Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 71: Private Room Tension

The sky had already dimmed into a soft indigo when Kendrick quietly stepped out of the tinted van parked a few blocks away from the restaurant.

He didn’t want to draw any attention, especially not in this part of the city. The restaurant was a known spot for high-profile clientele, and cameras were subtly tucked in corners.

For someone who wanted to stay unnoticed, this place was the worst. But Reynold had chosen it.

Kendrick adjusted his baseball cap low over his brow and slipped on the rounded glasses he only wore when he wanted to look unrecognizable. A gray hoodie cloaked his upper body, and dark jeans made him blend in like any regular city dweller on a cool night.

The entrance was tucked behind a tall, black fence, the gold plaque reading "Maison Anz" barely visible unless someone knew where to look.

He kept his head down, gave a curt nod to the man at the reception counter who seemed to already expect him, and was silently guided past the elegant open dining space filled with whispers and clinking glasses. No one spared him more than a glance. Just as he wanted.

They reached a narrow hallway at the back. At the far end was a wooden door with intricate carvings. That must be it.

He raised his fist and knocked—two short raps. No more. No less. Then he waited.

From inside, he heard the scrape of a chair shifting slightly.

"Come in," a familiar voice called out.

He opened the door.

The room was dim, lit with a single warm-toned chandelier above a circular table. There were only two seats. Reynold was already in one, back straight, one arm resting on the table as if he’d been waiting for a while.

As soon as Kendrick stepped in and closed the door behind him, Reynold’s eyes lifted. And they were sharp. Cold. Hostile.

Kendrick stilled for a moment.

Why did it feel like he was walking into an interrogation room?

He had faced armed men, infiltrated guarded buildings, and even pulled off last-minute escapes. But right now, with just one look from this man, his heart kicked in his chest like it wanted to get out.

Why am I this nervous? he thought. It’s just Zephany’s older brother. That’s all.

Yet his throat tightened, and his palms began to sweat.

He swallowed hard, forcing a calm expression across his face. His features stayed composed, gentle even. The kind, soft-spoken mask of the man who loved cooking breakfast for his mom and arguing with his little sister about who left the dishes unwashed.

He stepped forward.

Reynold didn’t say anything.

Kendrick’s eyes dropped briefly to the table. Plates of food were neatly laid out—steamed vegetables, grilled meat, and soup still steaming. Reynold hadn’t touched any of it.

He looked up again, trying to appear calm, but the tension in the air felt too solid, like walking through water.

Reynold gestured slightly with his fingers. freёwebnoѵel.com

"Sit," he said.

No emotion. No smile. Just that.

Kendrick’s legs moved before his thoughts could catch up. He sat opposite Reynold, feeling strangely like a schoolboy being summoned to the principal’s office. His back stayed straight, but his hands remained hidden under the table, curled tightly into his jeans. He didn’t like the way his body reacted. He wasn’t used to this.

Why am I being so obedient? he wondered. It’s just Zephany’s brother. Why do I feel like I owe him something?

Reynold stared at him for a long moment, then spoke, his voice low but clear.

"What do you want from my sister?"

The question hit hard, sharper than expected.

Kendrick blinked, slightly thrown off by the directness. No lead-up. No formalities. Just straight to the point.

He exhaled, eyes steady. "Nothing," he replied. "I just like her."

A lie.

He felt it slide off his tongue like something foreign. But it was easier than explaining anything right now.

Reynold didn’t blink.

His gaze darkened. Kendrick could feel the weight of it like a heavy coat being thrown over him.

"You just like her?" Reynold repeated, his tone flat, his fingers tapping against the wood once. "You think that’s enough to come into her life? To stand beside her?"

Kendrick opened his mouth to respond, but Reynold continued before he could say a word.

"She’s been through enough," he said. "And I’m not going to let anyone play with her heart. Not even someone who ’just likes’ her."

His voice remained calm, but there was something dangerous underneath.

"Zephany’s not just a girl you meet and forget after a few months. She acts tough, but she’s soft. She holds on to people too tightly when she cares. She’ll hide her pain, smile like she’s fine, but inside she breaks easily. I won’t let anyone break her."

Kendrick nodded slowly, taking in every word. His voice was soft when he finally spoke.

"I know you’re concerned about her. And I get that. But I swear, I wouldn’t treat her badly."

Reynold didn’t move.

He just stared at him, silent and still.

Kendrick stayed quiet, letting the silence stretch between them. Reynold’s face gave away nothing, but Kendrick could tell he was thinking. Watching.

He must have looked into Kendrick’s background already. Of course he did. He was a detective. It was his job.

Kendrick’s record was clean. No criminal history, no shady connections, not even a hint of gossip. He was praised as a child prodigy—a genius in both academics and sports, even winning martial arts championships.

But then, he suddenly chose to live a quiet life. So quiet that only recently his past achievements started resurfacing online. On paper, he seemed almost too perfect.

Maybe that was what made Reynold skeptical.

Reynold’s eyes narrowed, as if confirming something to himself. Maybe he didn’t want to believe it, but the facts were there. Kendrick had no history with women. No exes, no late-night parties, no scandalous rumors. Nothing but his quiet life, his family, and now Zephany.

Still, Reynold wouldn’t admit any of that.

Better to stay cautious. Too many things didn’t add up. Especially the contract marriage between the two.

Reynold leaned back slightly, thinking about the clause—after one year, the truth would be revealed. That alone told him his sister was also searching for something. Answers.

Was Kendrick aware of it too?