The whispers in the room hushed as Hannah’s voice fell silent.
The stout officer, visibly taken aback, signaled for a colleague to check the mobile database.
“There it is,” exclaimed the policeman. “A high-profile case from four years ago. The name and photo are a match. Miss Moore was a med student then, recruited for her forensic expertise.”
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“Is that so?”
Upon hearing the claim, the portly officer promptly snatched the mobile from the policeman, scrutinizing the information before glancing up at Hannah.
The resemblance was unmistakable, and the record of the case she had contributed to made his eyelids flutter with intense surprise.
The stout officer sensed a warning within; this was not a person he could risk provoking.
Handing back the phone with a forced smile, he addressed Hannah, “Had you shared this sooner, Miss Moore, we could have avoided such a mix up!”
Hannah shifted the topic away from herself, glancing toward Bryson.
‘s
“And what about him?”
“This.”
The officer’s eyes darted toward Remington, seeking an ally.
Hannah caught the glance and turned her head, her curiosity piqued.
Remington, engrossed in his own diversion, twiddled with an object in his hands, feigning ignorance.
Realizing he wouldn’t get any support from Remington, the officer made a quick decision. “We need to reassess the situation back at the station. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
As the officer’s words hung in the air, confusion swept through the crowd, and the assembly began to break apart.
Once the police had departed, the guests dispersed into the night, each with their own thoughts and company.
On the villa’s front steps, Remington caught up with Hannah. “Miss Moore, may I have a word with you in private?”
Bryson swept by them then, a slight hitch in his stride the only sign he’d heard them, before he disappeared into the evening without a backward glance.
Hannah halted, facing Remington. “What is it?”
His eyes searched hers, weighing her. “You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?”
“You brought this up yesterday, and I gave you a clear answer. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“There’s nothing you need to prove,” Remington replied, his gaze intensifying. “I trust that you’ll earn Wallace’s confidence and succeed him as head of the Compton family. But why defend Bryson today?”
At his question, Hannah’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “In this game, there are neither permanent allies nor adversaries, and I prefer to remain indebted to no one. Bryson did me a favor at the racetrack; I haven’t forgotten.” Hannah’s voice was steady, her expression serious. “Today, I’ve settled that account.”