A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss (by Gregory Ellington) novel Chapter 379

**Wram 379**

Alexander

My fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against the polished surface of the desk, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. “Is she married?” I asked, my voice barely concealing the urgency that coursed through me.

“Married? Well, I can’t say for certain. I didn’t spot a marriage license during my quick search. But that doesn’t rule anything out. Some states are notoriously finicky about their public records,” Leo replied, his tone lacking the conviction I craved.

“Does she have a child?” I pressed, my heart racing as I awaited his response.

Leo hesitated, clearly taken aback. “A child? Where’s this coming from, Alex?”

“Just answer the question, please,” I insisted, my impatience bubbling to the surface.

“Look, I managed to dig up some basic information—her address, business registration, that kind of stuff. But family details? That’s a whole different ball game. She’s not exactly a public figure. Those records aren’t easily accessible without a more thorough investigation.”

Frustration clawed at my insides, a tight knot forming in my stomach. “How long would that take?”

“A couple of days, maybe. I’d need to pull birth certificates, hospital records, and school enrollments if there’s a child involved. It’s not impossible, just time-consuming. Alternatively, I could take a different approach. Talk to people who might know her—neighbors, suppliers, regulars at the café. Sometimes the most valuable information comes from casual chats rather than sifting through dusty archives. Someone in her circle might have insights that no database could ever provide.”

“No. Don’t bother with that,” I cut him off, a sense of urgency gripping me.

“You sure? I could have it by Wednesday,” he offered, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m sure,” I replied, leaning back in my chair, the weight of my decision settling heavily on my shoulders. “I need something else.”

“Hit me,” he said, his tone shifting to one of curiosity.

“There was someone with Madison yesterday. A man. I need to know who he is,” I stated, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“A man?” Leo’s interest piqued, his tone sharpening. “Like a boyfriend?”

“I don’t know what he is. That’s why I’m asking you to find out,” I said, my frustration mounting.

“Okay. Name?”

“You don’t know his name.” Leo’s voice shifted from helpful to incredulous. “You want me to find someone, but you can’t give me a name? That’s like asking me to find a needle in a haystack without telling me what a needle looks like.”

“Find a way,” I instructed, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“Find a way,” he echoed flatly, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Right. Because I’m magic.”

“You’ve accomplished more with less,” I reminded him, my determination unwavering.

**Chapter 379**

Leo let out a long-suffering sigh, the sound conveying his reluctance. “Fine. Give me something. Anything. What does he look like? Age? Height? Any distinguishing features?”

I closed my eyes, conjuring the image of the man I’d seen the day before. “Mid-thirties. Maybe around six feet tall. He wore a suit, but it wasn’t anything extravagant—more like business casual. He seemed at ease, like he was familiar with Madison.”

“Great. That narrows it down to approximately every man in Connecticut,” Leo quipped, rustling papers on his end. “Any cars? Did you catch what he was driving?”

“No. Just find him,” I urged, my frustration simmering.

“You’re asking for a miracle here, Alex. But sure, I’ll just pull one out of thin air because that’s apparently what I do now,” he replied, more typing echoing through the line. “I’ll see what I can dig up. Might take a few hours.”

“Make it fast,” I demanded, my impatience flaring once again.

“Because you’re so patient and reasonable about these things,” he said, pausing for a moment. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead, leaving me in a silence that felt suffocating.

I glanced at my watch, calculating the time. If I left now, I could be in Connecticut by two.

Not that I was actually going to go. That would be utterly insane—showing up two days in a row at Madison’s café like some obsessive stalker.

I opened my calendar, scanning the afternoon meetings. Nothing was so critical that it couldn’t be rescheduled or delegated to someone else.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself behind the wheel of my Aston Martin, the engine purring to life. The midday traffic was surprisingly light, the highway stretching ahead of me with minimal congestion.

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