My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 229

Chapter 229: The Leverage

[Jake’s POV]

The drive back from the Grand Lisboa was quiet.

The armored Maybach moved through the night like it was underwater. The engine was a low, muffled hum that I felt more in my chest than I heard. The windows were tinted black. Outside, Macau blurred past in long streaks of neon. Red, gold, white. They smeared across the glass every time it rained.

And it was raining.

Soft at first. Then harder. It tapped against the roof in a steady rhythm. Water ran down the windows in thin lines and distorted the lights outside. The air inside the car smelled like leather conditioner and the faint metallic tang of the AC.

The leather seats were cold against the back of my thighs.

I stripped off the Tom Ford tuxedo jacket. The fabric was still warm from the ballroom. Heat and bodies and champagne. I let it fall onto the seat beside me with a soft sound. I loosened the bowtie. Silk slid against my neck and came undone. The Julian Croft persona bled away with it. My shoulders dropped. My jaw unclenched.

We crossed back into the Outer Harbour. The smell changed. Less orchid. Less perfume. More salt. More diesel. More exhaust from the docks. The city here was louder even at night. A ship horn sounded somewhere far away, low and mournful.

I didn’t go to the penthouse.

"Original safehouse," I told the driver. My voice sounded rough in the quiet cabin.

He nodded once. The car turned off the main road.

The safehouse was small. Two stories. Concrete walls painted white years ago and now stained yellow. One flickering bulb in the hallway. The door opened with a groan and the smell hit me immediately. Old coffee. Gun oil. Dust.

Ethan was waiting inside, sitting at the small kitchen table.

A disassembled Glock 19 was spread out on a cleaning mat in front of him. Barrel. Slide. Springs. Each piece gleamed under the harsh overhead light. The light buzzed faintly. The smell of solvent was sharp in the air. It burned in my nose and made my eyes water a little.

"How was the gala?" Ethan asked, not looking up. He ran a wire brush through the barrel. Metal scraped metal. A dry, gritty sound.

"Crowded," I said. I tossed my jacket onto a chair. It landed with a soft thud. "But we got what we needed."

I pulled the earpiece tighter against my ear. The plastic was warm. "Overwatch, what’s the status on the data packet?"

"Decryption is complete," Nia’s voice came through. Clear. Precise. A little too close. "Superintendent Cho runs a tight ship. Her personal phone is heavily compartmentalized. No illicit offshore accounts, no offshore properties, no communication with known triad affiliates. On paper, she is exactly the hardline, incorruptible cop she pretends to be."

The fridge in the corner hummed. I opened it. Cold air rolled out and hit my face.

"Nobody is incorruptible," I said, pulling a bottle of water out. Condensation was already beading on the plastic. Cold drops ran down my fingers. "Look at her blind spots. Family. Medical records. Unexplained gaps in her daily routine."

I twisted the cap. It cracked open. The water was ice cold. It hurt my teeth.

"I’m running a cross-reference on her immediate family now," Claire chimed in. Keyboard clicks filled the pause between us. Fast. Relentless. "She has a younger brother. David Cho. He’s twenty-six, lives in Hong Kong. He’s a junior analyst at a logistics firm."

The bulb above the table flickered once. The shadows jumped.

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