HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 898

The question immediately made the woman knit her brows in confusion. "No."

"Or perhaps this house was rented by someone else before you moved in?" Chris pressed.

"Never. We've always lived here ourselves."

Before Chris could ask another question, the man who had been in the garage strode toward them. "What's going on?" he asked his wife directly, his eyes fixed on Chris with suspicion.

"I don't know. This man came here and keeps asking questions about our house," his wife explained anxiously.

The man's expression immediately turned sharp and unfriendly. "Who are you?" he demanded firmly.

Chris promptly took out his identification to ease the tension. "I'm Chris Miller. I'm looking for someone."

"If you're looking for someone, then why have you been watching our house from inside your car all this time?" the man asked, his voice rising as he felt his family's privacy had been violated.

"I just wanted to make sure the address I had was correct," Chris replied, doing his best to remain calm.

"What address?"

Chris held up his phone, displaying the location details Brandon had sent him. The man glanced at it briefly, then quickly shook his head. "That is our home address. But there's no one here except our family."

Chris fell silent for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" The man's face had begun to flush with irritation from being questioned repeatedly. "This is my house, and we're not hiding anyone."

The little boy who had been playing in the yard walked over and clung to his father's leg, frightened by the situation. Seeing that, Chris immediately took a step back. He had no intention of making matters worse or causing the small family to feel even more threatened.

"Once again, I sincerely apologize for the misunderstanding."

Without another word, Chris turned around and got back into his car. The moment the door closed, he leaned his head against the seat, overwhelmed by unease.

"Damn it!" Chris cursed, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. "Is Brandon playing games with me?"

He started the engine and drove away from the area. Even then, through the rearview mirror, Chris took one last look at the house he had just visited. And... there was truly nothing suspicious about it.

"If this isn't where Naomi is being held, then where is she?" Chris muttered. "And why did Brandon give me this address? This is unbelievable!"

The entire drive away from the neighborhood, Chris couldn't stop cursing. He reached for his phone, intending to call Brandon. If necessary, he wanted to see the man immediately.

Brandon's name was already on the screen. His thumb was just about to press the call button when a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

What if the man had deliberately given him a fake address?

"Come to Black Tower."

Chris frowned. "Now?"

"Now."

"But—"

"There are a few things we need to discuss together." Cale's voice remained even, but it was enough for Chris to realize that the man had found something.

Chris let out a long sigh. "All right."

He ended the call immediately and, without hesitation, turned the steering wheel toward Carrington Bay's business district. The evening sky was beginning to darken, signaling the approach of night. But they still had no idea where Naomi and Lydia were.

Chris hoped, truly hoped, that Naomi was safe. And Lydia as well.

It took Chris forty-five minutes to reach Black Tower, located within the Carrington Bay branch complex of TnC Group. As soon as his car pulled up to the lobby, he hurried into the building, which was dominated by black and gray tones. Though it gave off a somber impression, the interior design was elegant and luxurious.

Ignoring the glances from several employees who recognized him, he went straight to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. As the elevator ascended, his thoughts grew increasingly chaotic. A soft chime announced its arrival.

The moment the doors opened, Chris strode quickly toward the main conference room at the end of the corridor. The nearly three-meter-tall wooden door was already open. Vincent, who was standing near the head of the conference table, looked up. His expression was serious, and he was holding a tablet in his hand.