Chapter 47: The Hidden Truth Behind the Case (Please Recommend!)

Mrs. Yorland, you wouldn’t want to... Damn it! Roan quickly put a stop to the thoughts echoing in his mind, took the envelope and check, and after glancing at the sum inside, a broad smile spread across his face.

“No problem, Mrs. Yorland. I can’t even remember where Skarsdale is anymore.”

Upon hearing Roan’s words, the congresswoman’s wife visibly relaxed; her grip on her purse loosened.

Before coming here, Yorland had fully prepared herself for Roan to ask for an outrageous amount, even bracing for the worst possible outcome. Yet when Roan agreed so quickly, his handsome but unremarkable face focused solely on the money and paid her no mind at all. Why did that leave her feeling vaguely displeased?

Roan had no idea what was going through the mind of the woman with the pet dog in front of him. Having seen the fifty thousand dollars in the envelope, something suddenly occurred to him. He looked up and asked, “By the way, Mrs. Yorland, I wasn’t alone at the time. My teammate Mona was with me. I wonder…”

Lydia’s eyes sparkled at Roan’s words.

Yorland’s heart, which had leapt up, slowly calmed again. She forced herself to suppress her annoyance and tried to speak in a steady tone. “I’ll find a way to contact her. This money is just for you.”

“OK.”

Satisfied with the answer, Roan’s smile returned. He tucked the check back into the envelope and slipped it into his pocket, then extended his hand to shake Yorland’s, wearing an expression of righteous conviction.

“Protecting federal taxpayers is the duty of every FBI agent.”

Lydia: “…”

Yorland: “…”

Rolling her eyes fiercely, Yorland scooped up her pet dog, exchanged a few brief words with Lydia, then turned and left the room.

Her daughter was still lying in the hospital, after all.

“You’ve got some nerve, Roan.”

After escorting Mrs. Yorland out the door, Lydia returned, picked up her water and took another sip, smiling at Roan on the sofa.

“Aren’t you embarrassed saying things like that?”

“As long as I don’t feel embarrassed, the awkwardness belongs to someone else,” Roan replied, pulling Lydia into his arms and grinning as he asked, “So, how did you get to know Mrs. Yorland?”

“I run a bar. Knowing a congressman’s wife isn’t that unusual. We just don’t keep in touch much,” Lydia broke free from Roan’s embrace, turned and smiled. “But I didn’t expect her to reach out today—to ask me to contact you. By the way, can you secretly tell me what happened in Skarsdale?”

Actually, after realizing the girl in the camisole was Yorland’s daughter, Roan pieced together the events of that day and had already deduced the truth:

Mrs. Yorland was seeing a doctor at the clinic, and because her examinations were frequent and lengthy, her daughter grew suspicious. The girl had doubts but lacked evidence, so when Yorland went for another checkup, her daughter skipped class and drove to the clinic.

Partly to confirm her suspicions, partly perhaps to talk to her mother.

But she hadn’t expected that, upon entering Skarsdale, she would run into Roan and the criminals exchanging gunfire, taking a bullet to her back.

The girl still had her own agenda, and since her wound wasn’t serious, she didn’t make a fuss but instead took advantage of the situation and headed to the clinic.

At the clinic entrance, she saw her mother’s car. While the nurse attended to her injury, she might have overheard what was happening in the examination room.

So, after her wound was treated, angry and frustrated, she got into her mother’s car, planning to surprise her.

But unexpectedly, the criminal who’d exchanged fire with Roan and stolen drugs from the clinic had also set his sights on that car.

Thus, the girl was assaulted and thrown into the trunk.

What followed was Roan and the criminal’s car chase and shootout, culminating in the discovery of the girl.

Once Mrs. Yorland learned her daughter had been in Skarsdale and was attacked in her own car, she must have deduced what happened that day.

Roan didn’t know if Mrs. Yorland regretted it, but he knew she ultimately chose to silence him with money, preventing these events from reaching her husband, Congressman Yale…

“No can do, Lydia.”

Roan mentally reviewed the sequence of events, then shook his head, pointing at the check in his pocket.

“You know I just received Mrs. Yorland’s token of appreciation.”

“Really can’t?”

Lydia asked again.

“Really can’t.”

Roan shook his head. He was a man of principle; when it came to getting paid for a job, he always delivered.

Hearing this, Lydia’s lips curled into a smile. She leaned in close, whispering in Roan’s ear,

“If you tell me, tonight…”

“Hm?”

Roan’s eyes lit up at her words. He licked his lips and cocked his head, asking,

“You’re sure?”

“Of course!”

Taking a deep breath, Roan shed his suit jacket and hooked Lydia’s chin with his finger.

“Gang rules: goods first, payment after.”

“No problem!”

With a mischievous grin, Lydia slipped from Roan’s grasp and rose from the sofa.

“But first, dinner, then a dance, then the goods.”

“No problem, darling.”

Roan nodded with a smile, agreeing to Lydia’s terms.

“Tonight, you’re in charge.”

Hearing Roan cave after a bit of sweet talk, Lydia’s smile widened as she headed for the dressing room.

Hmph, men.

Watching her graceful silhouette in the dressing room, Roan, still seated on the sofa, rolled up his white shirt sleeves and smirked.

Let’s see who you really are, what your intentions are.

And how did your previous husbands die?

—

Elsewhere, in a brightly lit skyscraper in Manhattan’s central district, Verinis had changed into loose homewear and was seated in her study, writing materials.

Ding—

The computer beside her chimed. Verinis turned and saw an incoming email.

Upon seeing the sender’s name, her brows knitted.

That name had never brought her good news.

Sure enough, after opening the email, its contents made Verinis clench her teeth, eyes blazing with fury:

Agent Roan Greenwood’s application to join the Columbus Foundation: Proposal denied.

Without hesitation, Verinis grabbed the phone beside her, dialed the number she knew by heart.

The call was quickly answered. Verinis spoke directly,

“Put me through to Mr. Clement.”

“…Alright.”

After a few minutes, a voice finally came through. Verinis took a steadying breath, suppressed her discomfort, and cut straight to the point.

“Why was Roan Greenwood’s application to join the Foundation rejected?”

“Because his rank is too low.”

At FBI headquarters in Washington, an elderly white man in a suit grunted and signaled his secretary to bring a folder. He opened it and glanced inside.

“Roan Greenwood has only been officially appointed for less than five days, and is just a junior agent. He’s not eligible to join the Columbus Foundation.”

Verinis responded coldly,

“Why is it called the Columbus Foundation? Because we need to discover new continents—new talents! Are you certain you’re rejecting Roan Greenwood’s application?”

“I’m certain.”

Beep beep beep—

Verinis didn’t waste any more words; she hung up immediately.