Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 74: From a shadowed alley across the street, a man dressed in gray watched it all unfold. Quietly, he pulled out his phone and said flatly, "Sir, the liquor was fake. And that woman…"

He rattled off a quick summary of Maia's actions. On the other end, silence stretched before a quiet chuckle rumbled through the line. "She's interesting. I might just find a use for someone like her."

With the drama at The Underbarrel finally finished, the crowd melted away, leaving only whispers behind.

Maxwell wasted no time heading back to the building across the street, where Chris sat waiting. "Chris, where exactly did you find that wife of yours?" Maxwell asked, planting himself in the chair across from him, no longer able to hold back.

Lounging against the window, Chris propped his chin on his hand, his careless elegance managing to be both effortless and annoying.

He never once looked at Maxwell. His eyes stayed fixed on the street outside, tracking Maia's figure. Only after a long pause did he arch an eyebrow and answer, "What could she be? Just a poor girl abandoned by her family."

"Poor? Are you kidding me?"

Maxwell replayed in his mind the steady, unshaken look Maia wore throughout the whole ordeal, not to mention her almost unreal skill in spotting counterfeits. Maxwell let out a bark of laughter, firmly believing that Maia was by no means ordinary.

Lazily, Chris tilted his head and asked, "Any clue what brought her to the black market?"

Thinking back to their earlier conversation, Maxwell remembered Maia grilling Vincenzo. "She's hunting for some kind of bracelet."

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"A bracelet?"

Chris turned to face Maxwell fully, a slight frown knitting his brows.

Shrugging, Maxwell said, "I don't know the whole story. Vincenzo might have a lead, though. I'll get him to send a picture. I'll forward it to you once it's in."

Chris nodded and stood up with a stretch. He yawned. "I'm heading home. If my wife comes home and sees I'm gone this late, she'll freak."

Maxwell blinked. Wasn't it Chris's wife who stormed out into the night by herself?

Strangely, Chris didn't seem concerned about where she had gone. He only worried that she might stress over him.

Maxwell could hardly believe it. Was this really the same cold, detached Chris he had always known?

Without sparing him another glance, Chris strolled toward the exit. Over his shoulder, he said, "Make sure she gets home safe. Keep it subtle. If something happens, it's your problem."

Then he slipped into the night, as carefree as if he had all the time in the world. Left shaking his head, Maxwell rubbed his temples and sighed. Orders were orders. No matter how weird they sounded, he had to follow them.

With a sharp motion, he signaled his men to shadow Maia - invisible protection trailing her every step.

Just outside The Underbarrel, Maia had barely made it to the street when a figure stepped into her path.

Lifting her gaze, she found herself face-to-face with the man in gray - the same one who had bought the tequila earlier. Her brows drew together in suspicion.

"Miss, my boss would like to have a word with you." The man shifted to the side, and only then did Maia notice another figure standing silently just behind him.

Standing a few feet away, a man in his early forties studied her with mild curiosity. He wore a dark brown polo shirt, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He didn't look aggressive, yet there was an effortless air of authority that surrounded him.

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