It had been a long while since I last had this feeling. I wanted to be alone with Hendrix, stick to him, and do nothing. That was good enough for me.
This was likely because the dull period between us had passed.
"Not yet," Hendrix answered faintly, brought me to the gate, and headed for the parking lot.
I spotted the black business car Evan had driven. Hendrix opened the door and helped me in.
There was no one in the car. On the passenger seat sat a laptop. After Hendrix sat down, he picked it up and placed it on his knees, typing away on it.
Soon, a series of photos emerged on the screen. Hendrix clicked on each of them and zoomed in while my eyes widened at what I was looking at.
The person in the photo was none other than "me" entering a high- end club with different men. It was, however, obvious that the woman was not me.
I noticed that the last photo was the incomplete picture I had seen in the woman's purse from before.
The man, who only revealed half of his face, had finally untied his mysterious veil, and it was nothing surprising.
It was Jordan.
That man was best at enriching his strength and storing energy. He had destroyed the entire Marshall family the moment he made his move. If he was the one who had manipulated everything in the dark, things would definitely make more sense.
"Now that you know who's behind this, are you relieved?" Hendrix asked with a relaxed expression. He didn't seem to be under pressure from Jordan.
"A little." I took a deep breath and looked at the pictures on the computer, still puzzled. "Why bother? Jordan hated the Marshall family and wanted freedom. Now that he has achieved his goal, why is he still targeting us?"
Hendrix laughed mockingly. "Lunatics don't act based on reason."
"But this is disgusting." I vented my frustration by saying, "We could have had peaceful lives. Why does he insist on disturbing us from time to time like a fly that we can't get rid of?"
I'm writing?"
As I had been focused on what Hendrix might be thinking about, I did not pay much attention to what he was doing with my hands. I could only vaguely remember that a few strokes resembled the word "Reid". Tentatively, I asked, "Reid?"
Hendrix lifted the corners of his mouth and narrowed his eyes. "That's right."
Then he lowered his head and continued to write another word.
This time, I made sure to pay more attention to it, and before he could finish writing, I pointed out, "Roberts. Your name."
Hendrix did not raise his head until he finished writing the last stroke. His dark eyes were as deep as a bottomless black pool as he said, "Wrong. It's still Reid. Both of them were Reid."
"That's impossible." I had been staring at his movements the whole time. There was no way I could have mistakenly guessed the word. "The second word is Roberts!"
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