Chapter 1323


    The door to the private booth was flung open, and they tried to saunter in, only to catch Omar in the


    middle of a fashion disaster involving someone''s dress.


    Cornelia had her back to them, so they didn''t get a good look at her face, mistaking her for one of the


    cocktail waitresses from the BlueSky Bar.


    "Mr. Casson, living it up, I see."


    "What kind of girl has got you all fired up, Mr. Casson?"


    The group hooted and hollered,pletely oblivious to the storm brewing on Omar''s face.


    In a sh, he whipped off his suit jacket and draped it over Cornelia, bellowing at the intruders, "Get


    out! Just get the hell out of here!"


    Scared out of their wits, they scattered like roaches, skedaddling out of there.


    Omar mmed the door shut, his chest heaving with rage.


    "I''ve got people looking into this, Cornelia. We''ll have answers by tonight. Let me take you home."


    She stood silently, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.


    Quickly looking up, she forced them back and turned to face him with a smile.


    "Mr. Casson, quite the knight in shining armor. Money and power sure make a difference. How could I


    ever have mistaken you for a mere delivery guy? I must''ve been blind."


    And foolish, she thought, to be duped by a guy pretending to be a delivery boy and to give herself away


    so naively.


    Omar stood at the door, feeling as if a thousand knives had just pierced his heart.


    He opened the door to let some fresh air in, to keep the booth from feeling suffocating.


    "I''ll take you home."


    Cornelia followed him quietly, hershes cast down.


    When they reached the outside of BlueSky Bar, she headed to her own car.


    "Mr. Casson, it''s not necessary. I have to get back to the set tonight."


    Omar felt a pang of emptiness and quickly said, "Don''t you want to know the truth about what


    happened to Fitch? I''ve got friends on it too. With the Olsons and the Cassons looking into it, we''ll have


    answers by dawn."


    Cornelia considered it and then stepped out of her car.


    "Then I''ll go with you to the Casson residence. I''ll wait for the results there."


    Omar stiffened, his grip tightening on the car door.


    He''d been avoiding the Casson family home recently, choosing instead to stay in the room Cornelia


    had shared with her parents.


    But he couldn''t confess that. Her parents were a hurdle she couldn''t ovee, her greatest pain.


    "Alright."


    He opened the passenger door for her.


    Cornelia climbed in.


    Omar took the driver''s seat and steered the car towards the Casson family mansion.


    The Casson mansion was quiet, save for the staff. Almost everyone had been sent away by Omar.


    This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Sitting in the grand living room, Cornelia couldn''t shake off the eerie coldness that seemed to seep into


    her bones.


    She remained on the couch, watching Omar enter the kitchen, soon followed by the sound of running


    water.


    Ten minutester, he emerged with unevenly chopped fruit, thoughtfully cing toothpicks beside her


    te.


    Cornelia nced at it with little appetite but politely said, "Thank you."


    She then took out her phone to scroll through the news, not saying much else.


    Omar sat in silence too, both waiting for word from outside.


    Cornelia wished time would race by.


    Omar hoped it could stand still forever.


    Fitch was well-trained and had managed to bail out of the car just before the collision. However, the


    subsequent impact from another car sent him careening into a nearbyke, where he lost


    consciousness.


    He awoke briefly, trying to swim ashore, but his strength failed, and he cked out again.


    Fortunately, during his bouts of unconsciousness, he floated face-up, keeping him alive.


    After an indeterminate time adrift, a crew aboard a passing ship spotted him.


    Someone rushed to inform the man in the ck shirt onboard.


    "Mr. Olson, there''s a body floating in the river."


    The man, his unnaturally pale fingers hovering over a chessboard, looked up. His sallowplexion


    betrayed a life devoid of sunlight, his frame gaunt and frail.


    Hearing the report, he nced up.


    "So many dead. I can''t keep track."


    "He seems alive, sir."


    "Then make sure he isn''t. A few more shots, perhaps?"


    "Um, his face looks familiar. I think it''s Fitch, the guy who called you a while back."