A Night of Desire

"Alright then, Miss Jennings, thank you for your cooperation. If you happen to recall anything else, please give us a call," one of the officers said, turning to Faye Jennings and extending his hand.

Faye Jennings also extended her hand for a perfunctory handshake, a graceful and appropriate smile on her face. "Don’t worry, Officer, I certainly will. Cooperating with a police investigation is every citizen’s duty."

"Very well. Goodbye, Miss Jennings." After speaking, the officer turned, saw Seth Quinn and Clara Grant nearby, and called out a greeting. "President Quinn. Miss Grant."

Faye Jennings turned to see them, paused for a moment, and then also greeted them with a smile. "President Quinn. Clara."

However, when her gaze fell upon their tightly clasped hands, the smile on her face froze for an instant. By the time she looked up again, her calm and composed expression had returned.

In that time, the two officers had walked over to Seth Quinn and Clara Grant. The one who had just shaken Faye Jennings’s hand extended it again toward Seth Quinn, but Seth merely raised an eyebrow at the gesture and said flatly, "Sorry, my right hand’s a little injured. It’s not convenient."

The moment he spoke, the officer’s eyes flicked to Seth’s right hand, which was tightly holding Clara Grant’s. He smiled and withdrew his own hand. "No problem, no problem at all."

Of course, all the officer could say was that it was no problem. Who was Seth Quinn? He was the most powerful man in Novaria. Not only was he the top magnate in the business world, but he was also extremely well-connected in political circles. Though he didn’t operate in politics himself, was there a single political heavyweight in Novaria who didn’t owe him a favor?

Forget refusing a handshake with a lowly police officer; even their own chief would have to just laugh it off in a situation like this.

Faye Jennings’s gaze followed the officer’s to Seth’s right hand. ’He’s holding Clara Grant’s hand so tightly,’ she thought. ’How could it possibly look injured?’

’Did he refuse to shake the officer’s hand just because that officer had shaken mine?’

At this thought, Faye Jennings’s chest tightened. ’Just how much does he despise me? Is he really so disgusted that he won’t even touch a hand that has touched mine?’

’No, I must be overthinking this. He wouldn’t treat me this way. He has no reason to be so disgusted by me!’

’I’m the one who helped track down Sandra. I helped them find the culprit. He should be impressed with me, if anything.’

’So, I must be overthinking it.’

Seth Quinn lifted his chin, prompting the officer. "You came here today because...?"

"Oh, President Quinn, we arrested the culprit, Sandra, a few days ago. However, during her interrogation, she has steadfastly refused to reveal the source of the bullet. That’s why we came to see Miss Jennings today—we were hoping she might recall some clues from Sandra’s past behavior or conversations."

Seth Quinn nodded, his eyes fixed on the officer, clearly waiting for him to continue.

The officer shook his head and continued, "Unfortunately, it didn’t yield any results. But rest assured, President Quinn, we absolutely will not let the person who harmed you off the hook. We’ll continue to interrogate Sandra."

Seth Quinn nodded again in thought. The officer smiled and said, "Well, President Quinn, we’ll be on our way. Goodbye."

He then nodded to Clara Grant before turning to leave.

Seth Quinn led Clara Grant by the hand to the door of her and Holly Summers’s room. As Clara took out her key to unlock it, Faye Jennings stepped forward and stood directly in front of Seth Quinn, her eyes filled with deep emotion. "Pres... President Quinn, you’ve been discharged? Are you fully recovered?"