Chapter 116: I Won’t Follow You Anymore

Chapter 116: I Won’t Follow You Anymore

"Not necessarily."

James shook his head.

"Someone might have found out about this property through other channels. Let's go after them first. We'll talk about the rest when Daniel gets back."

Xavier nodded, turned around and left.

James returned to the bedside and sat down next to Cleo.

Cleo leaned over, pressing her face against his shoulder, her hand gripping his arm tightly...

"James."

"What is it?"

"Just now... I thought... I thought you were going to..."

"I won't."

James's voice was calm.

"Bullets can't get through my mattress. It's custom-made. I used to doubt my mattress's capabilities, but today the assassin helped me test it out. Quality's pretty good. I'll leave the mattress company a positive review later."

Cleo froze for a moment, then laughed—a small, brief laugh that quickly stopped.

Her tears finally fell, one by one, landing on James's arm.

"You're still in the mood to joke! You're terrible! James, that was really dangerous just now! I was so scared of losing you!"

Cleo said through her tears.

This time James didn't laugh.

He watched her cry and waited for her to finish.

Half an hour later, Daniel came back.

He had led people deep into the woods. The footprints were cut off by a small stream. The shooter had obviously prepared an escape route in advance. After crossing the stream, there was a car waiting. The license plate was fake, and they headed north.

"We lost them."

Daniel stood in the living room, placing his gun on the table, his face dark.

"They prepared for at least two weeks. Escape route, transportation, backup—everything was arranged."

Matthew came downstairs with his laptop, pushing up his glasses.

"I checked the surveillance cameras in the area, but they avoided all of them. It wasn't luck—they had scouted beforehand and knew the position of every camera."

Wesley followed Matthew, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold. He wasn't drinking it, just holding it.

"Boss, who do you think it was?"

Everyone looked at James.

James sat on the sofa with a map of the area around the villa spread out in front of him. Daniel had marked the shooter's escape route on it.

His finger tapped lightly on the map—once, twice, three times.

"Xavier, what do you think?"

James asked.

Xavier stood by the window with his arms crossed, thinking.

"I think it's people from Lumaria that we didn't clean up completely. The Davis family may be behaving now, but Max is a deep thinker. Kian is still in our hands. Max appears cooperative on the surface, but he might not accept it in his heart."

"Kian is still learning to be a foot soldier under Wesley."

James said.

"If Max really wanted to kill me, he wouldn't choose Novaria. His influence in Lumaria means nothing in Novaria. He doesn't have that capability."

Daniel picked up the thread.

"Then could it be the Jace family? Even though you drove Mal away and Yosef submitted his resignation, they can't possibly not hold a grudge. They've been running things at Apex Global Enterprises for decades. Their influence in Novaria runs deep. They have the capability."

James shook his head.

"Mal just left. Even if I got killed now, he couldn't come back. The board wouldn't let an exiled person return to power. The Jace family wouldn't do something that hurts others without benefiting themselves."

Matthew pushed up his glasses.

"Then could it be someone from Emberlyn's royal family?"

Everyone looked at him at once.

"Emberlyn?"

Daniel's brow furrowed.

"You mean Rhett?"

"Rhett or someone else."

Matthew turned his laptop around. On the screen was a satellite image of The Apex Residence.

"Boss agreed to meet in person on the dark web and took a 20 billion euro advance payment, but never went. It's been three months. They're getting impatient and sent someone to push things along—that's not impossible."

Wesley chimed in from the side.

"20 billion euros! Boss, you took 20 billion euros?"

James glanced at him without speaking.

Wesley shrank back and didn't dare ask more.

Matthew continued.

"Rhett is hot-tempered. We can tell from the chat records on the dark web—he's messaging more and more frequently, and his tone is getting more aggressive. This kind of person can't wait."

"Killing me won't get him the formula."

James said.

"No matter how impatient he is, he won't throw away 20 billion euros."

Matthew paused.

That was true too.

If James died, those 20 billion euros would be wasted. No matter how rich Rhett was, that's not how you spend money.

And killing James wouldn't get them the formula...

James had hidden the key steps very deeply. He was the only person in the world who knew them.

"Then who could it be?"

Matthew frowned.

"Drug lords from Southeast Asia? Arms dealers from South America? Competitors in Novaria?"

Daniel shook his head.

"Southeast Asian drug lords can't track the boss's movements. South American arms dealers don't have that kind of reach. Competitors in Novaria... anyone who could fight has already been beaten into submission by the boss. Those who can't are still lying in the hospital."

After going around in circles, they had no conclusion.

James never spoke. His finger kept tapping lightly on the map—once, twice, three times.

Cleo sat next to James, wrapped in a blanket, holding a cup of hot tea that had gone cold. She hadn't drunk it.

She listened to their analysis... the Davis family, the Jace family, Emberlyn's royal family, Southeast Asian drug lords, South American arms dealers... Each name was like a stone dropping on her heart, heavy and oppressive.

She suddenly remembered what James had said...

"Being by my side is very dangerous."

She hadn't understood before.

She thought danger was those visible things...

Someone pointing a gun at you, someone holding a knife to your throat, someone driving a car at you.

That kind of danger was direct and violent, but at least you knew danger was coming. You could run, hide, or call for help.

What she didn't know was that real danger is what you can't see.

It's the gun barrel hidden deep in the woods.

It's the camera blind spots that were scouted in advance.

It's the escape routes prepared half a month ahead.

You don't know who they are, don't know when they'll come, don't know why they want to kill you.

You can only wait.

Wait for them to shoot, then pray that bullet doesn't hit you.

"James."

Cleo's voice was so soft it was almost drowned out by the discussion in the living room.

James turned his head to look at her.

"Am I... causing you trouble?"

Her voice was trembling.

James looked at her and was silent for two seconds.

"It's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault."

Cleo lowered her head, her fingers gently rubbing the teacup.

"But if you hadn't come to pick me up, you wouldn't have come here, and they wouldn't have had the chance to shoot."

The living room fell quiet for a moment.

Daniel and Matthew exchanged glances but said nothing.

James reached out, took the teacup from Cleo's hands, and set it on the coffee table. Then he held both her hands. They were very cold, colder than the ice and snow outside.

"There are no 'ifs.'"

James said.

"I came to pick you up because I wanted to. Someone wants to kill me because someone wants to kill me. These two things are not related."

Cleo looked up at him.

Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying.

"James, I won't follow you anymore."