Accidentally Crossing the Tycoon
Chapter 146
Caspar’s POV:
I watched the tension in Ethan’s shoulders as my driver navigated through increasingly narrow streets.
Now we were entering a neighborhood, a forgotten pocket scheduled for demolition, where time seemed to have stopped decades ago.
“This is it,” I said, nodding toward a crumbling apartment building.
“According to my sources, Kevin and his wife live on the third floor.”
We stepped out of the car.
Ethan hesitated at the edge of the sidewalk, his polished leather shoes hovering above a puddle.
He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable as his gaze traveled from the overflowing dumpster to the broken beer bottles scattered across the
pavement.
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“People actually still live here?”
Ethan asked, disbelief coloring his voice.
“Yes,” I agreed, surveying the graffiti–covered walls and broken windows.
“The developer who bought this block is waiting for the last tenants to leave before demolition. Most have already taken the buyout money.”
The narrow alleyway leading to the building’s entrance was littered with trash and smelled of urine.
The stairwell wasn’t any better–each step creaked dangerously beneath our weight, and the walls were covered with decades of grime and peeling paint.
By the time we reached the third floor, I knocked firmly on the door of apartment 3C.
After a moment, the door opened just enough to reveal a woman’s face–or rather, half of it.
The visible portion showed a swollen eye surrounded by a purple bruise that extended down to her cheekbone.
Her lip was split at the corner, a thin line of dried blood tracing its path.
‘What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We’re looking for Kevin Lewis,” I said calmly.
The woman’s good eye widened with fear.
She shook her head frantically.
“I don’t know any Kevin. You’ve got the wrong place.”
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Chapter 146
“We have reliable information that he lives here,” I pressed.
“Well, your information is wrong,” she snapped, suddenly defensive.
“And if you’re here about money, you can find him yourself. I don’t have anything to do with his debts.”
I exchanged a quick glance with Ethan.
Her response had confirmed my suspicion.
“You must be Amy,” I said softly. “Kevin’s wife.”
Her face paled beneath the bruising. “I told you, I don’t-”
“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” I interrupted quietly. “We just need information.”
“Is he at home?” I asked.
Before Amy could answer, the stairwell erupted with heavy footsteps.
She flinched visibly, her eyes darting toward the sound with unmistakable fear.
Three men appeared at the end of the hallway, their expressions hardening when they spotted us at Amy’s door.
The largest of the three, a bulky man, stepped forward.
His eyes flicked between Ethan and me, taking in our expensive suits and polished shoes with obvious surprise.
“Well, well,” he drawled, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
“Didn’t know you had such wealthy friends, Amy. Been holding out on us?
Amy’s fingers tightened on the door frame. “I don’t know these men.”
“That right?” The man’s gaze returned to us, assessing.
“We’re looking for Kevin Lewis,” I replied evenly, maintaining my position between Amy and the newcomers.
The man laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor.
“Get in line.”
He turned his attention back to Amy.
“Speaking of Kevin, time’s running out. Either you come up with the money by tomorrow, or things are gonna get real unpleasant.”
“I told you,” Amy’s voice rose with desperation, “whatever Kevin owes you as nothing to do with me. His debts are his problem!”
The man’s face darkened.
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“You’re his wife. What’s his is yours, including his debts.”
He took a menacing step forward.
“Don’t make me teach you that lesson.”
“Look around you!” Amy gestured wildly at her apartment visible through the open door.
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“You think I’m hiding money? The demolition payment? Kevin took it all for gambling. Even if you beat me to death right now, I can’t give you
what I don’t have.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
