Long Time No See

Her heart clenched tightly, a wave of fear and panic rushing through her.

Curtis quickly extended his arm, pulling her waist close to him, wrapping her in a firm embrace. His heart raced, and Phoebe clung to him like a frightened rabbit, seeking warmth and comfort.

"Phoebe, don't be scared. I'm here, everything's going to be fine," he whispered, gently stroking her soft hair in a soothing gesture.

The car came to an abrupt stop after a series of jolts, skidding to a halt at a sharp corner. Only when Phoebe felt the car come to a safe stop did she slowly open her tightly shut eyes. She was still shaken, her gaze lifting toward the man holding her. A hoarse whisper escaped her lips, "Are we safe?"

"Yes, we're fine now," Curtis nodded, his gaze soft and reassuring. In this moment, he felt needed by her, a feeling he savored.

"What just happened? Did we crash?" Merle asked, steadying himself, his voice shaky.

Curtis was about to ask the driver what had happened when he noticed that their car was surrounded by a group of people. Those people were armed, their heavy machine guns pointed directly at them.

"Sir, it looks like we're in trouble," Merle remarked, his voice calm but serious.

Phoebe also noticed the unusual scene outside and gasped in shock, her eyes wide with fear. The sight of the guns made her heart race uncontrollably, and she didn't dare breathe. The terror of that night two years ago came rushing back to her.

"Phoebe, don't worry. I'm here," Curtis said, feeling her trembling in his arms. He gently pressed her head against his chest, shielding her protectively. His gaze hardened as he stared out at the group of men outside. The usual warmth in his eyes was replaced by a cold, sharp intensity. In French, he addressed the driver, "Who are these people?"

The driver responded in French, his voice tense. "They seem like a gangster..."

"What should we do now, sir?" Merle asked, his nerves clearly on edge as he looked outside.

Just then, a man in a black suit approached the car. He bowed respectfully toward the passengers and said, "Sir, our boss would like to invite you to see him."

Merle, terrified, stared at the man. "What do you want with us?"

"Nothing serious, just inviting Mr. Curtis for a cup of coffee," the man replied with an eerie calm.

"Your boss sure has an interesting way of inviting guests," Curtis said, narrowing his piercing blue eyes, his gaze now icy.

"Please understand. Kindly step out of the car."

"If you want me to get out, there needs to be a proper reason," Curtis replied, his tone firm.

"I'm afraid I can't give you an answer. You'll know once you come with me."

Curtis glared at the man, seething with anger. Though the situation was dangerous, it seemed clear that the threat was aimed at him specifically. The others didn't appear to be in immediate danger.

"Merle, take Phoebe back home," Curtis instructed.

***

Curtis followed the man into a study. The room had a unique design, with black as the dominant color, perfectly showcasing a sense of understated luxury.

As an artist with a prestigious background, Curtis recognized the craftsmanship of every piece in the room. The intricate carvings on the walls alone indicated that this man was not only wealthy but also had a refined taste for art.

It was hard to believe that someone with such sophistication could also be a violent man.

"Mr. Curtis, long time no see!" A man seated in the shadows suddenly turned to face him. His presence exuded an imperial aura, as if he were evaluating Curtis. His voice, cold and arrogant, filled the room.

Curtis was momentarily stunned. This man felt disturbingly familiar, as though he had met him before. The same coldness, the same dominance, the same face.

"It's you, Alexander," Curtis said, suspicion growing in his mind. Who exactly was this man?

A wild, mocking laugh echoed through the room, sending a chill down Curtis's spine.

"I don't think you invited me here to catch up with me! Let's get to the point," Curtis said calmly, his demeanor unshaken by the man's overbearing presence. In fact, Curtis seemed even colder now.

"Straightforward as always. Very well, I'll get to it. I'm willing to pay a billion dollars for the painting Tears," Alexander said with a smirk, his thin lips maintaining their usual air of detached charm, his expression relaxed.

"You... Who are you really? How do you even know about that painting?" Curtis demanded, his eyes wary as he looked at the man before him.

Something about Alexander made Curtis feel deeply uncomfortable, as if in his presence, all of Curtis's secrets were laid bare.

"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I want that painting."

"A billion, ten billion, it makes no difference. I'm not selling it," Curtis growled, his usual calm demeanor vanishing as he shouted angrily at Alexander, like a furious lion.

"I've never failed to get something I set my sights on..." Alexander's eyes narrowed, a sinister smile playing on his lips. Today, he was merely issuing a warning. He was determined to have that painting.

"You're overestimating yourself. If you had what it takes to get it, you wouldn't have had to ask me here!" Curtis snapped.

At this, Alexander didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed. His laughter was eerie, like the cold, haunting stillness of a dark night, sending chills down Curtis's spine.

"Fine. You'd better watch yourself!"

"If that's all, I'll be leaving now," Curtis said, his tone cutting.

"Of course, you're free to go at any time," Alexander replied, clapping his slender fingers twice. Two guards immediately entered the room, bowing respectfully. "Sir?"

"Escort him out," Alexander said.