Chapter 498 The Murderer
Emma wiped away her tears and leaned in close to George's ear, whispering, "George, if you can hear me, I'm gonna find out who did this. I won't let your injury be for nothing."
She straightened up, gave him one last, long look, and then turned to leave.
As she closed the door, her eyes had already become resolute and sharp.
Back in her room, she immediately called Charlotte. "I need a copy of that blood test report, ASAP."
After hanging up, Emma walked to the window, staring out at the bright sunshine.
Before the accident, all she wanted was to end her marriage with George as quickly as possible. Now, she was determined to unmask the hidden assailant.
Not just for her own safety, but to bring justice to George, who was still lying in the ICU.
The next day, rain pattered against the hospital corridor windows, like countless tiny fingers anxiously scratching at the glass.
Emma stood by the window, clutching the manila envelope Charlotte had given her, her knuckles white from the pressure.
Inside the envelope was a copy of her blood test report, along with additional information Charlotte had risked retrieving from the hospital database.
When Charlotte handed her the envelope in the hospital's back garden, her fingers were as cold as ice.
"Watch out for your mother-in-law," Charlotte had whispered, glancing around nervously. "That kind of drug isn't something an ordinary person can get their hands on."
Scarlett, of course!
The last time Emma saw Scarlett, she looked so tormented that Emma thought she couldn't cause any more trouble.
But it seemed Scarlett was still relentless!
Back in the present, Emma entered an empty hospital lounge. She locked the door and, with trembling hands, opened the envelope.
On top was her blood test report, with a line circled in red ink standing out among the dense data: [Detected trace amounts of Methylphenidate derivative, structurally similar to compound QX-309.]
QX-309? Emma quickly flipped through the documents. It was a copy of a drug development file, bearing the "BioCellTech Solutions" logo, dated three years ago.
The file indicated that QX-309 was a neural inhibitor originally designed to treat epilepsy but was discontinued due to "potentially causing irreversible cardiac conduction block."
At the bottom of the file, the approval signature read "Scarlett."
"This can't be," Emma's breath quickened.
It wasn't that she trusted Scarlett's character, but she believed in Scarlett's intelligence.
Controlling a biotech company developing dangerous drugs in secret? Did she have the brains for that?
If she were that smart, why did she always seem like a brainless socialite who only knew how to spend money and have fun?
Why not try to save the Russell Group?
Why not help George get back on his feet?
So, it had to be fake!
At the bottom of the envelope was a photograph.
Emma pulled it out, and her blood nearly froze—Scarlett was in the picture, talking to a man in a doctor's uniform in a hospital corridor, holding a small bottle labeled "QX-309."
The date in the corner of the photo was just a week before Emma faked her death and left Lakeside Haven.
Her phone suddenly vibrated, interrupting her thoughts. It was a text from an unknown number: [Parking garage, level B2. Urgent. Charlotte.]
Emma's heart raced. She quickly stuffed the documents back into the envelope, hid it in her coat pocket, and hurried to the elevator.
As it descended to level B2, a strong smell of gasoline hit her.
"Charlotte?" Emma called softly, her voice echoing in the empty parking garage.
A faint groan came from a distance.
Emma ran towards the sound and was horrified by what she saw—Charlotte's car had crashed into a support pillar, the front completely mangled, the windshield shattered like a spider web.
Charlotte was trapped in the driver's seat, her face covered in blood, using her last bit of strength to write something on the window.
"Charlotte!" Emma tugged at the deformed car door, the metal groaning but not budging.
"Hold on! I'll get you out!" Emma frantically searched for something to break the window, but the parking garage was eerily empty, with only a few flickering overhead lights casting ghostly shadows.
Charlotte's lips moved, but no sound came out. Her fingers trembled as she drew a letter on the glass—an "S."
"Scarlett?" Emma blurted out, her heart pounding, "Did she do this?"
Charlotte's eyes suddenly widened, her pupils reflecting a shadow approaching Emma from behind.
Before Emma could turn, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth and nose, the strong smell of ether filling her nostrils.
Emma struggled desperately, her nails digging into the attacker's arm. He grunted but tightened his grip. Her vision blurred, her legs felt like lead.
Just as she was about to lose consciousness, a shout echoed through the parking garage: "Let her go!"
A thud, and the grip on Emma loosened. She stumbled to the ground, seeing the attacker being kicked several feet away, crashing into a concrete pillar.
"Michael?"
The ever-protective Michael stood before her, radiating a deadly aura.
The attacker quickly got up, drawing a gleaming knife from his waist. Michael smirked, tossing aside his suit jacket and assuming a fighting stance. "Bring it on."
They clashed instantly. Michael moved with incredible speed, sidestepping the knife and delivering a sharp chop to the attacker's wrist.
The knife clattered to the ground, and with a pained cry, the attacker was thrown over Michael's shoulder, slamming into the floor.
"Who sent you?" Michael demanded, his foot pressing down on the attacker's chest, his voice icy.
The attacker gave a twisted smile, black blood oozing from his mouth—he had bitten down on a poison capsule hidden in his teeth.
Within seconds, his body convulsed violently, then went limp.
"Damn it!" Michael cursed, rushing to Emma. "Are you okay?"
Emma didn't answer, scrambling towards Charlotte's car. "Save her, hurry!"
But it was too late. Charlotte's head slumped against the steering wheel, the unfinished letter on the window stained with blood.
Her right index finger still poised as if writing, but she was unconscious.
"No!" Emma's tears flowed freely, her fingers trembling as she touched the blood-streaked window. Charlotte was the only one who knew the truth; she couldn't die.
Michael knelt beside her, gently gripping her shoulder. "We need to leave now. It's not safe here."
"She's dead," Emma murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloody letter. "She was trying to tell me Scarlett is the culprit!"
Michael's eyes sharpened. "You figured it out too?"
He scanned the area, lowering his voice. "I've been investigating this. Charlotte contacted me, saying someone wanted to kill her."
Emma's head snapped up. "You know Charlotte?"
"More than just know her."
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