Chapter 222

Clayton’s expression darkened almost imperceptibly. He furrowed his brow, his gaze steady and unfathomable as he looked at Nicole.

He was the type who rarely let his emotions show, but Nicole’s antics seemed to have finally tested his patience.

“My patience has a limit,” Tyrone said quietly, his voice low and meant only for Clayton’s ears.

Tyrone knew Nicole wasn’t the real heir of the Whites. And of course, so did Clayton.

It was a warning—a reminder to Clayton that if he didn’t find the real Nicole soon, Tyrone wouldn’t wait much longer. He wanted this imposter out of the picture.

“I will,” Clayton replied, nodding apologetically to Tyrone.

He would do everything he could to find the real Miss Nicole as quickly as possible.

Nicole, meanwhile, was still complaining, her tone shrill. “What are you so afraid of? Aren’t you Grandpa’s adopted son? Grandpa asked you to protect me, not to grovel in front of him. Our White family isn’t any less powerful than the Lynch family, is it?” She shot a glare at Clayton, annoyed that he wasn’t using his status to bully others the way she expected.

Clayton’s reply was unfailingly polite. “Miss, let’s talk about this when we’re home.”

Nicole huffed, muttering under her breath as she climbed into the car.

Before getting in himself, Clayton’s eyes lingered on Alicia for a moment.

Tyrone immediately noticed and stepped forward, blocking Clayton’s view of his wife with a scowl.

Stop staring—she’s taken.

A barely-there smile flickered at the corner of Clayton’s lips. He hadn’t expected Tyrone, of all people, to fall for someone. He’d always imagined that he and Tyrone would dedicate their whole lives to their careers, untouched by affairs of the heart. But here Tyrone was, the first to fall.

It was like the two of them had promised to be lifelong bachelors, and one had secretly gotten married.

“Who was that?” Alicia asked, still dazed as she watched Nicole and Clayton drive off. “He’s... really handsome. Is he mixed race or something?”

“Half-British,” Tyrone replied, clearly annoyed at the dreamy look on Alicia’s face.

He frowned, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “Look at me. Do you think he looks better than I do?”

Alicia shook her head so quickly she looked like a bobblehead. “You’re the most handsome...”

“But you’re not the same type,” she added honestly, not wanting to lie.

Clayton and Tyrone were like night and day—completely different kinds of men.

“No complimenting other men,” Tyrone warned, his voice low and threatening.

Feeling his jealousy, Alicia quickly remembered Molly’s golden rule for sugar babies: the sugar daddy always comes first, in both heart and mind.

“I wasn’t complimenting him,” Alicia assured, shaking her head.

Tyrone led her back into the living room, making the introduction himself. “His name’s Clayton. Reginald adopted him from the orphanage.”

Alicia was surprised. With his commanding presence and aristocratic looks, she never would have guessed Clayton was an orphan too.

Knowing this, her impression of Clayton improved even more.

“But he’s not as pure as he looks,” Tyrone added, ruffling her hair. “Stay away from him when you see him.”

“Okay...” Alicia agreed, though she didn’t really understand why.

Seeing how obedient she was, Tyrone’s mood brightened. He refused to let a few annoying pests ruin their day.

...

Seaview City — St. Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital.

The man who’d tried to kill Alicia was named Quentin Walters. According to the investigation at his home, he was a simple, honest farmer with a wife, kids, and a cozy home—no one would have suspected anything unusual. He’d occasionally suffered from mental episodes, but the village had grown used to it.

He’d claimed he was going to the city for treatment. No one could have imagined he’d end up hurting someone.

Quentin’s village was tucked away in the mountains between Seaview City and Mountaincrest City. When news of the incident reached them, his wife brought their children and the village head all the way to the police station and psychiatric hospital, carrying baskets of eggs and homemade goods.

They pleaded on their knees, insisting Quentin was a good man—honest, hardworking, and incapable of such violence.

Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent)

Chapter 221 Transmigration: I Have Storage Space in the Apocalypse Chapter 760 - 756: Encountering a Man with Evil Intentions