Chapter 430
Chapter 430:
She’d gone out in that.
He stood, grabbed his coat.
Minutes later, he was seated in the car, heading for Mirabelle’s studio.
His phone lit up.
“Mr. Laurent,” Dominic said without preamble. “You asked me to look into Daniel Williams. He’s Clive Granger’s illegitimate son. Rhys Granger’s younger half-brother p>
Ashton’s fingers locked around the armrest. “You’re sure p>
“Positive. He studied in Wessexia. Clive Granger was listed as his father. It’s on the records. I’ve got additional documentation, but p>
“Send it. All of it.” Ashton ended the call.
“Faster,” he told Gino.
The street narrowed ahead, snow clinging to the gutters, wind pushing it sideways against the glass. The studio was two blocks away.
He’d known something was off the moment Gwendolyn shoved that photo in his face.
Mirabelle and Daniel. The angle was too neat, too framed.
Someone had posed for that camera.
It couldn’t be Mirabelle, so…
At the time, Ashton had dismissed it.
The man worked at the studio.
From what Mirabelle told him, Daniel was a good worker. Friendly, kept his head down, polite to a fault. Mirabelle treated him like a friend.
Yvaine did too.
Still, Ashton had ordered the background check, just in case.
If nothing came of it, the file would be deleted.
gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․com is where your journey begins
Now he knew.
Daniel Williams was Rhys Granger’s blood.
Which meant he had no business standing within ten feet of Mirabelle.
Snow clumped along the windscreen as the wipers scraped back and forth in slow, struggling sweeps. Gino eased off the accelerator.
“Road’s slick, sir. We’ll get there, but not fast,” he said, eyes on the red taillights ahead.
Ashton stared at his phone, thumb tapping the screen again.
Still no answer.
He let out a short breath through his nose and hit redial.
Straight to voicemail.
The car in front of them hadn’t moved in minutes.
A line of hazard lights blinked ahead, casting orange pulses across the snow-covered street.
Two vehicles sat crooked in the middle of the intersection, a dented front bumper hanging low.
A uniformed officer paced along the roadside, torchlight flickering across.
License plates.
“They’ve cordoned off the junction,” Gino muttered. “Might take another fifteen, twenty p>