Chapter 1319


    The office was eerily silent, with no response to be heard.


    Half of the drapes were obscured by a cab, and the bay window was also blocked from view.


    Phelps whipped out his smartphone and dialed Tyler''s number.


    Stillness reigned within the office.


    After hanging up without a response, Phelps gently shut the office door once more.


    As the door clicked shut for the second time, Tyler peeked from behind a corner of the curtain.


    The drapes were thick and luxurious, turning Phelps'' office-cum-sanctuary into a pitch-ck cave, no


    matter how bright the sun shone outside.


    Now, with the curtains parted, Tyler locked eyes with the man standing inside the office.


    Phelps hadn''t left after all; he was silently watching from within the room.


    The sound of the closing door had made Tyler instinctively think Phelps had gone, a testament to


    human habit.


    Their gazes met, and Tyler cracked a drowsy smile, rubbing his eyes.


    "When did you get back?" Tyler yawned, stretching his legs as he hopped down from the cozy window


    seat, looking like he had just woken up from a deep sleep.


    Phelps eyed him for a few seconds before asking, "Did you sleep through the night?"


    "Yeah, the whole Fitch ordeal hit me hard. identally dozed off here and woke up with a killer


    backache," Tyler confessed, yawning again, his eyes watering slightly.


    "Phelps, are you heading out now?" Tyler nced at his phone screen, eyebrows lifting in a mock


    surprise. "Did you call me?"


    "Tyler, how many years have we known each other?" Phelps asked, leaning casually against the door


    frame.


    "Over two decades."


    The atmosphere in the office was serene, with Phelps stationed by the door.


    "All these years, and you still have your little tell when you lie. You fiddle with something," Phelps


    remarked.


    The air in the room could have been sliced with a knife at that moment.


    Tyler''s eyes darted to his hands, and he suddenly remembered he had pocketed his phone right after


    mentioning the two decades. His hands were empty!


    A chill ran down his spine, and he froze.


    Phelps let out a soft chuckle, his voice steady and rxed.


    "Gotcha."


    The atmosphere intensified, suffocating, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.


    Phelps, however, opened the door, still with a hint of mirth in his voice.


    "I was on the phone with the Herringtons, asking them to dig around. I was worried that this mess might


    be the Haskins family trying to stir the pot. Remember Duke, Fitch''s cousin? Almost came to blows with


    Fitch at the Haskins family gathering, swore he''d get back at him. I''m thinking someone in the Haskins


    might be muddying the waters, trying to pin this on Ian."


    He couldn''t help but snicker, "Aren''t you a screenwriter? I think your acting skills could use some work."


    Tyler immediately rxed, yfully punching Phelps in the shoulder, his voice shaking with relief.


    "Dude, you almost gave me a heart attack, you know? Waking up to your voice on the phone, talking


    about the Haskins—I finished the whole damn plot in my head. My brother turns out to be the final


    viin! How could I stay calm?! Damn it! I was only breathing out, Phelps! Howe I never realized


    you had this trick up your sleeve?"


    Phelps'' lips twitched in amusement. "Feeling a bit more rxed now?"


    It dawned on Tyler that Phelps was trying to ease his tension over Fitch''s situation.


    Taut like a rubber band, it would eventually snap.


    Phelps patted Tyler''s shoulderforting.


    "I''ll look into Duke, and the Haskins family has always been a bit turbulent. Others are just as suspect."


    The Haskins family was infamous for their internal strife, and with Fitch and Ian''s close brotherly bond


    being no secret, someone acting now to link Fitch''s death with Ian''s travel abroad could perfectly mask


    the true culprit.


    Phelps had shed his coat and was sanitizing his hands in the adjoining washroom.


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    "Take care of yourself. Your face looks terrible. If you can''t sleep, grab some mtonin from my desk,


    on the right side. It should help you get some rest."


    Tyler approached the desk and found several bottlesbeled with mtonin.


    "Phelps, have you been sleeping poorly?"


    Phelps emerged from the washroom, drying his fingertips with a clean handkerchief.


    "Too many surgeries back-to-back. I haven''t had a decent rest in weeks. Ten days ago, I couldn''t save


    a little girl from a car ident, and she''s been haunting my dreams."


    Sympathy filled Tyler''s eyes as he grabbed a bottle.


    "Thanks, man."


    "Tyler."


    "Yeah?"


    "Sorry about earlier."


    Tyler offered a wry smile and patted Phelps'' back.


    "That little stunt you pulled did perk me up. I''ll head home to rest."


    "Go on then."