After His Sweetheart Moved In, He Came Home Every Night-Chapter 67: Wyatt Sterling Won’t Die

"Our families still have business together, and I’m not a complete idiot. I can’t just kill you right now, but there’s no way I’m letting this go."

One of Kyle Churchill’s arms was still in a cast. Wyatt Sterling had stomped hard on his other hand earlier today, and it was shaking as he held the bottle. But even with the shaking, he managed to fill all ten shot glasses in front of him with tequila.

Wyatt Sterling offered a kind reminder, "You’re spilling it."

Kyle Churchill didn’t care. He said, "I’ve been thinking for a long time, and I’ve finally come up with a great solution."

He put down the now-empty bottle and pointed to the ten full glasses of strong tequila on the coffee table. "Either you drink all of them and get on your knees to apologize, or I’ll get you hooked on this. When you’re jonesing for a fix, you’ll be on your knees begging me anyway."

Finally, he pointed to a full syringe.

Wyatt Sterling glanced at it, then leaned back. "That can’t be right. You thought for so long and this is the best you could come up with?"

Kyle Churchill was infuriated. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and his entire face darkened. "I told you, our families are still cooperating. I won’t kill you, but you have to choose one of the options I’ve laid out for you."

In stark contrast to Kyle Churchill’s fury, Wyatt Sterling remained calm and composed from beginning to end. "Making things so complicated... this is all child’s play to me."

Kyle Churchill couldn’t hold back any longer. "You knew this was a trap?"

A smirk played on Wyatt Sterling’s thin lips. "I knowingly walked into the tiger’s den. Why do you think I showed up tonight?"

"So what if you knew? I refuse to believe all those rumors about how incredible you are. Once you’re in my hands, you’re nothing but my dog."

"Choose!"

"I said, choose!"

Kyle Churchill had a short fuse.

The calmer Wyatt Sterling was, the more enraged Kyle became.

In a fit of rage, he swept all the glasses off the coffee table. "Damn it! You want to do this the hard way? Hold him down."

With that, Kyle Churchill picked up the nearby syringe.

...

It was almost ten o’clock when Alice York and Mason Cheney arrived at the clubhouse.

Security was tight, relying mainly on facial recognition.

Alice York and Mason Cheney were both unrecognized faces and were stopped and questioned. Alice couldn’t wait any longer. While Mason was talking to the guards, she slipped inside.

Most of the patrons here were Washington’s elite, people you couldn’t afford to offend. Alice didn’t dare just push open doors to search, so she could only listen for any commotion from outside each private room.

She stopped any waiter she saw to ask, but none of them had seen Kyle Churchill.

The more Alice searched, the more anxious she became. Just then, the door to a private room in front of her was violently thrown open. A few people spilled out, and one woman was screaming, "Someone’s dead! Someone’s dead!"

Hearing those words, the color drained from Alice York’s face.

She stumbled over, pushing through the crowd to get into the room. Someone kindly grabbed her arm. "Don’t go in there, someone died."

Alice’s breathing hitched. She asked, word by word, "Is the deceased a man or a woman?"

The person told her, "It’s a man."

Alice pried the person’s hand off her and stubbornly pushed her way inside.

’I have to see it with my own eyes, to be sure. What if it’s just a mix-up? Don’t think of the worst-case scenario.’

’How could a man like Wyatt Sterling die so easily!’

The private room was dimly lit, and the floor was covered in shards of glass, leaving no clear place to step. Alice immediately spotted a man lying on the floor near the sofa. He was wearing a black shirt and was tall and lanky...

’So tall...’

Alice swallowed hard. ’It can’t be, it can’t be...’

Her throat suddenly ached with a pain that was almost suffocating.

She moved closer, slowly knelt down, and turned the man over. After praying countless times, the moment she saw the man’s face, her body gave way and she collapsed to the side.

It wasn’t pain.

It was relief.

The man on the floor wasn’t Wyatt Sterling.

’Thank god, thank god...’

She quickly composed herself. Out of professional instinct, she checked the man’s pulse and pupils, only to find that he wasn’t dead yet, but his heartbeat was nearly inaudible.

She used her bare hands to clear away the glass shards on the floor, straightened the man’s body, and after a quick check, immediately started CPR, shouting for someone outside to call an ambulance as she performed chest compressions.

When the people outside heard he wasn’t dead, they all burst into a clamor.

The ambulance arrived quickly; it turned out there was a hospital nearby. Alice was too exhausted to continue assisting, so she just watched from the side as the paramedics lifted the man onto a stretcher.

The CPR had been successful. The man was already showing signs of waking up. He struggled to open his eyes a crack, looked at Alice in the crowd, and his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, clearly agitated.

To Alice, it just seemed like the man knew she had saved him and wanted to thank her. She didn’t consider for a moment that his agitation might be for another reason.

—He recognized her.

"Miss Alice." Mason Cheney’s voice came from behind her.

Alice was weak from performing CPR. Her palms ached, and her face was still deathly pale. "I haven’t seen Third Uncle. What about you? Did you find him?"

"I have."

As Mason Cheney replied, he recalled the scene he had just witnessed—Alice thinking the man on the floor was the Third Master, the way she had looked on the verge of collapse...

His expression was a bit complicated as he repeated, "I’ve already seen the Third Master."

Alice instantly perked up. "Is he okay?"

Mason Cheney said, "The Third Master is fine. The one who isn’t is Kyle Churchill."

Mason didn’t elaborate on the details. He first led Alice to Wyatt Sterling.

The elevator went straight to the top floor.

The moment Alice stepped out, she saw Wyatt Sterling.

He was standing on the corridor terrace with a cigarette between his lips, his black shirt blending into the night. She slowly approached, hearing the sound of an ambulance siren from below.

"Third Uncle," she called out, her voice hoarse.

Wyatt Sterling didn’t look at her. "What are you doing out so late?"

Alice’s throat felt tight, both hoarse and sore. "Looking for you."

The smoke drifted into Alice’s face, making her choke. Her throat was already bothering her, and the smell made it worse.

Wyatt Sterling took the cigarette from his lips and extinguished it with his thumb. "You’ve seen me now. Go home."

Tears welled in Alice’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke or because she felt so wronged.

She sniffled. "As long as you’re okay, Third Uncle."

"What could possibly happen to me?" he said, his face expressionless. But his mind was replaying what Mason Cheney had just told him over the phone—how Alice had been saving someone downstairs, how she thought the man on the floor was him, and how she had nearly broken down...

"Third Uncle, I’ll head back now, then," she said.

Wyatt Sterling didn’t say anything.

Seeing how cold he was, Alice finally understood. He had gone to the meeting alone because he had his own arrangements. She had been worrying for nothing and had probably just annoyed him.

She silently turned to leave. Before she had taken more than a few steps, Wyatt Sterling’s voice came from behind her. "Turn around."

She thought he had something else to say. The moment she turned, Wyatt Sterling was standing right in front of her.

"Thir—"

She opened her mouth, but before she could finish saying "Third Uncle," the man cupped the back of her head and kissed her.

Alice raised her hands to push him away, but he grabbed her wrists, pinned her against the wall, and kissed her fiercely. As if that wasn’t enough, he released her wrists, held her face in his hands, and deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling together.

The kiss left Alice weak-kneed, nearly unable to stand. The man freed one hand to wrap around her waist, supporting her.

When their lips parted, her lower lip was slightly swollen, her cheeks so hot they felt like they could draw blood. Her eyes were hazy from the kiss...

"Third Uncle..." Her voice was so hoarse she could barely make a sound.

Wyatt Sterling’s breathing was heavy. He stared intently into her eyes. "All of this will be over soon."