The Billionaire's Rental Wife Is A Hot Shot-Chapter 111: Meet Maverick

Avery’s car glided into the basement of Damien’s estate, the soft hum of the engine echoing against the cement walls. Evelyn glanced around, the low lighting and stark walls giving the place an eerie feeling. She couldn’t remember ever being down here—Damien always handled his business elsewhere. She looked at Avery, expecting her friend to feel the same unease, but Avery’s expression was, surprisingly, one of amusement.

"Well, I didn’t think he’d be this cliché," Avery smirked as they stepped out of the car, her heels clicking on the concrete. "A secretive basement office? Really? How very mafia of him."

Evelyn shook her head. "This one is better than the one I visited last time." Luckily, Damien seemed to be kind enough to choose a different location, as going through that road would remind her of their accident again.

Avery shrugged. "True, but this is next level. I was expecting a sleek office in some high-rise building, but not this. Batcave." She paused, looking at the metal door that led deeper into the estate’s basement levels. "Makes me wonder what things he’s been hiding down here."

"Guess we’re about to find out," Evelyn said quietly, moving forward. As the two women approached the door, Evelyn noticed her hand shaking slightly as she reached for the handle. Whether it was from nerves or the cold air seeping through the cracks, she couldn’t tell.

The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit stairway leading further down. Avery arched a brow. "Seriously? This is straight out of a crime novel." Her teasing tone broke the tension a little, and Evelyn found herself rolling her eyes.

"Come on, let’s just get this over with," Evelyn said, leading the way down the stairs.

The cold of the basement seemed to grow as they descended, the air thick with a sense of secrecy. It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the staircase, where another heavy door stood in their path. Before Evelyn could knock, the door swung open, revealing Lucius on the other side. His face was unreadable, as always, though there was a certain gravity in his posture that made Evelyn’s pulse quicken.

"Welcome," Lucius stepped aside, allowing them to enter. "Damien is waiting for you."

Avery gave Lucius a wink as she walked past him. "Nice basement you’ve got here. Very... ominous."

Lucius said nothing, simply nodding in acknowledgment. Evelyn, however, felt a chill run down her spine. She had been in many of Damien’s offices and met with his team countless times, but this felt different. The air was heavy with something she couldn’t quite place—a combination of tension, anticipation, and something more... dangerous.

As they entered the room, Damien was seated at a large desk in the center, the faint glow of multiple monitors casting shadows across his face. The usual composed, devilishly charming man she knew seemed darker, more serious. Lucius joined him, standing to the side as if ready to present something important.

Avery leaned in closer to Evelyn, whispering, "Is it just me, or is the mood in here ten times heavier than usual?"

Evelyn gave a small nod. "It’s not just you."

Damien’s voice cut through the tension, low and deliberate. "Glad you could make it." He didn’t rise from his seat but gestured for them to come closer. "There’s something you need to see."

Evelyn exchanged a look with Avery before they moved toward the desk. Lucius stepped forward and laid out a large blueprint on the table. It was worn, the edges frayed as though it had been pored over countless times. Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the picture in it. It was the crash site—where Reema and Mariam had died.

"This is everything we’ve gathered," Damien said, his tone cold and efficient. "The scene of the accident, the route the truck took, the exact moment of impact. Everything."

Lucius then laid out a series of photos—grayscale and grainy, but the contents were unmistakable. The truck. The bodies. The aftermath.

Evelyn stared at the images, a deep pit forming in her stomach. She had known this would be hard, but seeing it laid out so methodically made it real in a way she wasn’t prepared for. The wreckage, the way the bodies were positioned—it was all too much. Her hand instinctively moved to her mouth, suppressing the nausea that rose inside her.

Avery, for once, was silent beside her, her usual bravado stripped away as she stared at the horror before them.

Damien continued, oblivious to their reactions, or perhaps choosing to ignore them. "We’ve cross-referenced the details with every possible suspect, but the trail keeps leading us back to the same group. The Arabian mafia."

Lucius nodded, stepping forward to place a stack of photos on the table. "These are the men we believe were involved. All of them have a connection to the mafia. But identifying the exact ones responsible... that’s been difficult."

Evelyn reached for the photos, flipping through them slowly. Each face was cold, and cruel, but familiar in that unsettling way—like shadows from a nightmare. Many of the men bore the same scar on their cheek, a crude line that slashed through their skin as if marking them as part of the same group. But it reminded her of the person who had shot Gracia decades ago.

"Does any of them seem familiar to you? One who killed Mrs. Wright?" Damien asked, his eyes fixed on Evelyn.

"This is... impossible," Evelyn whispered. "They all look the same. How am I supposed to know which one—"

Her voice faltered as she reached the last photo. There, in the corner of the image, was a figure, those dark eyes that seemed familiar. A man stood at the edge of the crowd, with a beard covering almost half of his face, but there was no mistaking him.

"Wait," Evelyn said, her voice tight with shock. "I know him."

Damien’s gaze snapped to her, his eyes narrowing. "Who?"

Evelyn hesitated, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her like a ton of bricks. She could barely form the words, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Maverick," she whispered, her heart racing. "Elias showed me his picture once."

The silence that followed Evelyn’s revelation felt like the calm before a storm, heavy with unspoken tension. Avery’s usually sharp eyes were wide, flicking between Evelyn and the photo Damien held.

Lucius was already typing into the computer, pulling up data, his movements precise and methodical, but there was an urgency in the way his fingers struck the keys.

Damien rose slowly from his chair, his entire demeanor shifting as if he’d just locked into a new level of intensity. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the desk as he held the picture of Maverick up to the light, studying it with cold scrutiny.

"Maverick," Damien repeated, more to himself than anyone in the room. "We’ve been circling this for weeks...and it’s been right under our noses."

Evelyn’s pulse pounded in her ears, her mind racing to keep up. She recalled every time Elias had mentioned Maverick in passing—always with a hint of fear and frustration that this Arabian guy was on Sophia’s recent dials constantly. It was when Annabelle had just entered their house and Evelyn didn’t pay much attention thinking of him to be one of her charmers, but it seemed more to it.

"What do we know about him?" Avery asked, her voice surprisingly steady despite the weight of the moment.

Damien glanced at her, his expression dark and unreadable. "Enough to know we’re up against something far worse than we anticipated. Maverick isn’t just tied to the Arabian mafia; he has a hand in nearly every criminal network that runs through Europe and the Middle East. Call him the puppet that owns its owners."

Lucius continued his work on the computer, the monitors now filled with dossiers, charts, and connection maps that painted a sprawling picture of Maverick’s reach. As each new image flickered across the screens, Evelyn’s stomach twisted tighter. This was bigger than she had imagined. What had started as a search for justice for Reema and Mariam was beginning to unravel into something much darker and dangerous.

Damien tapped a few keys on his own terminal, and a detailed report filled the largest screen in the room. "This guy has so many identities that you cannot pick him so easily. And the way he is standing away, I am sure you too would have ignored him as a mere worker."

Evelyn scanned the data, trying to make sense of the tangled mess before her. "So what now?" Her voice wavered slightly. "Where do we even start?"

Damien didn’t look away from the screen. "We start by untangling this web, piece by piece." His voice was low, and controlled, but Evelyn could sense the frustration simmering beneath. "We’ve got leads—his associates, known aliases, locations he frequents. But concretely identifying him, tying him to both the murders." He trailed off, his brow furrowing.

Lucius turned from his station, his face as impassive as ever, but his eyes held a glint of something sharper—determination. "The scar," he said, gesturing to the photograph still in Damien’s hand. "It’s distinctive. Every one of his men bears it, but Maverick’s is different. You wouldn’t even notice it because of his beard."

Evelyn’s gaze drifted over the photos of men with identical scars, each one more menacing than the last. The idea of trying to pick one out from the sea of faces made her head spin. She had seen Maverick’s face once, but it had been in passing, a fleeting moment. Could he be really the same person who had killed Gracia that day?