Chapter68 Take Him Back for Interrogation
Downtown, in a high-end apartment.
The air still carried a faint trace of post-coital intimacy. Ariana wore only Harrison's white shirt loosely draped over her body. The hem barely covered the top of her thighs, exposing a pair of long legs.
She hugged Harrison's waist from behind, her cheek affectionately nuzzling his broad back.
"Harrison, after what we did yesterday, can't I really live with you?"
Her voice was soft and sweet, carrying a barely perceptible hint of grievance.
Harrison's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He frowned, reaching to pull away her arms, his tone carrying a touch of distance. "Ariana, it's not appropriate. Yesterday... I was helping you, which is why that happened."
Ariana seemed stung by these words. She suddenly let go and covered her ears.
"I won't listen! I won't listen!" She shook her head forcefully, her voice taking on a tearful tone. "It was my first time with you, and Harrison, I've liked you for so long. You've been divorced from Miranda for so long. Wouldn't it be good for us to be together?"
The two words "divorced" inexplicably irritated Harrison.
He turned around, looking at the tearful Ariana before him. For some reason, that bit of tender feeling in his heart instantly vanished.
He spoke in a low voice. "I'm not in the mood to enter another relationship right now."
"I know, Harrison. I know you're a devoted person." Ariana's eyes reddened, looking pitiful. "But please give me a chance to be close to you, okay?"
Seeing Harrison about to refuse, Ariana suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve, her voice dropping extremely low, carrying a sense of putting all her chips on the table.
"Just consider it compensation for what happened yesterday."
This sentence was like a shackle, instantly binding Harrison.
He looked at Ariana's pale little face. A complex sense of helplessness surged in his heart. In the end, he relented.
"Okay."
He sighed. "This apartment is under my name. Living here is close to your company too. Stay here and be comfortable."
Getting the answer she wanted, the sadness on Ariana's face instantly vanished. She immediately broke into a smile, wrapping herself around Harrison's arm again, pressing her whole body against him.
"I knew you were the best."
Harrison imperceptibly withdrew his arm and picked up his suit jacket from the sofa. "It's getting late. I should go."
"Wait." Ariana seemed to remember something. She suddenly pulled out two exquisite invitations from her bag. "Harrison, this is a charity gala invitation my college classmate gave me. Will you come with me?"
Harrison wanted to refuse, but Ariana's next sentence made him change his mind.
"I heard that at this charity gala, there's a company you've always wanted to work with. If there's a chance, you could get to know them in advance."
Hearing this, Harrison's slightly furrowed brow finally relaxed.
He took the invitation and glanced at it, nodding. "Alright, I'll go with you then."
Only after Harrison's figure completely disappeared behind the door did the sweet, obedient smile on Ariana's face gradually turn cold.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the black Bentley speed away below. Her eyes flashed with determined ambition.
Miranda, you never expected this. Harrison will soon be mine.
The next day, in a coffee shop.
Miranda stared at the investigation materials on her phone screen, her delicate brow furrowed tightly.
The person obstructing the company's material approval wasn't her father Dominic. This made her originally clear train of thought instantly fall into confusion.
She had thought it was her father scheming behind the scenes again, but the result showed it wasn't. So who could it be?
Christian watched his sister's serious expression and picked up his coffee for a sip.
"Could it be Ariana pulling strings?"
Miranda shook her head, dismissing the speculation. "She doesn't have that kind of capability to order around people in the relevant departments."
"Looks like whoever's behind this is well hidden." Christian mused.
"Yeah." Miranda nodded, a flash of coldness in her eyes. "Although we can't catch them now, they'll be exposed sooner or later. I'll be careful."
"Give me the materials." Christian extended his hand toward her. "In the years I've been managing the company, I've built some connections with people in the relevant departments. I'll help you ask around."
Miranda's heart warmed. She smiled and handed over the document folder she had prepared. "Thank you, brother."
Christian took the documents and affectionately patted her head, his tone gentle. "With your brother, you never need to say thank you."
He paused, changing the subject, his eyes carrying concern. "When will you come home for a visit? Mom really misses you. And how are Clifton's legs? Aren't you tired taking care of him alone?"
Thinking of her mother's gentle face and her brother's unknowing concern, Miranda suddenly felt her heart being squeezed by an invisible hand, waves of dense sourness rising.
They didn't know that she and Clifton had a contract marriage.
She lowered her lashes, hiding the surging emotions in her eyes. When she looked up again, a proper smile was on her face.
"Tomorrow I'm attending a charity gala with Clifton. After the gala ends, I'll bring him home. We can have a meal together."
"Great." Christian smiled in agreement, his eyes full of relief.
When she returned to the Prescott villa, the sky had already darkened.
Miranda changed her shoes and walked into the living room, but unusually discovered that Clifton, who should normally be sitting on the sofa reading financial newspapers at this time, wasn't home.
Meanwhile.
At the other end of the city, in an underground trading place converted from an abandoned factory.
The air was filled with the unpleasant smell of rust and mildew mixed together.
Clifton wore black tactical gear, his posture straight as a pine, his entire body radiating an unapproachable, sharp aura.
Behind him followed seven or eight similarly fully-equipped team members with steady presences.
"Bang!"
A locked iron door was kicked open.
Inside the room, a man conducting a drug transaction was scared out of his wits by this sudden turn of events. The case in his hands fell to the ground with a "clap," white powder scattering everywhere.
The next second, a pitch-black handgun was already precisely pressed against his forehead.
Clifton looked down at the trembling man on the ground, his voice cold without a trace of warmth.
"You're the one selling these prohibited drugs?"
With the cold muzzle pointed at him, the man shook like a sieve. His crotch instantly became wet, a foul smell spreading.
"It wasn't me! I... I only sold one packet! Please spare me! I'll never dare again, really never again!"
A flash of disgust crossed Clifton's eyes. He slowly lowered the gun.
He turned his head, issuing orders to the team members behind him.
"Take him back for interrogation."
"Pull out the entire supply chain behind him."