Chapter 7 Uninvited Peace

Meanwhile, far from the peaceful condo, a very different scene was unfolding.

"Boss, we've got a problem. Rucco's refusing to pay again. It's like he wants you to collect the money yourself," Dean reported calmly but firmly.

Maverick didn't look up. He was seated at a long table, carefully counting bundles of cash. The bills were stacked high-each one intended to be used for an upcoming weapons deal his father had arranged.

Without missing a beat, Maverick replied coldly, "Give him one more warning. If he still doesn't pay... kill him. Burn everything he owns."

There was no anger in his voice-just cold instructions, as if he were discussing the weather. Dean didn't react. He knew Maverick's nature too well. He simply nodded and stepped aside to call Marshall and relay the order.

Maverick stayed focused on the cash, lining up the stacks with precision. But then his phone buzzed beside him.

"Hm? Unknown number?" he said with a frown. He didn't recognize it. He hadn't given out his personal number in a long time-not even to his most trusted men. Without thinking much, he deleted the message and continued counting.

But just a few seconds later, the phone buzzed again. Another message from the same unknown number.

That time, something about the timing-and maybe a strange feeling in his chest-made him pause.

Dean looked up when Maverick suddenly stood from his chair.

"What's wrong, Boss? Is something going on?"

"Huh? No... nothing." Maverick avoided eye contact, but his movements were quick and sharp. He pointed to the table. "Just pack all of this into the attaché case."

Dean obeyed immediately, but his eyes narrowed slightly. Maverick was pacing now, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other clenching his phone.

Something wasn't right.

"Boss?" Dean tried again. "You okay?"

Maverick stopped pacing. "Have you given anyone my personal number lately?"

"No, Boss. Never. Why?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

But Dean was already getting suspicious. He watched his boss carefully. Maverick rarely showed emotion-yet here he was, clearly unsettled, walking back and forth like a caged animal.

Maverick tapped his phone screen. This time, the message opened by accident.

He froze.

His eyes narrowed as he read the words on the screen.

Dean blinked in confusion as Maverick's jaw tensed.

"Boss, you're walking so fast I'm getting dizzy. Can you chill for a second?"

Maverick didn't answer right away.

"Someone texted me," he finally said, his voice low.

"Oh? You got a secret admirer now? Nice!" Dean joked, raising his eyebrows with a grin.

Maverick suddenly spun around, his face serious. "Don't joke around, Dean. I'm serious!"

Dean's smile dropped. "S-Sorry, Boss! I thought-never mind. What did the message say? Was it a threat?"

"No."

"Then what? Who was it?"

Maverick's grip on the phone tightened. Then, without a word, he tossed it toward Dean, who barely caught it.

Dean squinted at the message.

"I miss you... When are we seeing each other again?" he read out loud, his voice trailing off at the end.

His eyes slowly looked up at Maverick.

"Ohhh," he said softly. "Boss... who is it?"

Maverick didn't respond. He just stared at the wall-his thoughts racing, his heart pounding for reasons he didn't understand.

He didn't want to believe it, but deep down, he already had a feeling who the sender was.

"Enough! Stop reading!" Maverick suddenly shouted, his voice sharp and loud.

Dean flinched, startled by his boss's outburst. He slowly lowered the phone, looking unsure.

"Boss... this really sounds like something from a girlfriend or someone who likes you-"

"I don't have a girlfriend!" Maverick snapped again, his brows drawn tight with frustration.

Dean blinked in confusion. "Then who sent it, Boss?"

"How would I know?" Maverick replied, throwing his hands up. "Do you think I'd be acting like this if I knew who it was? Trace the number! Now! Whoever is messing with me will regret it."

"O-Okay, Boss!" Dean stammered, startled into full attention. He moved quickly, gathering all the money on the table and packing it tightly into two large attaché cases. Once they were filled, he secured the latches and tucked them away into a secret storage drawer beneath the floor tiles of the office vault.

While Dean worked, Maverick paced in silence, his jaw tight and his mind full of questions. He wasn't used to this-feeling thrown off by something so small. But that message had hit a nerve. He didn't know why, but it did. His chest felt tight and his thoughts wouldn't settle.

A few minutes later, when Dean stepped out of the vault, Maverick tossed him the car keys.

"Start the car. I'm going home."

"Home? Where, Boss? The mansion or-"

"To my condo, obviously!" Maverick growled, already heading for the door.

"Right, sorry, Boss! Got it," Dean said, hurrying to keep up.

Outside, Maverick double-checked that the vault was locked, then followed Dean to the car. The sky was already starting to darken, the first hints of twilight casting shadows on the pavement.

"Boss," Dean said carefully once they were both inside the vehicle, "I sent the number to Sylvie. She said she'll take care of the trace."

"Good. Tell her I want updates. I want to know who's behind this ASAP."

"Yes, Boss."

As the car sped through the quiet roads, Maverick leaned back in his seat, holding his phone tightly. His eyes kept flicking down to the screen, hoping for another message-some kind of clue. But there was nothing. Just the silence of an empty inbox.

It made him more uneasy.

Once they reached the condo building, Dean parked near the entrance and looked at Maverick.

"So... same plan tomorrow, Boss? Should I come pick you up at the usual time?"

"Yes. Be early," Maverick replied, opening the car door.

"Got it!" Dean gave a small salute and grinned. "No wandering off, I know. You've already warned me."

"You better not. If our enemies catch you out alone, you're dead," Maverick said flatly, stepping out of the vehicle.

Dean chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Geez, Boss... Not ready to die yet, okay?"

Maverick didn't respond. He simply walked away and entered the building, heading straight up to his unit.

When he opened the door, the first thing he noticed was the silence. The lights were on, but the place felt empty. Charity was clearly gone.

He walked further inside and stopped when he reached the dining table. His brows lifted slightly in surprise.

The table was clean, and a warm, home-cooked meal was waiting for him. Neatly placed were a bowl of pesto pasta. A dish of beef stew. And a small sticky note stuck to the container lid.

Maverick read it aloud in a quiet voice, "'Heat me up.'"

He stared at the note for a second, confused. Charity didn't usually leave notes like that. Still, he shrugged it off, removed the lid, and walked over to the microwave.

He reheated the soup, then sat down to eat. The smell alone was inviting, but when he took the first bite, his eyes widened just a little.

It was... delicious.

He hadn't expected much-but now, he couldn't stop eating.

One spoonful turned into two... then three... then ten.

By the time he leaned back in his chair, the dish was nearly gone.

He looked around his condo again. The whole place was spotless. The air smelled faintly floral. Even the clutter he usually ignored was gone. Everything looked... better.

He didn't know what was happening, but something felt different.

'Maybe Charity had just decided to go the extra mile today?' He wasn't sure. But he was too full-and too tired-to think any more about it.

He stood up, left his dishes in the sink, and walked to the living room, stretching his arms as he yawned. A few minutes later, he headed to his bedroom to lie down.

But the moment he opened the door, he froze.

His eyes locked on the bed.

There was someone lying there-fast asleep.

And it wasn't Charity.

It was Roseline.