Chapter 93
Noah’s POV:
Mirabelle’s words from earlier echoed in my mind relentlessly: “Don’t come back, Noah. Please.”
I leaned back in the plush leather seat, gripping my phone tightly. She begged me not to come back, but how could I Stay away?
I can’t ignore the fact that she was in trouble, and no matter what she thought, I wasn’t about to sit back and let her handle it alone.
I need to be there for her, to help her through the mess at her company, and to make things right.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Despite her resistance, I have already decided.
I am going home.
The engines of the jet roared to life, but I was too restless to focus on the luxury of my surroundings.
My jaw tightened as the memory of the news flashed before my eyes. Mirabelle’s company is on the brink of collapse. Fraud accusations. A shipment disaster. A fire. It was a chain reaction, one calamity after another.
Was any of this connected to me? My secrets, my choices? The choices I made-might have indirectly played a role in her struggles.
Did I unknowingly set this in motion?
I exhaled deeply and leaned back, closing his eyes. My phone buzzed, breaking my thoughts. Natasha’s name flashed on the screen. I stared at it, debating whether to answer.
Not now. I hit, decline.
The buzzing persisted until, finally, it stopped. Moments later, a text notification appeared: “Some officers came looking for you earlier at the hotel. They are currently headed to the airport. Don’t act stubborn, please. I am also on my way.”
I frowned. Officers? What the hell was this about? What could they possibly want with me? Before I could process, a knock came at the cabin door, followed by the hurried entrance of a flight attendant.
“Sir.” She said, hesitantly. “Some men are looking for you. They’ve blocked the cockpit and are refusing to let the plane take off.”
“What?” I shot up from my seat, striding toward the exit. “Who are they?”
“They’re officials, sir. They claim it’s urgent.”
‘What the hell is going on?’ I muttered under my breath.
Stepping out of the plane, I was met by a group of Chinese men dressed in official uniforms. “What’s going on?” I demanded.
One of the men stepped forward, his English heavily accented but clear enough. “Mr. Noah Sylvester?”
“Yes.”
“You are under suspicion in connection to the death of Mr. Ali. We cannot allow you to leave Shanghai until the investigation is concluded.”
I froze. “Excuse me? Mr. Ali is dead? That’s impossible. He’s not even in Shanghai-he was supposed to be returning from Hong Kong today.”
“Mr. Ali was found dead in his hotel room. We’ve gone through every single person he met here in the past week, but nothing useful was found. So the government issued that no suspect in the case would be allowed to leave Shanghai until the investigation is over.”
My brows furrowed. “Excuse me? How the hell am I a suspect? Mr. Ali hasn’t even gotten back from Hong Kong. My colleague went to pick him up earlier today, but she claimed that he bailed out at the last minute. So how exactly was he found dead in Shanghai?”
The officer’s gaze didn’t waver. “Mr. Ali has been in Shanghai for over a week now. And both you and the white model were seen with him two days ago. So you are both suspects.”
My voice rose. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying. I haven’t even had the opportunity to meet Mr. Ali.”
“CCTV footage places both you and the woman-Natasha-with him two days ago near Bao Li Xuan restaurant.” He clapped back.
“That’s ridiculous!” I barked. “I haven’t met Mr. Ali since I’ve been here.”
The officer’s lips thinned into a hard line. “That’s not what the CCTV in the streets close to Bao Li Xuan restaurant showed us. Please stop being stubborn and return to your hotel. Or you will be dragged to the station.”
My fists clenched. “I need to return to the US immediately. My wife needs me.”
The officer’s expression remained cold. “Mr. Noah, I advise you not to test our patience. We have strict orders. Besides, I know you are a reputable man in America. I guess you wouldn’t want your reputation tarnished like this.”
“Fuck you.” I yelled.
The officer exchanged glances with his colleagues. “We have evidence suggesting otherwise. We advise you to cooperate. Return to your hotel until further notice.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my voice hard.
“Then we will have no choice but to take you into custody.” He replied. “Like I said earlier, you are a respected man in America, Mr. Sylvester. I doubt you’d want your reputation tarnished.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “And I also said that I needed to get back to the U. S. My wife needs me.”
“This matter is non-negotiable.” The officer said, his voice unwavering. “Please, comply.”
I was about to retort when the screech of tires drew my attention. A sleek black car pulled up, and Natasha stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the tarmac. She looked between me and the officers, her expression was unreadable.
“Noah.” She called out, as she approached me cautiously.
I turned to her. “Natasha.” I called out sharply. “Please tell them. Tell them that Mr. Ali is not dead. That he’s not even in Shanghai.”
Her expression remained unreadable as she stopped in front of me. Her lips parted, and for a brief moment, I thought she’d back me up. Instead, she said softly. “Noah.” She said softly, almost apologetically. “Mr. Ali is dead.”
For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. “What are you talking about?” I finally demanded. “This has to be some sort of mistake.”
Natasha shook her head. “It’s not a mistake. He was found dead in his hotel room this morning. And unfortunately, you and I are now part of the investigation.”