Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 358

The thing was, he and his sister Zoe had reunited privately. They hadn't gone to any official agencies for a DNA test or entered their information into the police database.

But the police still managed to find him by tracking his sister's phone records from the past few years, so Alistair had to stay on his guard.

Fortunately, Rosamund was currently filming a movie on a closed set, so she likely wouldn't be paying attention to outside news.

Feeling slightly reassured, Alistair turned and walked into the bathroom. He needed to take a shower to clear his head.

The next morning at ten o'clock, Alistair arrived punctually at a private, high-end recreational club.

Beasley was already waiting for him in a private room.

Xander opened the door to the room for him but didn't follow him inside.

Alistair walked in with his heart in his throat.

The room was extremely spacious, fully equipped with entertainment facilities. At the moment, Beasley was leaning against a pool table. Holding a cue stick in his hand, he was looking down, wiping the tip with a cloth.

"Mr. Windsor, you asked to see me?" Alistair stepped forward, his attitude exceptionally respectful.

Beasley raised his cold, emotionless eyes. In a tone that made it impossible to tell if he was happy or angry, he asked, "Do you play?"

Alistair tried his best to maintain a calm expression and nodded in response. "I do."

"Then let's have a game," Beasley slightly raised an eyebrow. "Best out of five."

"Alright." Alistair braced himself and agreed.

Then, they lagged to see who would break, and Beasley ultimately won the right to break the first rack.

Alistair's pool skills were actually quite good, but compared to Beasley, he was far inferior.

Sure enough, Beasley ran the table in one go, winning the game outright.

According to the rules they had agreed upon, the loser would break the second game.

Alistair picked up his cue and pocketed three balls in a row, until he made a mistake on the fourth, temporarily pausing his score.

Control of the table naturally shifted to Beasley.

The man picked up his cue with elegant composure, leaned over to line up his shot, and suddenly asked, "Aren't you going to explain?"

Hearing this, Alistair's heart tightened.

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