?<strong>Chapter 426:</strong>


    Just as she was about to leave, her phone rang. She picked up, and Daxton’s soft voice came through, saying, “Carrie, can youe to the police station?”


    Outside the police station, Daxton stood wearing a gray tracksuit, his silver-gray metal sses lending him the youthful air of a college student, yet with the poise of a teacher.


    His assistant, driven by curiosity, asked, “Master, you discovered that it was Lise Nash who paid the housekeeper to set up Ms. Campbell. Why not just tell her and let her…”


    Before the assistant could finish, Daxton’s calm look turned sharp, tinged with a threat. “I told you, don’t call me Master. Just call me Mr. Garcia. I’m just a regr guy; calling me Master is inappropriate.”


    His eyes softened once more, as though the intensity from before had been nothing but an illusion.


    “Mr. Garcia, I apologize,” the assistant murmured, breaking into a sweat and choosing not to continue his question.


    This was a side of Daxton he had never seen before—so polished yet gentle, causing him to momentarily rx. That fleeting expression reminded him why Daxton was known as “Death.”


    The assistant couldn’t help but shudder inside.


    How had he been bold enough to advise against Daxton’s decisions? If he were anywhere other than thewful society of Mothor, such talk could have led to severe consequences.


    After a brief silence, Daxton said in a cold tone, “That must not happen again.” His voice came out like ice, cold andcking any trace of warmth.


    G  al  no vel s . holds tales worth reading


    Shortly after, a taxi arrived, and Carrie quickly stepped out.


    As she walked toward Daxton, surprise shed in her eyes. Then, she quickly looked him over with concern. Seeing he appeared fine and unharmed, she rxed slightly and asked, “Daxton, what’s going on?”


    Noticing the worry in Carrie’s gaze, Daxton’s lips curved into a gentle smile, as naturally warm andforting as the first rays of spring sunshine.


    Watching this unfold, Daxton’s assistant felt a ripple through him. In that moment, he grasped the true meaning of hiding behind an angelic face. Strangely, it was even more unnerving than Kristopher’s icy, detached presence.


    “I’m fine,” Daxton assured, moving to stand next to Carrie. “I’m here to introduce you to someone.” As he spoke, he extended a hand toward her face, the gesture leaving her uncertain.


    “Who are you talking about?” Carrie asked, her curiosity piqued as she instinctively leaned away, tilting her head to dodge his approaching hand.


    But Daxton didn’t touch her. Instead, he plucked a loose red thread from her shoulder with an easy, casual motion. He held it up briefly, then flicked it into a nearby trash can without a second thought.


    A wave of embarrassment washed over Carrie. Was her imagination running wild? How could she, a married woman, even entertain the idea of Daxton touching her face—especially outside a police station?


    Flustered, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and muttered, “It must’ve gotten on me in the taxi.”


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