Chapter 333 Murder
The night was pitch black, and a cold wind whistled through the cracks in the window, making a low, mournful sound. Emma sat at her desk, fingers lightly tapping on the keyboard, the screen displaying a freshly organized set of data. Her brow was furrowed, her gaze sharp, as she tried to piece together a complete truth from the scattered clues.
The cause of George's death—more and more suspicions pointed to Phoenix.
Emma took a deep breath, recalling her recent investigation. It seemed accidental that George fell from the building, but she had found many unusual details: the traces were too cleanly erased, and George had met with Phoenix before the incident. Moreover, Phoenix's bank account had recently received a large sum of money.
The Russell family was bankrupt, and Scarlett had no extra money, so where did Phoenix's money come from?
All the clues pointed to one possibility—George's death was not an accident but a murder.
And Phoenix was the prime suspect.
"If it really was her," Emma muttered to herself, a cold glint in her eyes, "she always had a crush on George. Why would she kill him?"
She was about to dig deeper when her phone buzzed. Emma picked it up, and the screen showed a text message from Phoenix.
[Emma, you're investigating George's case, right? I have something to tell you. Meet me at The Russell Mansion tonight at eight.]
Emma stared at the message, her instincts screaming a warning. It was no coincidence that Phoenix reached out to her. She knew her investigation had hit a nerve, and this message from Phoenix might be a trap.
But she didn't back down.
"Same trick, twice? You're too confident," Emma sneered, grabbing her coat and leaving the house.
The Russell Mansion had been reclaimed by Michael, but he didn't like the place, so it remained vacant. Emma had all the keys and codes, making it easy for her to get in.
The Russell Mansion, built in the early 20th century, was a blend of various architectural styles, with tall stone columns, ornate windows, and a spacious terrace, all showcasing the Russell family's former glory. The mansion was surrounded by dense trees, and the garden was once filled with exotic flowers, attracting countless guests in spring and summer.
However, in just a few days of neglect, The Russell Mansion had become desolate and eerie.
The flowers in the garden had started to wither, replaced by overgrown weeds. Occasionally, a few crows cawed from the bare trees, adding to the mansion's sinister atmosphere.
Emma stood alone in the yard, but Phoenix never showed up.
Then, lightning flashed, and it began to rain.
Emma took shelter in the study.
The rain poured down, hammering against the ornate glass windows, threatening to shatter them.
Emma stood in the study of The Russell Mansion, the beam of her flashlight sweeping across rows of old books and dust-covered decorations. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the floor with a soft sound.
She wiped the rain from her eyes, her gaze falling on a tall bookshelf.
George had loved reading here, and perhaps this study held his secrets. She took a deep breath, her fingers gently brushing the spines of the books, trying to find the hidden compartment she remembered.
"It should be here," she murmured, her fingers suddenly touching a slight indentation. With a faint click, the third shelf's panel slowly popped open.
The flashlight's beam illuminated the hidden compartment, and Emma's heart sank—a silver USB drive lay inside, covered in a thin layer of dust. She picked it up, the cold touch making her fingers tremble slightly.
Could this contain evidence of Phoenix's involvement in George's murder?
Her heart pounded, and she suddenly heard faint footsteps. Emma quickly turned, the flashlight sweeping the room, but there was nothing.
"Who are you thinking about?" a cold voice came from behind.
Emma spun around, the flashlight revealing Phoenix's figure. She wore a black lace dress, three-inch red-soled heels, and sunglasses. Her hands were gloved in white lace, her fingers long and elegant, but exuding a chilling menace.
"You're here," Emma said coldly, her voice tinged with caution. She noticed Phoenix's right hand hidden behind her, a glimpse of white fabric visible.
"Emma, you're persistent," Phoenix said, removing her sunglasses, her eyes cold as ice. "But persistence won't solve anything. It'll just get you killed faster. The police have closed the case. George committed suicide. Why are you still investigating?"
Emma responded, "He was my son's father. I owe Lucas an explanation."
"Bullshit. You just can't let go of George!" Phoenix sneered, clearly not believing Emma's excuse. Emma didn't care to convince her; Phoenix's understanding was irrelevant.
Emma's silence was expected by Phoenix but provoked George, who had been eavesdropping on the study.
"She didn't deny it. She still loves me."
Emma's pupils contracted slightly as she noticed Phoenix's right hand slowly rising. Suddenly, a sweet, pungent smell filled the air, and a chloroform-soaked cloth covered her mouth and nose from behind.
"Don't struggle," a man's voice said, low and mocking. "You can't escape."
Emma gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay conscious. She knew that losing consciousness meant losing her chance. Her fingers fumbled in the dark, searching for anything to fight back with. Suddenly, she touched the pepper spray in her pocket—a birthday gift from Lucas, small but powerful.
"Let go!" she mumbled, using all her strength to knee the man in the belly.
The man grunted, his grip loosening slightly. Emma seized the moment, quickly pulling out the pepper spray and pressing the button, releasing a burst of stinging mist into the darkness.
"Get away from me!" she growled, jabbing the pepper spray into the man's eyes.
The man screamed in pain, blinded instantly, and the cloth fell to the floor. He stumbled back, clutching his eyes, his face twisted in agony.
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