Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 249

"Uh, maybe I'm remembering wrong. After all, this was all way back in the day." Chris backtracked quickly, his voice tinged with panic. "Besides, I wasn't even born then, and even if I was, I'd still be drinking from a bottle."

Scarlett understood why Chris was saying this, but the more she understood, the heavier her heart felt.

She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "I know, but it's still better to check things out. Just for peace of mind."

Naturally, Chris wouldn't refuse such a request, but hearing Scarlett's last words made him sigh involuntarily. He really felt that what he'd said earlier wasn't quite appropriate.

"Sure, sure. For peace of mind." Chris agreed readily, then eagerly changed the subject. "The thing you wanted me to help you with before—it wasn't this, was it?"

"It wasn't, but..." Scarlett was indeed distracted by his topic change, though her furrowed brow didn't relax. "It is also about Clinton."

At these words, Chris grew curious. "So what were you originally planning to investigate about him?"

"His cause of death."

Scarlett's voice dropped slightly, becoming particularly grave.

She looked up toward the sunlight streaming through the window. Despite the warm rays spilling everywhere, she couldn't feel an ounce of warmth. Her fingers unconsciously traced the rim of her cup. "Whether it's the news reports or other people's accounts, they all say he committed suicide. But I think there's something fishy about it."

Chris's heart suddenly sank as he listened. Though the memories were distant, he vaguely remembered his father once lamenting Clinton's death.

[That kid... how did he get mixed up with those people?]

His young self hadn't understood what those words meant, but his father's lament and that glass of liquor downed in one gulp had left a deep impression on his heart.

"This..."

Chris understood this wouldn't be an easy matter. After all, even his father back then could only transform this incident into a sigh dissolved in hard liquor.

His hesitation didn't escape Scarlett's ears.

Scarlett couldn't help but waver. She roughly understood what investigating this matter would entail, so seeing his hesitation, she began to consider giving up.

"I understand."

Just as Scarlett was about to decline, Chris suddenly spoke up. His tone was resolute, clearly having made up his mind.

"Actually, never mind. I've thought about it again—this is very dangerous." Scarlett was now reluctant to let her friend take such risks. "I have some savings. I could hire a few private investigators to..."

But before she could finish, Chris interrupted her. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

His tone was so firm that Scarlett found herself at a loss for words. Her internal refusal crumbled under this determination.

"Really?"

But she still hesitated, her mouth slightly open, the words seeming to roll out with a long, drawn-out tone.

Chris chuckled cheerfully, his voice carrying reassurance. "Just trust me. This one thing—I guarantee I'll handle it properly for you."

He loved making such promises, and indeed had never broken his word.

But this made Scarlett worry even more. "This matter is no small thing. Don't try to be a hero. If anything seems off, you should..."

Her warning was cut short as Chris interrupted and accurately predicted her next words.

"Get out of there immediately, right?"

Chris's tone lifted with the smugness of having guessed correctly. A smile played at his lips, his casual attitude suggesting he wasn't treating this as a dangerous situation at all.

Hearing this, Scarlett felt even more anxious and frustrated.

"I'm being serious."

"Don't worry, I'm serious too. I value my life plenty—otherwise I wouldn't have walked off the track uninjured for so many years."

After finally managing to comfort her, Chris found an opportunity to hang up the phone.

The sports car that had been idling by the roadside for quite some time finally roared to life, merging into the adjacent traffic flow. The moment the car joined the stream, the engine's growl was swallowed by the city's cacophony.

Chris's fingertips rested on the steering wheel, his knuckles slightly pale from gripping too tightly—Scarlett's voice, tight with seriousness, constantly tugged at his heartstrings.

His father's helplessness and sighs from years past had already foreshadowed how thorny this matter would be. How could Chris not understand what accepting this investigation meant?

Yet he had still taken it on.

During the drive home, Chris's heart pounded. He ended up sitting in the garage for nearly half an hour before finally opening the car door and getting out.

The elevator reached the first floor.

Chris, who had barely stepped halfway out, came face-to-face with Shawn entering through the main entrance.

"Home this early today?" Shawn looked at Chris with slight surprise, his steps not slowing as he walked to the front door first and pressed his fingerprint to unlock it. He glanced back at his younger brother following behind. "Training finished?"

Chris smiled, walking alongside him. "No, there's a team dinner today."

Hearing this, Shawn nodded slightly, pulling open the unlocked door and gesturing for Chris to enter first.

Chris didn't stand on ceremony, slipping through the open doorway first. The staff who hurried over upon hearing the commotion quickly greeted them: "Mr. Shawn Wright, Mr. Chris Wright."

The brothers merely nodded slightly at these greetings, handing their coats to the staff without even making eye contact, focusing only on their own conversation.

"Shawn, how was your day?"

"Pretty good. I heard your race got canceled?"

"That was ages ago. Dennis took my spot—that small event was perfect for him to get some practice."

"Good that you're handling it well. I won't interfere with race scheduling, but you need to watch your reputation."

Concern and warning appeared simultaneously, creating an overwhelming sense of pressure.

Chris paused mid-sip of his water, not responding to that comment. Instead, he looked toward the butler standing nearby. "Where's my father?"

"Mr. Dominic Wright went fishing. I'm afraid he won't be back for quite some time," the butler replied.

This meant he probably wouldn't see the old man today. Chris clicked his tongue in frustration—those old matters would be best discussed with his father.

Shawn sat on the sofa, holding a teacup, listening to Chris's frustrated sound. He looked up with probing eyes but didn't ask until Chris settled on the opposite sofa.

"Why do you suddenly need to see Father?"

His questioning tone was gentle, without pressure, carrying only confusion.

Chris waved his hand dismissively, his tone casual. "There's something I want to ask him about."

Hearing this, Shawn raised an eyebrow slightly, understanding his brother had something to hide. He didn't press further, only leaving a reminder: "If you run into any trouble, you can ask me for help."

A maid brought over a hot ginger honey lemon drink to ward off the cold. Chris quickly took the cup, nodding casually in response.

After drinking half the cup, Chris remembered to ask Shawn: "From what you said earlier, do you know what I want to ask about?"

"No idea."

Shawn didn't like ginger drinks, so in front of him sat a bowl of steaming creamy chicken soup.

"Then why did you say that?" Chris was somewhat skeptical, his expression carrying a hint of doubt.

As he spoke, he pushed away his half-finished ginger honey lemon drink, signaling the maid to replace it with a bowl of the same creamy chicken soup Shawn was having.