On the other end of the phone, Moretti began to explain: "This morning, right around the time the transaction was taking place, when Godfather was on his deathbed, several of our senior operatives were kidnapped. One of our major casinos was attacked by a group of armed men…"
The timing of it all seemed far too coincidental to be just that.
Michael narrowed his eyes slightly. "And then?"
"Luckily, the Godfather was there to take charge. We fought back, and those attackers didn't come out ahead. However, after they retreated, the whole conflict ended inexplicably. Our people were returned…" Moretti's voice held a hint of disbelief. "But one thing is certain now—the attackers were from the Valenti Family!"
Michael raised an eyebrow. "So, the ones who killed William Cahill were also from the Valenti Family?"
Moretti quickly denied it. "No, while it's suspicious, we managed to capture those guys who did the deed. After investigating, we found no connection to the Valenti family."
Michael sensed something strange in the situation but didn't press the issue further. Having the Cahill Family working for him was a must. But at this point, he didn't know enough about the underground world to make a judgment about the details.
"That being said, Mr. Grim Reaper, I really must thank you!" Moretti's voice grew much more serious, filled with a hint of lingering fear. "If it weren't for you saving the Godfather, I can't even imagine what would have happened..."
He repeated, "If you need anything, anything at all that Cahill Family can help with, we will. This is also the Godfather's wish."
Michael smiled lightly. "I'm just doing business. But there is something I do need your help with."
Moretti didn't hesitate for a moment. "Please, go ahead."
"Help me find the best hacker in all of North America." Michael said, looking up at the vast, starry night sky.
The moment the words left his mouth, Moretti immediately responded, "No problem, Mr. Grim Reaper!"
The notorious gang leader, known for his ruthless ways, now sounded polite and eager, as if it were an honor to do business for Michael. "To be honest, there is a master hacker who has been working with the Cahill Family for quite some time. Her skills will definitely meet your needs."
Upon hearing Moretti's certainty, Michael nodded, feeling more reassured and a little more intrigued.
A hacker working with the underworld? He had a feeling this person might be quite interesting.
"Well then, Mr. Grim Reaper, I'll arrange the meeting." Moretti continued. "But I must warn you, this hacker... she has a bit of a temper."
Michael didn't find this concerning at all. He smiled faintly. "That's fine."
After all, exceptional geniuses often have their quirks, don't they?
What he needed were her skills and her loyalty.
Michael hung up the phone and glanced out the car window. The night had fully descended, and he exhaled deeply. It was time to head home and get some rest.
He started the car and drove toward his house.
...
Michael's luxurious car seemed out of place in the run-down neighborhood. But thankfully, the dim night and lack of streetlights meant it wasn't drawing too much attention.
"I just want to get home quickly, take a nice hot shower, and get a good night's sleep." Michael muttered to himself, only to suddenly remember that his shabby house didn't have hot water.
"Looks like, besides getting a new car, I'll need a new place too..." he sighed in frustration. He was lost in thought when he pulled up to his house, but what he saw left him stunned.
A group of people, along with a moving truck, was parked outside his door.
A young girl in a white dress was directing the movers, instructing them to load Michael's furniture onto the truck.
"What the hell? Did I get robbed?" He immediately stopped the car, jumped out, and grabbed a brick from the roadside. "Hey! Stop!"
The young girl turned around, and when she saw Michael, she wasn't surprised at all. "Michael, you're back?"
"Anya?" Michael froze for a moment, quickly tossing the brick onto the lawn, staring in confusion at the busy workers. "What is going on here? What have you done to my house?"
At this moment, Anya's mood seemed to shift. She looked at Michael, and her nose suddenly tinged with emotion. "Stop pretending. When were you going to tell me, Michael? You've been diagnosed with a terminal illness, haven't you?"
Michael's expression shifted slightly. "Huh, how… how did you know?"
Anya turned her head away. "If I hadn't heard it from Chad, I'd still be in the dark. Aren't we friends? Something like this, and you didn't tell me? Chad said you only have one month to live."
Michael froze when he heard this. Chad had spilled the beans. He couldn't fathom what kind of rumors Chad had been spreading around the office. But at this moment, he couldn't exactly deny it. There were too many complicated things about his situation that he couldn't explain to Anya. "Well… Anya, actually…"
If she kept pressing him, he had no idea how to explain.
But Anya didn't press him further. Instead, she reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Michael, I know all these recent events must be really hard on you. I'm worried you might do something drastic. So from now on, come live with me. At least let me take care of you. You shouldn't be living in a place like this." She looked around the surroundings, disgusted by the squalid conditions that seemed to belong to a slum.
Michael felt awkward. He didn't know how to respond. His house was nearly emptied out, and he let out a resigned sigh. "Anya, I… don't know how to explain the moving situation. But okay, I'll agree to it."
Anya's face lit up, and she smiled sweetly. "That's more like it. I'm your friend. You've always looked out for me. So if you're going through something, you have to let me help you carry the burden."
Michael nodded silently, his gaze drifting elsewhere as he thought to himself. There was no way Anya could know about the Time Merchant situation. He had to keep her calm and prevent her from noticing anything strange.
At that moment, Anya casually glanced behind Michael and noticed the car parked there.
A top-tier luxury car worth $35 million. In the dim light of the night, it sparkled like a diamond. Anya didn't know much about cars, but the moment she saw it, her eyes widened slightly.
Michael noticed her gaze and his face immediately changed. 'Damn it, I forgot the car was still here.'
Anya pointed at the car but didn't ask any questions. "Is this... the car you rented?"
Michael hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Ah… yeah, it's pretty cool, right?"
"The doctor said that keeping a good mood helps with recovery... So, this car is a symbol of staying positive about life. Want to come sit in it?" He stammered, awkwardly trying to explain, forcing a smile as he extended an invitation.
Anya seemed a bit hesitant.
At that moment, a worker in a red uniform walked up to them. "Hey, ma'am, all the furniture's been moved, and it's on its way to Phoenix Tree Avenue, number 428, right?"
Anya immediately nodded. "Yes, that's right."
The worker gave her an "OK" gesture and signaled to his colleagues to load up the truck. Then, the moving truck slowly pulled away, disappearing as Michael and Anya watched it drive off.
Anya had arrived here by taxi.
Michael extended his invitation again. "Come on, get in. I'll give you a ride home."
He opened the passenger side door as he spoke.
Anya thought for a moment before nodding. She stepped inside and sat in the front seat. Her face flushed with a hint of shyness. "Alright, but I've never ridden in such a nice car before."
...
Half an hour later.
On the highway shrouded in darkness, the rush of speed and the wind whipping against them ignited an uncontrollable thrill. Anya sat in the passenger seat, her silver bell-like laughter echoing in the night as the car sped along, radiating an infectious energy. Her long hair flying out the window like scattered stars, a stark contrast to her earlier bashfulness.
"This is speed! This is what living life to the fullest feels like!" Michael cheered loudly, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he immersed himself in the thrill of the moment.
"I never expected the joy of a drive to feel like this. Remember how frugal you used to be?" Anya laughed, half-joking. "I almost thought you had a terminal illness, and look at you now—so carefree!"
As he glanced at the cheerful Anya in the passenger seat, Michael's expression shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing.
He looked up at the night sky and exhaled deeply. "In the past, we could only survive in the cracks of life. But now, we can truly gaze at the stars!"
Anya giggled and turned to him. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Poet?"