Chapter 231: [231] "HOUSE 1 PART 3"

Hugo walked over to the plunge pool. He crouched down, inspecting the filtration system and the thermostat mounted on the wall.

"The hardware is top-tier," Hugo murmured to Luc, standing back up. "The installation of a hyperbaric chamber alone requires specialized permits that take months to acquire. Having it is a massive advantage."

Luc nodded slowly, pacing the length of it. It was exactly the kind of setup an elite athlete required. It eliminated the need to linger at the training ground for recovery on off-days.

But something about the extreme specialization of the house was gnawing at the back of Luc’s mind.

The layout, the emphasis on hosting, the hyper-specific athletic equipment.

"The seller," Luc said, turning to look at the agent. "You said the current owner...Why is he selling a place he obviously just finished customizing? The permits for this basement couldn’t have cleared more than a year ago."

Laurent-Pierre’s slick smile faltered for the second time that afternoon. He shifted awkwardly, suddenly looking very interested in the clasp of his portfolio.

"The seller is a highly motivated individual," the agent dodged, his voice dropping an octave into a more confidential tone. "He relocated his primary residence due to professional obligations in another city. He simply doesn’t spend enough time in this district to justify holding the asset. He is willing to move quickly on the closing paperwork."

Luc didn’t break eye contact. He stepped closer to the agent, the imposing gravity of his six-foot-plus frame radiating a certain aura.

"That didn’t answer my question, Laurent-Pierre," Luc said softly. "Who holds the deed?"

The agent swallowed hard. He knew he was legally required to provide the disclosure, but he clearly understood the volatility it was about to induce in the men standing in front of him.

"The property is currently registered under a holding company," Laurent-Pierre explained nervously. "But the primary beneficiary of that trust... is Olivier Fontaine."

The name hung in the humid air of the recovery suite.

"Olivier fucking Fontaine."

The Paris Royal striker. The man currently sitting at twenty-six league goals, one of the men hunting Luc down in the Golden Boot race. The crown jewel of their most hated rival.

Luc’s jaw locked instantly. The muscles in his neck tightened.

He looked around the pristine, state-of-the-art basement, suddenly realizing why it felt so...so arrogant. The house was built by a player who prioritized flash over substance, a player who wanted a glass fortress to show off to the media rather than a home.

Luc turned his head to look at Hugo.

The seventeen-year-old maestro was already wrapping up. Hugo didn’t look angry as he looked at the thermostat, then looked at the agent.

"The property itself is nice and sufficient," Hugo stated, his voice returning to its coldest tone. "However, the contamination of the premises renders it uninhabitable."

Laurent-Pierre blinked, deeply confused. "Contamination? Monsieur Blanc, I assure you, the property has been professionally deep-cleaned--"

"Let’s go, Hugo," Luc interrupted, turning on his heel and walking straight toward the glass staircase.

"I’m ready to go, Captain," Hugo replied, falling perfectly into step behind Luc.

"Gentlemen, please!" Laurent-Pierre pleaded, chasing them up the stairs, his expensive leather shoes slipping slightly on the glass steps. "The seller is willing to negotiate significantly below market value! We can easily drop the asking price to compensate for any... personal rivalries!"

Luc reached the top of the stairs, crossing the vast living room without breaking his stride. He didn’t bother looking back at the agent.

"We wouldn’t take it if he paid us to live here," Luc threw over his shoulder, pushing the massive front door open and stepping out into the brisk afternoon air.

Hugo exited behind him, letting the door swing shut and effectively cutting off the agent’s desperate sales pitch.

They walked down the front steps in complete silence. The gravel crunched beneath their boots as they approached the parked Porsche. Luc unlocked the doors, pulling the handle open and dropping into the driver’s seat.

Hugo sat in the passenger side, pulling his tablet back out.

Luc started the engine. The roar of the exhaust made it seem like the car was also a rival of Fontaine’s. He gripped the steering wheel, a dark, competitive fire burning in his chest.

Just hearing the Paris Royal striker’s name was enough to spike his adrenaline and remind him exactly what was at stake for the remainder of the season.

"Cross it off," Luc commanded, throwing the car into reverse.

Hugo drew a thick, red digital line through the first address on his list.

"Listing eliminated due to extreme personal conflict," Hugo narrated calmly, checking the navigation. "The next property is located a few miles from our current position. It is a traditional stone build, heavily secluded."

"Good," Luc said, shifting the car into drive and accelerating aggressively down the driveway. "Let’s go find a house that isn’t infected by Paris Royal."

---

The Porsche engine idled smoothly as Luc navigated the vehicle away from the glass fortress that Olivier Fontaine owned. The black car merged back onto the main way, leaving the ultra-modern neighborhood behind.

Luc kept his hands loose on the steering wheel. The spike from hearing the Paris Royal striker’s name was already settling. He checked the rearview mirror, watching the traffic flow, before glancing over at the passenger seat.

Hugo Blanc was deleting the previous listing from his database, purging the address, the contact information of Laurent-Pierre, and the associated property records.

"Listing permanently removed," Hugo stated, locking the screen and resting his hands on top of the device.

"Good," Luc said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "You don’t want to live in a place built by a guy who celebrates tap-ins like he just won the World Cup."

Hugo processed the comment, his mind dissecting the rivalry. "The animosity between you and Fontaine is well documented. But, strictly from a neutral standpoint, the property did possess optimal recovery hardware. If we remove the emotional context of the seller, the basement was pretty nice."