Chapter 398 - 398: Angelica... Or Should I Call You Maya? [FIXED!][06/04!]

Kyle sat in the back of a black cab, the London streets sliding past the window like frames of a film he couldn't quite focus on. His phone screen glowed with the results of an hour's work—total recall making short work of public records, alumni directories, and a dozen smaller databases he had learned to navigate years ago.

The school.

It was one of the better institutions in London. Not ancient like Oxford or Cambridge, but respected. Private and very expensive. Specializing in fine arts—painting, sculpture, digital media. The kind of place where wealthy families sent daughters who had talent but no need for a traditional career.

"Perfect for hiding someone." Kyle thought to himself even though this family had no reason to do, but Kyle didn't eliminate the possibility that whoever adopted her was one of Nakamura's'.

Kyle had found it by cross-referencing Nakamura's photo with student publications. A blurry background image from a gallery opening six months ago. A girl who looked like Angelica standing near a sculpture. No name attached. Just a caption: "Students and faculty at the spring exhibition."

"That's her. I'd bet on it," Kyle was certain as she bore exact features to the picture given to him.

But he couldn't walk in and ask for Angelica. That name was probably dead and buried. Replaced with something safer and definitely different otherwise Marcello would have heard a whisper.

"I need the face, not the name."

He had the photo printed—a small, wallet-sized copy. Enough to show without drawing too much attention.

The cab pulled up to a wrought-iron gate. Beyond it, a courtyard. Beyond that, a building that looked like a country manor dressed in ivy. Students milled about—paint-stained jeans, oversized sweaters, messenger bags covered in pins. The air smelled of rain and turpentine.

Kyle paid the driver and stepped out.

He adjusted his jacket. Not because it needed adjusting—because he knew how he looked even with rumpled clothes, the attention would always be on his face. His face was the kind that made people do a double take. He was a handsome devil, someone had called him once. He hadn't forgotten but it was easy for him to forget how good he looked with how busy life was.

He walked through the gate and eyes followed him. A girl with purple hair stopped mid-sentence. A boy with a sketchbook lowered his pencil and someone else whispered something Kyle couldn't hear—but he felt it.

He ignored them and kept walking.

The main building's interior was all polished wood and high ceilings. A reception desk sat near the entrance, staffed by a woman in her fifties who looked like she had seen everything.

"Good morning," Kyle said. "I need to speak with the head of the school."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

"Then I'm afraid—" She was cut short because Kyle had already anticipated something like this would play out.

Kyle placed a folded piece of paper on the desk. Not a photo. A bank reference. Numbers that made the woman's eyes widen slightly.

"I'll wait," Kyle said, this was where money came into play with a world of too many words.

She picked up the phone and conversed with someone on the other end for a bit.

Ten minutes later, Kyle sat across from Dr. Alistair Vance.

The man was in his sixties, grey-haired, wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. His office smelled of books and tea, steaming right in front of him. Diplomas lined the walls. So did photographs—students, faculty, donors.

"You're not a parent," Vance said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Kyle responded right away.

"Not a student," Vance said once again.

"No," Kyle responded right away, he showed no hesitation as he knew men in this position could smell it.

"Then what is your interest in our institution?" Vance was receptive, the receptionist must have put in a good word or told him that Kyle was no small fish.

Kyle leaned back. "I'm looking for someone."

Vance's expression didn't change. "We don't give out student information to strangers."

"I'm not asking for information. I'm asking for a conversation."

"A conversation about what?"

Kyle reached into his pocket and slid the photo across the desk. Face down.

"This woman," Kyle said. "I believe she's a student here. I need to speak with her."

Vance didn't touch the photo. "I can't confirm or deny whether she attends this school."

"I understand," Kyle understood he just needed to be persuaded, or convinced as to why he should help him out.

"Then you understand why I'm going to ask you to leave," Vance said

Kyle didn't move as he knew information could be gotten from this man in front of him.

"I'm willing to pay," he said.

Vance's eyes narrowed. "We're not that kind of institution."

"I'm not trying to bribe you. I'm offering a donation. To the school, to its programs, to whatever scholarship fund you have for students who can't afford tuition." Kyle paused. "A substantial donation."

"Substantial." Vance repeated after him.

"Enough to fund a new wing. Or an entire scholarship class. Your choice."

Vance picked up his teacup. His hand was steady. "And in exchange?"

"I want a meeting with her. No pressure, just a conversation. She can walk away at any time."

"And if she refuses?" Vance questioned but Kyle knew right away that he couldn't make his donation reliant on his compliance.

"Then I leave but the donation stays," Kyle knew he had to leave the opportunity for him to rethink his decision, even if it wasn't right away, being in his good graces took priority.

Vance set the cup down. He studied Kyle for a long moment because there was no way a student could be this important to begin with. And Kyle's good looks helped shape the perception of Vance, the familiar good-looking people cannot be "bad" people.

"You're very young to have that kind of money," Vance commented, he didn't recognize Kyle and knew a few influential people.

"I'm very good at what I do," Kyle said with confidence of someone ten times his age.

"What do you do?" Vance had taken the bait, showing interest in the person he was talking to, his tone had changed as well.

Kyle smiled. "I solve problems."

Vance was quiet. The clock on the wall ticked and Kyle could hear it loud and clear like it was being blasted on full speaker.

"Let me see the photo," Vance finally said, giving in. Kyle's approach had worked, he wasn't forceful.

Kyle flipped it over at last.

Vance looked at it. His face gave nothing away but his eyes—just for a second—flickered with recognition.

"He knows her." Kyle thought to himself.

"I can't give you access," Vance said slowly. "Not directly. What I can do is… leave a message. In her mailbox. Asking her to meet someone in the library but more so, in a safe environment as my students' safety comes above all else."

Kyle nodded. "That works."

Vance sighed. He pulled out a notepad and wrote something down—a name, perhaps, or a student ID number. Kyle couldn't see.

"Fifty thousand pounds," Vance said. "Up front. For the scholarship fund. If she meets with you, we discuss the rest."

"Done."

Kyle pulled out his phone. A few taps. A confirmation.

Vance's desk phone buzzed a minute later. He answered, listened, and hung up.

This was a conversation with someone at the other hand, it was definitely not his bank, and this individual had just confirmed the transfer had come through.

"The funds have been received," Vance informed him, Kyle noticed he didn't give him his personal account number which was suspicious but he didn't care what he did with the money at the end of the day.

But if it was going to be siphoned, the less people involved, the better which meant it could be the school's donation account he had sent it to directly as the transfer receipt only showed an acronym.

Vance wrote something else on the notepad, tore off the sheet, and folded it. "I'll have this placed in her mailbox. If she comes to the library, that's her choice. We're not responsible for what happens."

"Understood," Kyle was more surprised by how smoothly this was going but it showed that money was truly the one undefeated thing in this world.

Vance slid the folded paper across the desk. Kyle didn't open it.

"One more thing," Vance said. "If you're lying—if you hurt her, or anyone else on this campus—I will make sure every police force in London knows your face."

Kyle stood. "You won't have to,"

He walked to the door, then paused.

"Dr. Vance?" Kyle called out.

"Yes?" Vance responded.

"Thank you. For being reasonable," Kyle showed his gratitude because he could have easily told him no.

Vance picked up his teacup. "I'm not being reasonable. I'm being practical, there's a difference. i know if I don't help you, with that money, you will just find her. At least this way, I get to keep an eye on her,"

Kyle left with a satisfied smile, he didn't care what reason he had to do what he did as long as it was done.

He stood outside the main building, the folded paper in his hand. He opened it.

It contained a name, a time and a location.

[[Maya. Library. 4 PM.]]

"I see, so she goes by Maya, not Angelica."

Kyle tucked the paper into his pocket and walked toward the gate.

He had taken a big step today

The rain started again—soft, persistent. He didn't hurry.

"If she shows up, I'll have answers. If she doesn't, I'll find another way but I have confirmed the information I got from Nakamura is correct," Kyle muttered under his breath, clearly relieved.

He hailed a cab and gave the driver the hotel's address, he was done for the day and planned to spend the rest of it with the people in his life.

He had not only secured the deal with the agency he came here to find but he had managed to track down the school Maya attended.

Kyle was very efficient and this also showed he would be done a lot sooner than he had anticipated as well which was a good thing.

He didn't plan to stay in England any longer than he had to.