New beginning: Billionaire love story (Claire and Alex) novel Chapter 506

Claire scoffed, crossing her arms. “Observing? That’s all?” She leaned forward slightly. “Because from where I stand, it seems like you’ve been obsessed, not just observing.”

Eligos didn’t flinch. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine before setting the glass down. “The past is the past, Claire,” he said, his voice dismissive. “You should stop dwelling on it.”

Claire raised a brow and let out a short, humorless chuckle. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “If I should stop dwelling on the past, then why are you so desperate to find out about Allan Smith?”

For the first time that night, the easy amusement on Eligos’s face vanished. His expression hardened, the air around them growing heavier.

“That,” he said coolly, “is a different matter.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “And what makes it different?”

Eligos was silent for a moment, his fingers tapping idly on the table. Then, after a deep breath, he spoke. “I will tell you,” he said slowly, “but only if you tell me the reason why you asked me to meet you.”

Claire didn’t hesitate. “Because I know what happened to Allan Smith.”

Eligos’s eyes sharpened. “And?”

“It wasn’t because of me,” Claire continued, holding his gaze, “like you keep insinuating.”

Eligos’s eyebrow twitched. He had been so sure, so certain that Claire had something to do with Allan’s disappearance. But the confidence in her voice made something uneasy settle in his chest.

He leaned forward slightly. “What do you mean?”

Claire exhaled. “Allan Smith didn’t die because of me,” she said evenly. “The one responsible for his death is Robert Robertson.”

A sudden stillness settled over the room.

Eligos felt as though the world had just stopped. His breath hitched slightly, his grip on the glass tightening.

Robert Robertson?

The name echoed in his mind like a cruel joke.

The same Robert Robertson whom he had trusted, the man he had made deals with, the man he had relied on to manipulate events to his advantage… had he been the one responsible for Allan’s death?

“No,” Eligos said finally, shaking his head. His voice was quiet but firm, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. His gaze turned sharp as he glared at Claire. “You’re lying.”

Claire shook her head. “I’m not.”

Eligos’s jaw clenched. “Then prove it.”

Without a word, Claire reached into her bag and pulled out a photograph, sliding it across the table toward him.

Eligos picked it up, frowning as his eyes scanned the image. It was a picture of Robert Robertson and Allan Smith—together.

Eligos’s frown deepened. He hadn’t expected them to be that close.

“This proves nothing,” he muttered, setting the photo down.

Claire exhaled. “It does when you know the rest of the story,” she countered. “Listen, Allan died a few days after the car crash incident. The cause of death listed was heart failure.”

Eligos’s fingers tightened around the glass again.

“So?” he pressed.

Claire leaned forward. “Allan had no history of heart conditions. Nothing. His medical reports were clean.” She gave him a pointed look. “And you know who the only person who knew about my destination that day was?”

Eligos’s frown deepened.

“Robert,” Claire said flatly. “And knowing that Robert and Allan were friends, don’t you think it’s suspicious? Don’t you think it’s possible that Robert told Allan about my plans, then orchestrated the whole incident?”

Eligos remained silent. His thoughts were racing, colliding into one another as he tried to make sense of the information.

Robert managed to outsmart me…

The realization burned like acid. He had been blinded by his anger toward Claire. So much so that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Robert had his own agenda.

He felt like laughing. How foolish.

But beneath the anger, beneath the betrayal, something else nagged at him.

Claire noticed the shift in his expression.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why do you care so much about Allan Smith, Eligos?” she asked.

Eligos didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was still fixed on the photograph, his fingers ghosting over the edges.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Allan Smith…” He paused, inhaling deeply.

Matthew and Claire waited.

Then he finally said it.

“Allan Smith is my father.”

A stunned silence followed.