When she hit the doorway, she couldn''t help but nce back, but the spot was already empty.


    Her eyes darted around as she followed Cody outside. Kyle was still pacing like a madman, with Cody''swyer tagging along. Seeing theme out, Kyle let out a big sigh of relief and rushed over.


    "How''d it go? Did you see him?" Kyle asked.


    Quinn nodded, the image of Alexander shing in her mind. His totally different vibe made her wonder if she even recognized the guy. Kyle, catching her bummed-out look, figured it didn''t go well.


    Cody, standing there, chimed in, "See, told ya it was pointless. You saw him but couldn''t even chat. Just give it up."


    She turned to Cody. "Thanks for today."


    "You''re my client. It''s my job," Cody said, adjusting his ck-framed sses with a goofy smile.


    He wasn''t exactly a looker, but hisforting presence screamed good upbringing.


    Opening the car door, he said, "Alright, let''s bounce. Feels like it''s getting colder."


    Quinn took onest look at the brightly lit building against the dark night, then got in the car.


    The folks who''d been hustling all day at the Lynch Mansion were also heading out, but Alexander got called to the study by Zeke.


    "Take a seat," Zeke said, motioning to a chair, but Alexander didn''t budge. Instead, he walked over to the desk, eyeing the unfinished oil painting on the easel. Zeke didn''t push it. "You seriously don''t remember that chick at all?" Zeke asked.


    When Zeke got the news, he did a deep dive on Alexander. How could he not know about Quinn?


    But since his son couldn''t remember, he didn''t push it.RêAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    If it hadn''t been for that woman, he wouldn''t have gone to New York City, nor would he have been ambushed and gone missing.


    Back then, he called Alexander back, and Alexander told him to butt out of his business. Honestly, Zeke had even thought about offing Quinn.


    But he didn''t, ''cause if he had, Alexander would never havee back.


    Alexander held a paintbrush, standing in front of the easel, sketching and painting without looking up. "No memory."


    "What are we gonna do? You can''t remember squat. You don''t even know who jumped you. Lance, I''m sorry," Zeke said, feeling guilty.


    "No need to apologize. Everyone''s got their fate. You''ve done what you could. All my crap has nothing to do with you, nor is it your fault," Alexander said.


    The distant vibe was crystal clear. Zeke was quiet for a moment, then decided to drop it. "Is your health better? When you nning to hit thepany?"


    Alexander paused his painting, then said, "Our family''s got plenty of talented young folks; they don''t need me. If you really care, let me chill for a few more years." Hearing "talented young folks," Zeke frowned.


    Yeah, there were talented young folks, but none of them were his blood. And among his current kids, not one was promising. The slightly better ones were probably on par with Cody. Just thinking about it ticked him off.


    When Larry told him Alexander was his son, he thought his prayers were answered. But who would''ve thought the son he found would be so checked out?


    If he hadn''t done his homework, he would''ve thought Larry was pulling his leg.


    "If I could, I wouldn''t wanna make things tough for you, but you know..." Zeke started.


    Before he could finish, Alexander suddenly put down the paintbrush. Zeke''s face changed when he saw what was on the paper.