?Chapter 737:


    At the sound of Maia’s name, the receptionist finally looked up, studying the three of them with open curiosity.


    “You’re Ms. Watson’s family? What are your names?”


    Richard stepped forward without hesitation and introduced himself. The employee’s brow furrowed just a bit as he picked up the phone and dialed.


    A momentter, he said into the receiver,


    “I have someone at the front desk. He says his name is Richard Morgan and ims to be Ms. Watson’s father. There are two others with him. They’re here to see her.”


    The reply came swiftly, cold enough to cut through the ss and steel around them.


    “He actually has the nerve to show up? Put him on the cklist. Get them out of MCN — now.”


    Orders snapped into the two security guards’ earpieces, prompting them to rally a team and stride purposefully toward Richard’s group. No exnations were offered as the staff moved in to usher Richard, Sandra, and Jarrod from the premises.


    Realizing that his usual tactics were useless now, Richard swallowed his pride and shuffled toward the exit, with Sandra and Jarrod reluctantly following behind. His determination, however, burned undimmed. He whipped out his phone, fingers flying as he dialed Maia.


    Meanwhile, sunlight gleamed off polished hoods outside Elysium Apartments while Maia swung her car door shut. From the depths of her bag, her phone vibrated.


    The screen shed Richard’s name, and Maia’s response was swift — she rejected the call and quickly tapped his contact into her block list.


    “Finally, some peace atst,” she muttered.


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    Her steps had barely carried her to the stairwell before her phone buzzed again.


    Sandra’s name popped up this time, not Richard’s.


    Displeasure tightening her jaw, Maia sent Sandra’s call away and blocked her as well.


    Figuring it best to be thorough, she searched for Jarrod’s number and blocked him with a final tap.


    No more interruptions would find her now.


    After stepping into her apartment, Maia dragged out her suitcase, moving quickly to pack her things.


    Folded shirtsy in neat stacks when another call lit up her phone — this time, an unfamiliar number hovered on the disy.


    Uncertainty gnawed at her. Maybe it was urgent. After a moment’s pause, she pressed answer.


    No sooner had the call connected than Richard’s voice red down the line, brimming with irritation.


    “Maia, you blocked all of us, didn’t you? Why do you have to be so ruthless?”


    Maia’s lips tightened in irritation, surprised that Richard still hadn’t given up. Her thumb hovered over the end button, but Sandra’s voice suddenly piped up through the phone.


    “Richard, enough with the questions. Just ask Maia where she is. If she refuses toe to us, we’ll go find her and say sorry ourselves!”


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