Chapter 137: Chapter 137

“I see,” Christian said simply, taking a final sip of his wine.

Not wanting to continue the topic any longer, Camille picked up her fork and pretended to concentrate on her meal despite the slight tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Christian leaned back and watched her with a slightly predatory gleam in his eyes.

“You know, Miss Parker, I’ve been very busy lately making sure everything goes according to plan.”

She looked up uneasily. What was he trying to get at now? “What do you mean?” she asked.

Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed to change. There was a sinister hint in the air, causing a slight chill to run down her back.

Christian leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“You know, I have to thank you for all the information you gave me about Harold Huckington. It was quite useful.”

“For what?” she asked cautiously. She didn’t like where this was going.

“Mr. Huckington’s usual tendencies, no?” he smiled. “He’s a known philanderer, having several affairs outside his marriage. But his wife doesn’t care as long as she gets her share of his money.”

“Yes…?” This was information that probably half of the world already knew, including Camille.

Christian chuckled. “Thanks to your information about his private estate, the one his wife doesn’t know about and where he conducts his affairs, I was able to send someone there to dig up more details.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Mr. Huckington’s weakness is women. The sexy, voluptuous kind. He’s a man ruled by his sexual urges, so he probably should have been more careful,” Christian said slowly, purposefully. “I sent a woman who fits his exact type to seduce him at the private club he frequents, as you reported to me. And he was mesmerized.”

Camille froze.

She had done exhaustive research, visiting numerous social media accounts to uncover the places Harold was often seen. It hadn’t been very difficult to figure out, but it had taken a lot of time.

For such an influential man, Harold surrounded himself with women who were only too happy to show off their encounters with him. They all had one thing in common: the Precious Club, the private club that Harold would often visit during nights.

The hard part had been piecing together where he took them after getting drunk at the club. The women were usually tipsy — and so was Harold — but Camille noticed that some of them posted pictures with landmarks visible in the background.

From these clues, she deduced and eventually confirmed that they were going to a private property a few blocks from downtown, in a semi-secluded, gated area. After further investigation, she discovered that the property had been purchased years ago by Harold Huckington. He was the owner, and he took all his mistresses there.

One woman’s social media account stood out. While she hadn’t named Harold explicitly and kept things vague, Camille recognized her as one of the women that Harold had taken to his private property. The dates and times matched. Her account barely had any followers, so it was more like she was talking to herself and going on a rant.

The woman had written an angry post about being forbidden from entering her lover’s private office despite her wanting to in order to showcase trust between them. She detailed that he didn’t love her enough even though he promised her that he would soon leave his wife for her.

Of course someone like Harold Huckington would say something like that.

From this, Camille concluded Harold was hiding something there. Something that he didn’t even want his mistresses to see.

“Unlike you, she moved quickly and did her job,” Christian remarked. “She got close to him, managed to get him drunk, and pretended to be drunk herself. Then, when he was fast asleep, she picked the lock of his private study and snooped around. She found a lot of interesting information.”

Camille’s heart sank.

“Just as I suspected, a spy,” Christian said, laughing mockingly. “If my esteemed mother’s family wanted to live up to their name, they should have chosen a better spy. A clever one, to be exact.”

“…What?” Camille said, confused.

“Ah, I didn’t tell you the story, did I?” Christian sighed softly. “I’ll summarize it for you, then. Do you remember what Mr. Huckington said that day at the company? About the truth of my mother’s death?”

“Yes…?” Camille said uncertainly.

She thought that she knew where this was going, but now she realized that she had no idea at all.

“Yes, my mother took her own life, but that’s only the simplest conclusion. If you think about it, there are always reasons behind such tragedies, right? Maybe she was depressed. But depressed about what? Let me tell you this…” He smiled unsettlingly. “My father was the one who drove her to her death.”

Camille stared at him in shock.

What?

“Not that he murdered her or anything like that, but he was certainly the main cause,” he clarified, taking a leisurely sip of his wine. “He just wanted to keep her as his and only his. He wanted to possess her. But I guess my mother didn’t like that, for reasons I’ve yet to understand.”

Camille couldn’t believe her ears. He spoke about his mother’s death with such a straight face, so casually and nonchalantly, as if he were discussing the weather.

The way he talked about her was detached, like she was just a character in a novel he had read, not someone he had a connection with. It was unbelievable… not to mention the implications of what he was saying.

“What exactly did Mr. Callahan do to his wife?” she asked shakily.

To be honest, she didn’t want to know.

But she knew that Christian would continue regardless. She had no right to interrupt or change the subject whenever he got into one of his rants. At this point, she was doomed.

He had already decided to involve her the moment he told her what he’d done to Harold. He only wanted her to know this story for his own selfish and nefarious reasons.

He had her trapped, and they both knew it.

A wry smile curved Christian’s lips.

“Oh, nothing really. Like I said, he just made sure she was his and no one else’s.”