
Safety off. Chamber loaded. Trigger pulled.
Jake barely had time to register that the shooter was Anthony before a bullet punched through his forehead.
Blood pooled beneath him as he collapsed backward.
Anthony didn't spare him another glance. He holstered the gun and walked out.
Killing Jake had improved his mood considerably. The man had known too many of his secrets. Keeping him alive would've been like carrying around a live grenade.
He'd made this decision back when he'd silenced Mandy—both siblings needed to stay quiet permanently.
Secrets were only safe when no one else knew them.
He'd noticed that since killing that man in the basement, pulling the trigger had gotten easier each time. He used to try minimizing risk, avoiding violence when possible. Now he was discovering that dead men were just... convenient.
All of this should've been handled three years ago. He wouldn't have even needed to waste that marriage on Arabella. And Percy...
A flash of ruthlessness crossed his eyes before he closed them briefly. No, that particular loose end could wait. Besides, Arabella had actually been a suitable wife—far better than Cassidy. Might as well let that mistake work in his favor.
Thinking of Cassidy made his expression ice over. His voice dropped to a venomous murmur. "Cassie, I loved you so much. How could you betray me like this?"
"Now that this major headache is handled, I can focus all my energy on finding you. Better hide well, sweetheart. Because once I've dealt with you, I'll be bringing Arabella back home where she belongs."
He strode out of the courtyard and drove off.
Half an hour later, Roy arrived with his team.
After a quick sweep of the premises, Roy emerged looking grim and called Alexander.
"Mr. FitzRoy, we were too late. He's already dead."
Alexander stood in Arabella's hospital room, deliberately keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing her. "Identity confirmed?"
Disappointment was inevitable. They'd had a professional team analyzing everything with lightning speed and had moved as fast as humanly possible. He'd expected to capture someone alive. Being one step behind was frustrating.
But he wasn't angry. This wasn't enough to truly rattle him.
They had a lead now. Eventually, they'd unravel everything.
Roy's team had already run comparisons and gotten results. "It's Jake—Mandy's brother. Remember when Naomi and her daughter were killed? We found body bags from his factory at the scene. At the time, we suspected he was the murderer."
Roy sounded thoroughly confused. "But if he killed Naomi and her daughter to send Billy a message, how does Ms. Bourbon fit into any of this? She has zero connection to those people."
Alexander stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, expression neutral. "Maybe he blamed Arabella for Mandy's imprisonment. Or maybe someone hired him. I have a hunch the person pulling his strings might be Anthony."
Roy nearly choked. "Anthony? That can't be right. A few days ago he was practically begging Ms. Bourbon to remarry him..."
Realizing his mistake, Roy mentally slapped himself and quickly backpedaled. "Mr. FitzRoy, what makes you suspect him? Love turned to hate?"
Alexander didn't explain.
He had more information than Roy, though even he lacked concrete evidence pointing to Anthony.
This was purely instinct.
The Bourbon family's car accident. Anthony marrying Arabella. Anthony's support for the Gomez siblings. And his grandfather's death. Everything had started three years ago.
In all of it, only Anthony connected the Bourbons and the Gomezes like some kind of twisted thread.
Even if Anthony hadn't masterminded everything, he had to be involved somehow.
But none of this constituted proof. He needed evidence.
Alexander's eyes darkened. "Get me a written report once you've finished processing the scene. Also, keep close tabs on Anthony. See if we can track his movements tonight."
"Yes, sir." Roy hung up.
Less than thirty minutes later, the report came through. The forensics team had analyzed the bullet that killed Jake—a model easily purchased on the black market, impossible to trace to a specific buyer.
They'd also recovered tire tracks outside the courtyard, suggesting a modified Mercedes SUV.
But the village had no surveillance cameras, and every traffic camera on the roads leading out had mysteriously malfunctioned.
Someone had planned ahead even more carefully than Alexander's team, moving with precision and caution.
This enemy operated from the shadows and left no fingerprints.
After working all night, they'd confirmed Jake had tried to kill Arabella but learned virtually nothing else.
And Jake himself—they'd already investigated him thoroughly last time. Aside from deepening suspicions about Anthony, they'd made zero progress.
When Arabella woke up the next morning, she felt surprisingly better. Either her pain tolerance had improved or the actual discomfort had lessened, because it wasn't nearly as unbearable as the first day.
At lunch, Becky came by after school. The poor kid looked devastated, tears welling up in her eyes. Arabella immediately tried to comfort her. "I'm totally fine, really. I'm basically indestructible."
Becky's lip trembled before she finally broke down. "Can you just... be more careful... from now on? This was such a bad accident... I was so worried... I thought..."
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Arabella soothed. "I promise I'll be super careful from now on. No more scares, I swear. Please don't cry."
It took an arsenal of reassurances before Becky finally stopped crying.
Alexander watched from the side, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.
What would his and Arabella's future kids be like? They already had Becky. A son would be perfect—then he'd have both a daughter and a son.
The four of them living together, happy and complete. He could barely imagine coming home after a long day to his wife and two children running to greet him. The thought made his chest warm.
"Mr. FitzRoy! Mr. FitzRoy!"
Becky's voice yanked him back to reality.
Even distracted, Alexander's expression remained composed. He looked at her."I need to get back to school." Becky pouted. "Ms. Bourbon won't let me stay to take care of her. She's making me go back to class."
Alexander smiled. "Come on, then. She's doing this for your own good. I'll be here watching over Ms. Bourbon. She'll be fine."
Becky sighed like a tiny adult, hoisted her backpack, and followed Alexander out.
Alexander had just stepped off the elevator after dropping Becky off when his grandmother called.
"Alex, I can't come back yet. You need to get over here." Chloe's tone was unusually grave. "They've found traces of your grandfather's movements in Riverland before he disappeared. I need to handle this personally. I don't trust anyone else with it."
Alexander stopped dead. "Riverland?"
His grandfather had gone missing in Majestic City. How could there be evidence of him in Riverland? Had all his previous theories been wrong? Was Anthony not involved in his grandfather's death after all?
A dozen thoughts flashed through his mind in rapid succession, but he kept his voice steady. "I'll fly out this afternoon."
Chloe sighed, then her tone turned plaintive. "That stubborn old man. Even dead, he won't let me rest. I'd already bought tickets to come see Arabella, and now this happens at the worst possible time. How's she doing? It's not serious, is it?"
"She's okay," Alexander assured her. "The injuries weren't severe. She's already much better today than yesterday."
Yesterday she'd been ghost-white, barely able to move from pain, couldn't even eat properly.
Today at least she had energy. She'd even managed some soup at lunch.
He didn't share those details with his grandmother, though. She was already worried enough about Arabella. No point adding to her anxiety.
But Chloe lectured him anyway. "Injuries that serious can't be as minor as you're making them sound. I knew you didn't know how to take care of people properly. Arabella's a young woman—emotionally vulnerable right now. Stop acting like everything's 'no big deal.' She's not one of your employees. You need to show some tenderness if you want any chance with her. Understand?"
Alexander couldn't help but smile. "I understand, Grandma."
After hanging up, he returned to the hospital room to find Arabella freshly awake from a nap, cheerfully texting her coworkers. Gillian and Faye had heard about the accident and insisted on visiting. Arabella had tried to talk them out of wasting their time, but they'd bulldozed right past her objections.
In the end, they'd unilaterally decided to visit tomorrow morning, no arguments allowed.
Alexander walked in to find her grinning at her phone. "What's got you so happy?"
"My coworkers are coming to visit." Arabella looked up with a bright smile. "They're hilarious. If you're around tomorrow, you should meet them."
Alexander would've loved to meet her friends, but unfortunately he had to leave this afternoon.
He'd already arranged everything carefully and knew she'd be fine without him here, but his heart still felt heavy with reluctance.
Arabella was mid-sentence when she suddenly noticed the way Alexander was looking at her. Something about his expression seemed... different.