New beginning: Billionaire love story

Matthew frowned, his brows knitting together as he looked at Claire. "Are you sure you want to see this guy right away?" Claire nodded without a hint of hesitation. "Yes. We don't have time to waste."

Matthew scratched the back of his neck. "Shouldn't we dig up more information first? I mean, what if the guy isn't even home? We should have backup plan."

Claire had already tried tracing Rafayel's phone number, but no luck-his SIM card wasn't in use anymore. "We've got no other leads. All we can do now is show up at his house and hope for the best," she said, standing up from her desk, determination etched on her face. Without another word, Claire marched out of her office, Matthew trailing behind her with a resigned sigh. Soon enough, they found themselves heading toward the helicopter waiting on the roof of Metacortex.

The flight wasn't long, and after they landed, they hopped into a car. Matthew took the driver's seat while Claire, in her usual efficient way, navigated.

Matthew glanced over at her every now and then, but the journey was mostly quiet, save for the hum of the engine and Claire's occasional instructions. The drive was a long one-about two hours-but finally, they arrived at the neighborhood. It wasn't exactly welcoming. "It's worse than the photos," Matthew muttered under his breath as they drove past run-down houses with peeling paint, and yards littered with debris.

Claire barely acknowledged him, her focus sharp as she scanned the area. "Keep going. The house should be on the left."

Matthew parked outside the crumbling building Claire pointed to. They both got out of the car, Claire walking straight toward the door with a sense of urgency. She knocked firmly and waited, but after a long silence, no one came. Frowning, she knocked again-this time harder.

Finally, the door creaked open, and an older woman stood there, looking mildly irritated. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Claire's expression was all business. "Sorry to interrupt your morning, but I'm looking for Rafayel. Is he here?"

The woman's brow furrowed, her arms crossing over her chest. "Why are you looking for my son?"

Claire didn't beat around the bush. "So, he is your son?" she asked, though her voice carried more confirmation than question.

The woman let out a tired sigh. "He was. He ran away months ago."

Claire exchanged a quick glance with Matthew, but didn't press further. "Do you know where he hangs out these days?"

The woman hesitated before shrugging. "Last I heard, he and his crew were spending time at some abandoned house. Not sure if they're still there, though."

"Where's this house?" Claire asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Further out from the neighborhood," the woman replied, giving them rough directions. "But like I said, I'm not sure he's still around there."

Claire nodded, offering a brief, "Thank you," before turning on her heel and heading back to the car with Matthew.

As they drove to the abandoned house, Matthew shot Claire a side glance. "Think she's telling the truth?"

"She didn't seem to be hiding anything," Claire replied, her eyes scanning the road ahead.

True to the woman's words, they eventually reached a house that looked like it had seen better days-many, many years ago. The windows were broken, the door barely hanging on its hinges, and the overgrown yard made it clear no one had lived there properly in ages. Matthew stopped the car, and Claire hopped out before he could say anything. He scrambled after her. "Hey, don't just rush in there like it's no big deal! What if there are people inside?"

Claire waved a dismissive hand, already walking toward the house. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, famous last words," Matthew muttered as he followed.

Peeking through one of the broken windows, Claire saw... nothing. The place looked deserted, but that didn't mean it was safe. Pushing the door open, a loud squeak from the rusty hinges made both of them freeze for a second. Claire wrinkled her nose as the smell of stale cigarettes hit her.

"This place smells like an ashtray," she remarked, glancing around the dim, dusty interior.novelbin

"Lovely," Matthew mumbled, stepping cautiously inside. There didn't seem to be any signs of life, but that didn't stop him from staying on alert.

Suddenly, Matthew's ears perked up. He whipped his head around toward the back of the house. "Did you hear that?"

Claire paused. "Hear what?"

"Grass." Matthew's voice lowered. "Someone's moving outside."

Without waiting for an explanation, Matthew dashed back out the front door, his eyes scanning the overgrown yard. He caught sight of two figures darting away in the distance, weaving through the tall grass. "Hey! Stop!" he yelled, sprinting after them.

Claire wasn't far behind. "We can't let them get away!" she called as they both gave chase.

The two men ran fast, but Claire and Matthew ran faster. The rough terrain did little to aid the fugitives' chances Claire's heart was racing in her chest as she willed herself to catch up, her legs burning for the sudden burst of speed. Matthew was right beside her, his eyes fixed on their targets.

"Go left!" Claire yelled, gesturing for Matthew to split off and cut them off from the side.

Matthew nodded, breaking away left while Claire continued without slowing up, straight ahead. It didn't take long before Matthew was able to corral one of the men, reaching out and grabbing him by the arm, yanking him to a stop. "Gotcha!" Matthew said, huffing slightly.

This guy acted startled but didn't struggle one whit. He, too, was too winded from the run.

Meanwhile, Claire managed to catch up to the second man, who tripped over a rock and went down hard. She was standing over him, catching her breath, her arms folded. "Going somewhere?"

The man groaned, rubbing his leg where he had landed. "Damn it."

Matthew dragged his catch over to Claire's position, both men starting to look nervous now that they realized they weren't going anywhere.

"So," Claire said, her voice cool but with a hint of satisfaction, "we're going to ask you a few questions. And trust me, running is not an option."

Claire leaned her head to the side, studying them. "So, where's Rafayel?"

The men furrowed their brows in sync with each other, overacted visions of confusion etched on their faces. One of them-the taller of the two-spoke first. "We don't know any Rafayel," he lied, his voice

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attempting to be convincing, though

a slight quake gave him dead.

Claire's smirk grew as she slowly began to tap her fingers in a rhythmic pattern on the table in front of her. "Is that so?" she mused, playing the thought over. "Well, that's a shame. I was hoping for a more cooperative answer."

The shorter of the two men was noticeably the most jittery and shifted uncomfortably. "We really don't know anyone by that name," he insisted, casting a glance at his companion as if hoping for backup.

Claire hitched one brow, and the falsehoods didn't impress her. She let loose with a very dramatic sigh. "Okay then. Let's try this another way," she said, hunching forward a bit. "Who's in charge of your little crew?"

Both men exchanged glances once more but this time, their frowns deepened as they donned expressions, which all but yelled, What group? We don't know what you mean.

"We have no leader," the taller one uttered finally, scratching the back of his head as if he did this to buy time.

"Really?" Claire leaned back again, her arms folded across her chest. She cast her gaze from one man to the other, and she could almost feel the nervousness rising from them. Finally, she cocked her head, a sweet, treacherous smile hazing at her lips. "So, you want to play it the hard way, huh? That's fine. I like a good challenge."