Claimed by the Crown Heir novel Chapter 28

Everyone said he was a prodigy, a man utterly unparalleled in the world.

But after hearing her father, George, describe him, the image that formed in her head was of a dull, humorless, and rigid old man.

The mere thought of wasting her life away with someone like that had prompted her to pack her bags and flee into the night.

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Leave it to me! Even though no one's seen his actual face, his public reputation is immaculate. There isn't a single scandal attached to his name. That's infinitely better than a scumbag like Lucas who can't keep it in his pants."

Seraphina nudged her shoulder and laughed playfully. "You can always build chemistry later. Just train him like a dog. Don't be too sweet to him, and he'll be eating right out of the palm of your hand."

Vanessa wasn't nearly as optimistic.

This was a man with a genius-level IQ of 220, a borderline sociopathic intellect. If he wanted to play games with her, it would take him mere minutes to completely destroy her.

"Don't underestimate him. Honestly, I suspect a man of his age with absolutely no women around must have some kind of hidden physiological or psychological dysfunction."

Nolan Nash, clad in a black motorcycle jacket, had just stepped out of the gear shop and heard their entire conversation word for word. A deep, highly amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Inside the billiard room.

Nolan tossed his helmet onto a leather sofa and looked at the man standing a short distance away, letting out a low whistle. "Ace, I just finished checking on the store and heard something incredibly interesting on the way over. It's about you."

Alistair Howard, known to his inner circle as Ace.

From his closest relatives to his oldest friends, everyone called him by his nickname. Over time, everyone just referred to him as Ace, and hardly anyone ever brought up his real name.

Alistair, wearing a perfectly tailored white shirt, leaned over the billiard table. His long, elegant fingers gripped the cue stick firmly as his dark gaze locked onto the pocket. With a smooth thrust, the cue struck the cue ball with razor-sharp precision. The ball connected flawlessly, sending the target straight into the pocket. His movements were incredibly crisp, exuding an effortless, innate aristocratic grace.

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