"Clues," she murmured, her tone thoughtful. "And answers to a few questions."
Davis nodded, his interest piqued as he turned back to the screen, waiting to see what she would uncover.
Jessica’s eyes remained fixed on the television screen, watching as the attendees of the press conference trickled out in twos and threes, their conversations lively with chatter and laughter.
So paparazzi rushed to upload the conference’s outco onto their websites—it was always a race, as the first to break the news would draw the largest audience. Others, determined to catch any lingering drama, remained at the venue, their caras still rolling.
Davis sat silently beside Jessica, his gaze never leaving the screen. He had no idea what she was searching for, nor the paraters she was using to filter through the sea of faces, but he stayed, choosing to accompany her rather than let curiosity gnaw at him. Besides, he preferred being by her side while waiting for Richard’s response.
"Maybe making this even ssier wouldn’t be such a bad idea," he mused internally, a smirk playing on his lips.
Just then, Jessica’s sharp voice cut through the silence. "Yes! There it is."
Davis snapped back to attention, his thoughts pushed aside. He turned to her, watching as she abruptly paused the screen, her focus locked on the image before her. Without a word, she stretched out her hand toward him. Davis swiftly unlocked his phone and handed it to her.
She wasted no ti, capturing a snapshot of the paused fra.
Davis frowned, baffled. "What clue did you find in this sea of people?" he asked, scrutinizing the screen for anything out of place.
He had been trying to wrap his head around her determination to sift through a staged press conference for clues. Even more, he wondered how she could possibly identify one when she saw it.
Jessica let out a small sigh returning to her seat, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. At last, she had sothing—a link, a missing piece of the puzzle.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "A person. I found a person."
She fought the urge to pat herself on the back for her brilliance but stopped short, rembering how Davis would tease her for being shaless. Instead, she swallowed her self-satisfaction and simply let her smirk widen.
"A person?" Davis echoed, his brow arching inquisitively.
Jessica nodded, then gestured for him to co closer. Davis pushed his wheelchair forward, though a part of him wished he could just pull her onto his lap. But given the gravity of the situation and her serious expression, he set that thought aside.
"Yes, a person," she affird as she swiftly connected the phone to the laptop Davis had used earlier. Within seconds, the image she had captured filled the screen.
She leaned back slightly, arms crossed, and gestured toward the laptop. "Take a look at these people and tell what you see," she said, her tone carrying the air of a guide leading soone through a maze.
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Davis didn’t waste ti. His sharp gaze swept over the screen, scanning each face. Then, his expression darkened.
Jessica, ever observant, caught the subtle shift. "Did you see it?" she asked, her brows lifting in anticipation.
"I think so," he muttered.
On the zood-in screen, a man stood partially concealed behind a hall pillar, positioned just out of the audience’s view when the press conference had begun. His face was obscured by the shadow of his hood, his fra thin and unassuming.
Yet, towards the end of the conference, he had subtly turned and slipped away, vanishing seamlessly into the crowd.
Jessica’s voice was calm but firm. "What do you think about him?"
"An agent, an assistant, or the instigator," Davis replied, his skepticism barely concealed.
He had always been the one controlling boardrooms, making decisions that turned millions into billions. But unraveling a person’s disguise? That was an entirely different ga.
Jessica leaned back in her seat, her gaze fixed on the screen as she quietly analyzed her thoughts.
"The Allen Group has fallen into this predicant. The true instigator wouldn’t need to be here to monitor the proceedings, but that doesn’t an soone with ill intentions wouldn’t or probably the instigator might send soone to monitor"
Davis nodded thoughtfully, considering her words. "So, what are you thinking?" he asked, his gaze fixed on her.
Jessica’s eyes remained on the screen as she replied, "I’m thinking we should keep an eye on this figure—find out what he’s up to, what he’s planning, and most importantly, who he’s working for."
"Do you really believe he’s out for trouble?" Davis questioned, his gaze locked on her. He was still contemplating why Jessica was so insistent on keeping an eye on this person, but there was sothing to be said about a woman’s intuition.
Jessica t his gaze steadily. "Trouble doesn’t just appear out of nowhere; it stems from sothing. What if he has a vendetta against your family?"
"A vendetta?" He murmured as he quickly skimd through his mory for a clue of sothing like that.
Davis’s breath hitched. A mory flickered in his mind—the night of his accident. Yes, that sa night.
His voice dropped slightly. "I received a ssage on my phone the night of the accident." His gaze drifted, staring blankly into the distance, lost in the past.
Jessica’s eyes remained on him, carefully assessing his expression, watching for any sign of distress. "Can you recall its content?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm.
Davis thought hard, his mind reaching into the depths of that night, yet the image remained blurry. He rembered being in a hurry, striding toward his car when his phone buzzed with a ssage.
He had glanced at the text—just a quick scan—never giving it the attention it might have deserved.
Jessica’s voice pulled him back. "I’ve always felt that Desmond is a handful, but so of his actions seem to be carried out under soone else’s directives."
Davis’s lips curled into an ironic smile. "Doesn’t that just make him a pawn?" he asked, a hint of amusent laced with sothing darker.
"But he might never have known or even considered it," Jessica countered, her gaze sharp and thoughtful.
Davis leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his wheelchair. "Then that makes it even worse," he mused.
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