Chapter 432 - Taking Turns to Deceive

Laila made a gesture inviting the police officer to continue speaking. She was curious to see what kind of reasons they could come up with to deceive her.

"We went to the coffee shop to apprehend individuals based on a tip about illegal activities taking place there. We witnessed members of a motorcycle gang engaging in violence, causing significant disorder, and showing disregard for the law. You should know that Hollywood is the center of the American and global film industry. Countless visitors come here each year, and we need to ensure their safety. We also don't want them to witness any negative incidents. Don't you agree?" the officer explained.

Laila had to exert considerable effort to keep from laughing. Did these police officers think she was an infant they could easily deceive? She admitted that she looked young, and indeed she was, but was she so young that she would fall for such an absurd reason?

Just look at what he was saying. According to him, the coffee shop was a cancerous tumor polluting the city, damaging America's image, causing foreigners to suffer both physically and mentally, and making them flee in fear. If the coffee shop were so terrible, why not just throw it at Iraq or Osama Bin Laden? Or better yet, use environmentally friendly weapons to eliminate it.

"Do you think I'm three years old?" Deception was fine, but they could at least put in some effort. Such a shallow and straightforward lie made her feel insulted.

"What do you mean? Do you think we would lie to you?" The "good cop" immediately erupted, his face turning red, and he slammed his hand on the table.

Laila leaned back to avoid being hit by the spray of saliva. Her reaction further infuriated the officer, who might have even drawn his gun if it weren't for his partner restraining him.

However, such actions might scare others, but they didn't frighten Laila. If they were in a remote, deserted place and faced a gun-wielding police officer, she might have been concerned for her safety. But here, inside the police station, with cameras recording their every move, there was no way the officer would draw his weapon, even if he acted like a tough guy.

"Miss, think about your family. You may have received compensation from Aiden, but have you considered why he paid you to help him? It's because he's facing a problem he can't handle himself. If he, as an adult, can't resolve it, do you think you can handle it? Do your parents and family want to see you in danger? What if something goes wrong? Do you want them to suffer because of you?" The soft-spoken officer's words were designed to elicit sympathy. If Laila didn't know what they were after, she might have been moved by his apparent concern.

"What do you suggest I do then?" She calmly asked, maintaining her composure.

Her attitude seemed to suggest to the police officers that she was getting scared. If she got scared, it would be perfect. If she was frightened, they could easily manipulate her into doing whatever they wanted.

"It's quite simple. The coffee shop is the source of all these troubles. Just get rid of it, and you can distance yourself from the problems," the officer said.

"So, should I return the coffee shop to Aiden?" Laila asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Absolutely not!" The hot-tempered "bad cop" immediately objected. Returning the shop to the old man, who was as stubborn as they come, would only complicate matters further. It was much easier to start with the young girl.

The "good cop" elbowed his partner and gave him a subtle signal to calm down. Then, with a smile, he said to Laila, "Actually, I'd recommend selling the shop to someone willing to pay a higher price. Don't forget, the coffee shop is already in your name. You can sell it to anyone you want. And since Aiden got you involved in such a big mess, don't you think you deserve some compensation?"

Laila nodded, appearing intrigued by his proposal. "You make a valid point. I think I'll go find a suitable buyer."

"Choose carefully; there's a good chance you'll get conned," the officer warned as he took out a business card and handed it to her. "I suggest you consider this person. He's a reputable and generous real estate developer. I'm sure he'd be willing to offer you a satisfying price for the coffee shop."

Laila smirked, briefly glancing at the business card. She wore a sly smile as she said, "That sounds promising. I wonder how much he's willing to offer."

The police officer, believing she was willing to sell, smiled in response. "We're just police officers; we can't get involved in business matters. If you're interested, we can contact him right now."

"Very well, let's have him come," Laila agreed. She hadn't called her lawyer or revealed her true identity because she wanted to meet the real estate developer behind this scheme. If her identity were exposed, he might go into hiding, trembling in fear.

She intended to use this opportunity to resolve the issue completely. You could make money, sure, but don't try to encroach on her territory! Even a real estate developer worth billions would still be considered a small-time player in the eyes of the Morans!

It was probably when the real estate businessman received the phone call from the police a moment ago that he had left his place. Laila had waited in the interrogation room for about ten minutes when the door was opened, and a man walked in from outside. He was dressed in a sharp gray pinstripe suit, had a thick gold chain around his neck, and was even holding a cigar in his mouth.

"Hey, young lady, I'm Victor, your friend. Let me handle your troubles!" Victor smiled, revealing two gleaming gold teeth, and casually took a seat across from Laila.

His words were friendly and touching, making Laila feel like she could shed tears of relief. The police had treated her like a child, thinking they could start a promising venture with someone who would have some brains, but they had disappointed her.

If someone with this level of intelligence could make hundreds of millions, what had she been working so hard for in the past? And why were those who worked tirelessly but earned so little struggling so much?

"Mr. Victor, I want to know how much money you're willing to pay to solve my troubles?"

She ignored his attempt to get closer through personal connections and got straight to the point. She welcomed him to solve her problems, but how much was he willing to offer?