Next Man, Better Plan novel Chapter 25

When Quennel woke up, his head was pounding from the alcohol he’d consumed the night before.

He rubbed his temples and sat up abruptly when he heard noises outside his room.

She's back? He quickly washed up, changed his clothes, and opened the door. "Steph—"

He froze mid-word.

It wasn't Stephanie. It was the real estate agent from a couple of days ago.

The agent was accompanied by a portly, middle-aged man with a thick gold chain around his neck and a black clutch tucked under his arm—the very picture of a pompous, newly-rich buffoon.

The woman clinging to his arm was dressed scantily, her eyes roaming around possessively. She was obviously his mistress.

Quennel frowned. "What are you doing here again?"

The agent chuckled nervously and offered Quennel a cigarette. "Sir, I'm just showing the property to a client. Were you still sleeping?"

Quennel’s face was cold. "Stay away from me. And get these people out of my house."

The agent flinched at Quennel’s intimidating presence and took a step back.

But then he seemed to remember he was a professional earning an honest living, which made him no less than these wealthy folks.

He puffed out his chest. "Ms. Jackson told us this villa is in her name, and she gave our agency full authorization to show it. So it's perfectly reasonable for me to bring clients here."

The new-money client was getting impatient. "So, is this house for sale or not?"

The agent immediately turned to him. "Yes, of course, it is. Let me show you around…"

The group barged right into his bedroom.

Quennel’s face darkened instantly.

No one knew better than him how much effort Stephanie had poured into this villa.

Quennel narrowed his eyes.

This villa was in one of Veridian's most desirable, secluded neighborhoods. It was four stories tall with an outdoor pool and a garden, spanning several thousand square feet.

It was built with the finest materials. In a city like Veridian, where property was outrageously expensive, that price was a steal.

The wealthy client almost dropped his clutch. "How much?!"

The agent maintained his professional smile. "It's a very good price, Mr. Reed."

The woman beside him added fuel to the fire. "Mr. Reed, I think this place is wonderful, and I love the decor. Why don't we buy it…?"

As they started to seriously discuss their available funds, Quennel's expression turned thunderous.

The thought of people like them living in his marital home made his stomach turn.