Back at the small corner café, Rex quietly flipped through the last few pages of the Whitmore family dossier. The docunts were dense with historical data—birth records, financial accounts, investnt patterns, suspicious foundations, and alliances that stretched across countries and decades. He wasn’t trying to morize every detail, just getting a feel. A general understanding. Enough to connect nas to faces, motives to movents.
And more importantly, kind of getting an understanding of how the real wealthy operate and stuff like that—because he was a small rich man too, and with the system, he’d eventually have to face things like that.
Outside the large window, the afternoon sun stread through the glass, glinting off the surface of his untouched latte. The coffee had gone cold, but the aroma still lingered, blending with the café’s warm cinnamon-sugar atmosphere. Indie music played faintly in the background, calming yet upbeat.
Closing the file with a muted thud, Rex exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He took one last sip of his coffee—cold now, but still potent—then stood up.
Seeing this, Victor and Kaelan also calmly stood from their seats and quietly went behind him.
Making his way to the counter, Rex pulled out his wallet to pay. As the barista handed him the receipt, he felt a strange prickling sensation—like soone was staring holes into the back of his head. He turned slightly, and there she was: the waitress who had served him earlier.
Her gaze was intense, eyes practically dripping with resentnt. It wasn’t the mild annoyance of soone who’d had a rough shift. No, this was personal. Her stare had the quiet fury of a lover scorned, as if Rex had whispered sweet nothings, promised the moon, then vanished into thin air the next morning.
He blinked.
Had he forgotten sothing? Misread a conversation?
His mind flipped through the last few hours. Nothing. He didn’t even rember talking to her beyond a polite thank-you.
Suddenly thinking about sothing, a strange chill went down his spine.
Wait a second...
He froze for a mont, a rare hint of unease flickering across his face. Had she—did she perhaps have so kind of connection with the previous Rex?
He quickly went through the inherited mories, flipping through them like files in a cabinet. Past café visits, casual encounters, fleeting conversations. Nothing. Not even a hint of this girl. Not a smile, not a wave—no shadow of her anywhere.
Rex exhaled quietly, relieved. At least he didn’t have to carry a debt of affection... or worse, resentnt.
Shrugging to himself, he gave her one last look. Maybe she’s just having a bad day... or maybe it’s just that ti of day. Either way, he didn’t feel like overthinking it.
He gave a small, helpless shrug and slipped a crisp $100 bill into the tip jar, figuring it might turn the mood around—or at least buy so peace.
The effect was instantaneous.
The waitress blinked, her lips parting. Her expression lted like butter on toast. Whatever grudge she harbored monts ago evaporated in a cloud of dollar-scented joy. Suddenly, a dazzling smile blood across her face like spring after winter. The cold resentnt vanished in an instant, replaced by glimring gratitude and giddy charm.
The Mafia Prince was forgotten in a heartbeat; her loyalty had apparently been bought and sold for a Ben Franklin.
Rex couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the power of money—not that he believed in buying people, but human nature was... predictable.
"Thank you so much, sir! Please co again!" she chirped, voice suddenly full of syrupy sweetness.
Rex raised a brow, amused by the speed of her emotional turnaround. Just like a scene from a romantic cody.
Amused, Rex strolled outside. The sunlight had softened, casting golden hues across the street. The air carried the llow scent of car exhaust, fried snacks from corner stalls, and a whisper of perfu from passersby.
As he opened his car door, a casual thought suddenly struck him.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he leaned forward and popped open the small compartnt beneath the dashboard. Inside was a simple black case—nothing fancy, just functional. He opened it and picked up the key fob resting inside.
Turning slightly, he held it out the window toward his two new shadows.
"Victor," Rex said, "head back to the university. Bring my old car back. It’s probably lonely there."
Victor arched a brow but stepped closer. The key clicked softly in his palm as he caught it. For a second, he just stared at it—then flicked a glance toward Kaelan, who stood impassively by.
Their eyes locked for a mont.
Victor looked ready to argue, lips parting—but one look at Kaelan’s cold, deadpan expression was enough to shut that door before it even opened. Rex didn’t miss the way Victor’s shoulders slumped, defeated by the silent pressure of his partner’s stare.
"You know I’m a bodyguard, right?" Victor muttered, turning the key fob over. "Not your personal valet."
Rex smirked. "Don’t worry, you’ll survive."
Still grumbling, Victor flagged down a taxi and climbed in, mumbling sothing about "career lows" and "chauffeur work."
anwhile, Rex eased into his own car, pulling into the light traffic. Kaelan followed closely behind in a plain gray sedan—the kind of car no one would look at twice. It looked like a basic compact model, but he knew it was definitely armored and stocked better than most safehouses.
Driving leisurely through the city, he eventually parked near a seaside restaurant with open-air seating, where the scent of grilled seafood drifted out onto the boardwalk.
The hostess smiled brightly as she led him to a corner table with a perfect view of the waves. A breeze tousled his hair as he sat down, glancing at the rolling tide beyond. It felt oddly tranquil, like the calm after a storm—or perhaps the eye of one.
The ocean shimred under the waning sunlight, waves gently crashing against the shore.
He took out his phone and texted both Kaelan and Victor, inviting them to join him.
Kaelan’s reply was instant and curt.
Can’t. Dereliction of duty.
Victor’s response ca a minute later.
Tempting, but I’m still on the way to the university *crying emoji*
Rex chuckled and shook his head. "Suit yourselves."
He ordered a simple al—a plate of seared salmon with herbed butter, grilled vegetables, and a glass of chilled lemonade.
The staff were pleasant, the food arrived fast, and the breeze was gentle. He spent the next forty minutes quietly enjoying his food and the view. No disturbances, no pressure.
(End of Chapter)
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