Mr Evan’s little pet

Chapter 8

As we savored the flavors of our breakfast, a man strode into the room, his sunglasses perched atop his chiseled head, his posture straight as an arrow. He moved with the confidence of a model on a runway, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. His face froze, his expression morphing into one of shock and awe, as if he had stumbled upon a ghost from his past.

The air seemed to vibrate with tension as he stood there, his eyes locked on me with an unnerving intensity. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he rushed upstairs, leaving us in an uncomfortable silence. I turned to Aunt Agnes, my curiosity piqued. "Who was that?" I asked, my gaze following the retreating figure.

Aunt Agnes's expression remained neutral, her voice matter-of-fact. "He's James Evan's assistant." She returned to her meal, seemingly unfazed by the sudden interruption. I couldn't help but wonder what had caused such a reaction. Was it something about me, or was there more to the story?

Meanwhile, in the study, James burst in like a man possessed, his face etched with concern. Evan looked up from his computer, his eyebrow raised in query. "Is she the girl you told me to look into?" James asked, his voice laced with urgency.

Evan's tone remained cold, detached. "Have you completed the task?" His eyes seemed to bore into James's soul, as if daring him to withhold any information.

James's eyes locked onto Evan's, his face inches from his. "She looks exactly like your sister," he whispered, his voice barely audible. The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Evan's expression turned menacing.

"If you don't move away from me right now, I'll feed your head to Snow," Evan said, his voice dripping with malice. The threat was clear, and James knew better than to push Evan's buttons.

"C'mon, man, stop disrupting our bromance," James said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He took a seat, crossing his legs on top of Evan's desk, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. "You're starting to scare me, Evan."

Evan's gaze narrowed, his voice firm. "Tell me what you found." James's expression turned serious, his voice taking on a professional tone.

"Well, she was an orphan adopted by the CEO of Stanford Group when she was 9," James began, his words painting a picture of a life marked by tragedy. "At 13, the CEO fell sick and mysteriously disappeared. There's no news of his death, nor any news of his k********g. The company has been handled by his sister and her husband ever since then."

Evan's eyes remained fixed on James, his face a mask of indifference. But James knew him too well, and he detected a flicker of interest behind those cold eyes. There was something about this case that had caught Evan's attention, something that made him want to dig deeper.

"It seems after the disappearance of her adoptive father, her education was stopped, and she's been abused by her aunt," James continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "The detective also noted that she has no history before she was brought to the orphanage. Basically, it's as if her life started at 9 years old."

Evan's gaze never wavered, but James knew him well enough to detect the spark of curiosity that had been ignited. There was something about this girl that didn't add up, something that made Evan want to investigate further.

"There's more," James said, his voice measured. "There's something going on within the company. There's no transfer of power, the CEO remains the same, but the company is handled by her aunt. Making the suspicions correct that the CEO is definitely alive, but her aunt's husband seems to be conspiring with someone else to destroy the company."

Evan's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with possibilities. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he considered the information. "Investigate her father and find out who she is and where she's from," he said finally, his voice firm. "Something isn't adding up."

James nodded, his expression serious. "I'll get right on it," he said, standing up to leave. But before he went, he asked, "Evan, have you visited Aunt recently? She misses you."

For a fleeting moment, Evan's mask slipped, and James glimpsed a glimmer of emotion in his eyes. It was a look of sadness, of regret, and James knew that Evan's relationship with his mum was more complex than he let on.

"I'll visit her," Evan said, his voice returning to its usual cold tone. "I've just been busy." James's eyes lingered on Evan's face, searching for a c***k in the armor. But Evan's expression remained imp

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