Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 186

Calvessa.

The white Alphard SUV glided through the night into the underground parking garage of the Calvessa Hotel.

The garage was eerily quiet, save for the soft purr of the SUV's engine.

Minutes later, the engine fell silent, followed by the smooth whisper of electric doors sliding open.

"Careful."

The quiet warning carried unmistakable concern.

Wrapped in her shawl, Scarlett's face betrayed obvious exhaustion. The young man who exited first helped her from the vehicle, and she yawned the moment her feet touched the ground.

"God, we took such a roundabout route," Chris complained, stretching his stiff limbs with a deep exhale.

The foreign bodyguard climbing out of the driver's seat responded matter-of-factly, "All per Mr. Shane Wright's instructions. That Mr. Howard isn't so easily fooled."

At the mention of Sebastian, Scarlett's drowsy eyes gained a hint of clarity.

"Enough. Why bring him up?" Chris frowned, waving dismissively, refusing to hear anything more about Sebastian.

The group made their way to the nearby elevator.

"Where's Shane?" Chris asked as they entered.

"Mr. Shane Wright is waiting for you in the suite," the bodyguard replied evenly, pressing the up button.

As the elevator ascended, Scarlett leaned against the handrail. Though her expression remained calm and her eyes half-closed with fatigue, they quickly regained their alertness.

She glanced up at the unusually quiet Chris beside her.

His fingers were fidgeting with the seams of his pants—a gesture she recognized as rare for him, but clearly indicating nervousness.

Nervous?

Realizing this, Scarlett straightened slightly, feeling a flutter of anxiety herself.

In her experience, Chris had always been carefree and easygoing. He hadn't shown nervousness even around Shawn, yet here he was, tense about meeting Shane.

Could Shane be that difficult to deal with?

The thought made her even more anxious. Would her presence upset him?

The elevator stopped at the seventeenth floor.

One bodyguard walked in front, the other behind, with Scarlett and Chris sandwiched between them—a formation that felt as much like surveillance as protection.

Scarlett grew increasingly uneasy.

But clearly, Chris was the most afraid. He kept wiping sweat from his palms, forcing a smile whenever Scarlett looked his way.

"Are you really that scared of your second brother?" Scarlett whispered, leaning closer.

Chris shook his head. "Not exactly. It's just... my second brother is intimidating."

Scarlett gave him a complicated look—wasn't that the definition of fear?

Yet Chris refused to admit he was afraid of Shane, insisting only that Shane was intimidating.

Their conversation didn't last long.

The lead bodyguard stopped at a set of double doors, swiped a key card, and the doors automatically opened with a soft beep.

Neither bodyguard entered. Instead, they positioned themselves on either side of the doorway.

"Mr. Wright, Ms. Seymour, please," one gestured for them to enter.

Scarlett hesitated, looking toward Chris. This was Wright family territory, after all, and she didn't want to appear presumptuous by going first.

Chris understood. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them with an expression of someone facing their execution as he walked inside.

Scarlett followed.

The double doors closed silently behind them.

This was no ordinary suite—it was more like a miniature villa transplanted onto this floor.

Scarlett glanced up at the unusually high ceiling, raising an eyebrow. Judging by the height, two floors must have been combined into one.

Just inside the entrance stood an ornamental pool with artificial mountains and a stream—grandiose yet elegant.

Shortly after entering, a maid approached them. "Mr. Wright, Ms. Seymour, please follow me."

She was visibly mixed-race, with delicate, refined features that shone through despite her uniform.

Chris nodded, glanced back at Scarlett, then followed the maid.

Scarlett would have liked to properly observe the architecture and décor—such styles were rare in her country—but their guide moved too quickly for her to take anything in.

After numerous turns through what felt like a maze, they finally stopped before a door about ten minutes later.

The maid knocked three times, then announced, "Mr. Shane Wright, Mr. Chris Wright and Ms. Seymour have arrived."

She followed this with two more knocks.

A voice responded from within.

"Send them in."

The voice, muffled by the door, was barely audible to Scarlett, but the maid, with her ear practically against the wood, heard it clearly.

She pressed down the handle and stepped aside. "Please."

Scarlett caught a glimpse of traditional Old European décor inside, peering forward curiously while Chris was still psyching himself up.

He exhaled slowly, took another deep breath, and finally stepped forward.

Scarlett followed him in.

They entered a reception area. To the left, in an open space, sat a handsome young man behind an ornate European desk.

Slight lines beneath his eyes added maturity without diminishing his refined aura—like time had softened his pale features rather than hardened them.

His fingers held a fountain pen, his knuckles pronounced as his gaze rested on the open leather notebook before him. 

Hearing their entrance, he looked up, his eyes holding a trace of warmth but mostly scrutiny, especially when they landed on Chris.

"Shane," Chris greeted, head lowered and voice tight—a complete departure from his usual carefree demeanor.

Seeing him like this made Scarlett nervous too. When Shane's gaze shifted to her, she lowered her head slightly. "Hello, Mr. Shane Wright."

Shane acknowledged with a sound, closing his notebook and slipping the pen inside before tossing it aside with a sharp snap.

The sudden noise made both visitors jump, though the man wasn't angry.

"Any issues on the road?" His voice carried a cool edge, though his tone was gentle—reminiscent of Shawn, but considerably colder.

"None at all. Your arrangements were perfect," Chris nodded quickly, his words sounding like flattery.

"Spare me the nonsense." This didn't please Shane. He leaned back in his chair, his tone even as he glanced at Scarlett. "You're pregnant. You should rest."

Scarlett hesitated, looking toward Chris.

Chris clearly didn't want her to leave and subtly shook his head.

The gesture didn't escape Shane's notice.

"What? You'd make a pregnant woman stand here with you?" Shane's tone sharpened as he pressed a button on his desk. "Someone come escort Ms. Seymour to her room."