The Double or more Life of the Fake Heiress (Mirabella) novel Chapter 1690

Asa was finding the whole situation more and more intriguing. If his memory served him right, this guy had been around the base for a good twenty years or so. Yet, he looked so incredibly young?

Santos seemed not to notice Asa's curious expression. He just said, “Thanks for the past few days. I should be heading out. If you ever need anything, just give me a shout.”

This was like a promise wrapped up in gratitude.

Asa gave a slight smile as he rose from his chair, “No trouble at all. I'll have someone see Mr. Santos out.”

Santos mulled it over for a moment but decided not to refuse. He already owed a favor, and playing it modest now wouldn’t be wise. “Thanks.”

Before long, Santos was on his way, driven off in a car.

Asa stood on the balcony of the second floor, watching the black car disappear from view, his face unreadable.

“Sir, why did you help Mr. Santos like that?” his assistant asked quietly from behind.

Saving his life was one thing, but purposefully steering away those who were after him? That was certainly not Asa’s usual approach.

Asa finally pulled his gaze back, tilting his head slightly. His sharp features looked even more defined. After a pause, he replied nonchalantly, “It's been a while since anything caught my interest.”

His assistant was left puzzled, but seeing that Asa wasn’t keen on explaining further, he didn’t dare ask more. “Should we have someone keep tabs on Mr. Santos?”

“What do you think?” Asa gave him a cool glance.

The assistant quickly lowered his head, “Got it. I’ll make sure someone follows him discreetly.”

The driver smirked, uninterested, and asked, “Heading back to the base, or somewhere else?”

Holding the box, Santos looked out the window. Just as he was about to answer, the driver’s voice cut in again.

“We’re being tailed?”

The driver suddenly seemed excited, sticking his hand out the window with a daring snap of his fingers. Then, without warning, he floored the gas pedal, and the SUV shot forward.

Santos barely had time to brace himself. The sudden acceleration threw him back against his seat, the pain in his chest making his head spin.

Anyone else in New York, burning the midnight oil and ordering takeout pizza to keep going? 🍕