New beginning: Billionaire love story (Claire and Alex) novel Chapter 505

Robert gestured toward the chair across from him, unfazed. “By all means.”

She didn’t sit.

Instead, she threw the printed photo of him and Allan Smith onto his desk.

For the first time, Robert’s expression changed. It was slight—just the smallest flicker of surprise—but Claire caught it.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, voice even.

“That’s not the question you should be asking,” Claire shot back. “The question is why you never told me you knew him.”

Robert leaned back in his chair, studying her.

“You’ve been digging,” he finally said.

Claire folded her arms. “And I found a lot more than I was supposed to.”

Robert sighed and rubbed his temple. “Claire, I don’t know what conclusions you’ve jumped to, but I can assure you—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “You knew him. You were friends.”

Claire’s voice cut through the tension-filled room like a blade. Her eyes locked onto Robert with an intensity that left no room for deception.

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Robert leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance as he smirked. “So what if I did? What does it matter now?”

Claire stepped forward, her gaze never wavering. “Because I know the truth.”

Robert’s smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly masked it with indifference. “And what truth is that, exactly?”

“The car crash,” Claire said, her voice laced with cold certainty. “Three years ago. The one that involved my family. That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

For the first time, Robert froze. It was only for a fraction of a second, but Claire caught it. His fingers, which had been casually drumming against the desk, stopped moving. His breath hitched. It was subtle—but it was there.

And that was enough.

A slow smirk tugged at Claire’s lips. “I can see it in your eyes. You weren’t expecting me to figure it out, were you?”

Robert quickly composed himself and scoffed. “That’s a bold accusation, Claire. Do you even have any proof?”

Claire kept her expression neutral, her arms crossing over her chest. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Robert narrowed his eyes, scanning her face for any sign of bluffing. “You’re bluffing.”

Claire tilted her head. “Am I?”

Robert clenched his jaw. “If you really had evidence, you’d have used it already. You wouldn’t be standing here trying to intimidate me.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized your time was up.”

Robert forced a laugh. “You’re playing games, Claire. But let’s say—just for argument’s sake—you do have something on me. What if the so-called ‘evidence’ you found is fabricated? What if someone planted it to frame me?”

Claire scoffed. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

Robert leaned forward, his tone turning dark. “You know, Claire, you shouldn’t throw around accusations unless you’re absolutely sure you can back them up.”

She met his gaze, unshaken. “Oh, I’m sure.”

Robert let out a dry chuckle. “Then show me.”

Claire smirked. “Why should I?”

His patience was wearing thin. “Because if you don’t, then we both know you have nothing.”

Claire held his gaze for a moment before taking a step back. “We’ll see,” she said coolly. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Matthew followed closely behind her, but not before throwing Robert one last warning glance.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Robert’s carefully constructed facade shattered.

His face twisted in fury as he grabbed the glass of whiskey from his desk and hurled it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, but it did nothing to quell his rising anger.

“Damn it!” he roared, slamming his fists onto the desk.

Papers went flying as he swept them to the floor. His breathing was heavy and erratic. Claire knew too much.

He had underestimated her.

And now, it was dangerous.

If she really had evidence—if she could prove he was involved—then everything he had built would come crashing down.

He needed to act. Fast.

Outside the office, Claire walked briskly down the hallway, her mind racing.

Matthew kept up with her pace, his expression unreadable. “What’s next?” he finally asked.