After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 76: A Step-by-Step Ploy

Moira Sloan was startled awake.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, her body slick with sweat and her eyes misty and unfocused.

To her, Kain Alden had been both a mentor and a friend.

Kain Alden’s death was a mystery. The official story was that he’d died of illness, but privately, the police had been called. Now, a year later, the investigation had stalled completely, without a single lead.

She hadn’t told anyone, but her return to Everwood County was largely connected to Kain Alden’s death.

A man in his prime, an exceptional figure who stood at the pinnacle of his industry.

He was a titan in his circle. If he so much as stomped his foot, the entire industry would quake.

To think he had just died like that. A year had passed, and the cause of his death was still unknown.

It was lamentable, horrifying, and utterly chilling.

The dream left Moira shaken, and it took her a long while to compose herself.

She got out of bed, took a shower in the bathroom to calm her nerves, then grabbed her phone and walked to the window to call Lillian Kidd.

When the call connected, Moira tried her best to keep her voice calm. "Lillian, has there been any progress with my mentor’s case?"

At the mention of Kain Alden, Lillian Kidd’s breath hitched, but she also feigned composure. "Not yet."

"I see," Moira murmured.

Lillian Kidd knew Moira and Kain Alden shared a deep bond as mentor and student. She sighed. "Moira..."

Worried Lillian was about to tell her to move on, Moira quickly cut in, "Lillian, I’m fine. You’re the one who needs to take care of yourself. Don’t work too hard."

Lillian sighed again. "I know."

The two of them chatted about other things for a little while longer before ending the call with mutual reminders to take care.

After hanging up with Lillian Kidd, Moira Sloan opened her closet, changed into a long dress, and went downstairs for breakfast.

She didn’t have much of an appetite today. She ordered a steamer of shrimp soup dumplings, ate three, and had nine left over.

Upholding the principle of not letting good food go to waste, she had the owner pack them up and carried the box with her to her shop.

Just as Moira Sloan was getting out of a taxi, Connor Quinn’s car pulled up as well.

Their eyes met, but neither spoke first.

As Moira took the keys from her handbag to open the door, she saw Connor Quinn open his trunk out of the corner of her eye. He called over Zachary Curran and a few other young men from the tattoo shop to help him move things.

When she saw what they were carrying, Moira Sloan’s brows furrowed unconsciously.

A comforter, pillows, a water dispenser, a rice cooker, an induction cooktop...

’Is he moving?’

Her hand tightened on her keys as she suddenly recalled the social media post she had seen last night.

The roll-up door rose, and Moira pushed the inner door open to go inside. She had just taken a step when she heard Zachary Curran say, "Connor, are you really planning to sell your house? I mean, it’s one thing for you to live at the shop, but what about Jade Quinn? She’s a young girl, and this tattoo shop is full of a bunch of punks."

"Cut the crap," Connor Quinn said.

Zachary continued, "Why don’t you two move in with me? My place is a little small, but it’s definitely better than living in the shop."

Connor Quinn’s voice was cold. "Forty-five square meters. One bedroom, one living room, one bathroom. You tell me how that’s supposed to work."

Hearing this, Zachary scratched his head, his expression troubled. "Then what are we going to do...?"

Moira didn’t hear what else Zachary and Connor said after that.

Her movements to enter the shop had already slowed; any more hesitation and they would notice something was off.

Moira Sloan pushed the door open, casually placing her keys and handbag on the counter. She arched a delicate eyebrow.

’What does it have to do with me whether he moves or sells his house?’

’Don’t tell me I’m actually starting to develop feelings for him?’

At that thought, she let out a self-deprecating laugh, then turned, went into the restroom to wash her hands, and got to work.

Meanwhile, Zachary Curran and the other young men had finished helping Connor Quinn move everything from the trunk into the tattoo shop. Ever the considerate one, Zachary squatted down, butt in the air, to help Connor unpack. Just as he was about to unroll the bedding, he got a swift, hard kick to his rear.

Caught off guard, Zachary stumbled and nearly fell over.

"Connor."

After steadying himself, Zachary looked up at Connor Quinn with a dejected expression, clueless as to what he’d done wrong.

Connor Quinn looked down at him, then squatted to meet his gaze.

Zachary: "???"

Connor’s expression was impassive as he spoke in a low voice, "Do me a favor."

Zachary had been with Connor for years and knew him all too well. The more indifferent Connor appeared, the more he was scheming. Zachary didn’t want to agree but didn’t dare refuse, so he steeled himself and stammered, "Wh-what favor?"

Connor said, "Go ask the proprietress next door if she has any property for rent."

Zachary: "!!!"

"You don’t want to?" Connor asked.

"N-no, that’s not it, Connor. The proprietress will definitely say no..."

Connor’s voice was perfectly level. "I know. I’m just telling you to ask. I know she won’t rent to me."

Zachary’s expression twisted in discomfort.

’Why ask if you already know she won’t rent to you?’

’Aren’t you just asking for it?’

But Zachary only dared to think this, not say it out loud. With a look of resigned acceptance, he slowly got up and trudged downstairs.

No sooner had Zachary left than Connor Quinn pulled out his phone and made a call.

The ringback tone played for a moment before the call connected. Connor spoke in a cool tone, "Murray, you in the market for a house?"