The Billionaire’s Fight For Redemption (Noah and Sierra) novel Chapter 434

I know it’s risky and probably stupid, but at this point I’m willing to follow any instinct that might lead me closer to Val. Maybe Noah’s men missed something. Maybe there’s still a clue hidden there waiting for someone to notice it.

Quickly, I jump into the shower and then get ready. I leave the guestroom and thankfully Lilly isn’t home because there’s no way she would let me leave alone if she knew what I was planning.

Before I can second-guess myself, I quickly grab my keys and bag and head out.

The drive there is tense from beginning to end, my mind constantly battling itself the entire way. Part of me knows this is reckless, but another part keeps whispering what if. What if there’s something there everyone else overlooked? What if this is the lead that changes everything?

Then another thought hits me halfway there… What if someone already bought the house and moved in? But even that possibility quickly fades because most people avoid houses tied to murders, especially ones that made headlines the way this one did.

By the time I finally pull up outside the house, my stomach is twisted into knots.

I stay seated in the car for a long moment staring at the property while silently debating whether I’ve completely lost my mind. Eventually I force myself to get out anyway, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling crawling beneath my skin.

The air feels colder than it should as I walk toward the house, a shiver immediately running down my spine. I stop instinctively and glance around the empty street, but there’s no one there and nothing looks out of place, but still the feeling doesn’t leave.

I exhale slowly and try to brush it off as nerves because honestly, breaking into a house where someone was murdered would make anyone uneasy.

The front door is locked exactly as expected, so I move around toward the back only to find that door locked too. I stare at it for a second before reaching into my hair and pulling out one of the pins holding it back.

Lilly taught me how to pick locks when we were seventeen so that we could easily break into Uncle Gabe’s liquor cabinet because he always had the good stuff.

Back then it had been harmless teenage stupidity, but now my hands shake while I use the same trick to break into this house.

After a few tense seconds, the lock finally clicks open. I slowly push the door inward and I step inside. The air immediately feels stale. Dust clings to most of the furniture, and it’s eerily quiet. So quiet that I can hear myself breathe.

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