Chapter 190 The First Crime Scene

Chapter 190 The First Crime Scene

Frank and Violette exchanged a glance, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of their mouths. If there was ever truth to the saying that a persistent man could wear down even the fiercest woman, Kieran was living proof.

In the end, Gwyneth told him. Kieran's reaction was instant and unrestrained.

"Of course I want to meet them. Are you kidding? Your parents want to see me? That's an honor."

Gwyneth rolled her eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself. They haven't accepted you yet."

Kieran didn't even flinch. "They will. Trust me, Gwyneth. If I ever get married, the bride will be you."

He tossed out the words like they cost him nothing, but the truth was, he was desperate. Henry was already planning his wedding, and Kieran hadn't even secured the girl. Watching Henry flaunt his happiness every day was driving him insane.

The meeting was set for the third day after Frank's release from the hospital. The place: Gwyneth's apartment. In the end, her parents had decided to move in with her, so the moment Frank was discharged, they came straight to the neighborhood.

Kieran, unfortunately, had been called to Silverlight City for a meeting and missed the chance to personally escort his future in-laws from the hospital — a missed opportunity for some prime goodwill points. He brooded over it far longer than he'd admit.

Meanwhile, Olivia was buried in the case. She'd been eating most of her meals at the station cafeteria. But since Frank's release, Gwyneth had been stopping by the Special Operations Unit to bring her food.

"Your godmother made mushroom soup — your favorite."

Olivia didn't stand on ceremony. She sat down, opened the container, and started eating. Gwyneth's eyes drifted to the open case file spread across the desk.

"This one's brutal," she murmured. "Kid gets abducted as a child, and the only reason his biological parents find him is because he's murdered. DNA confirms who he was."

Olivia nodded. "It's tragic. His adoptive parents treated him well. He'd just received a three-million-dollar demolition payout. Now he's nothing but a few bones."

Gwyneth's lips tightened. "People kill for money. If that's the motive, then that payout is the biggest lure."

Olivia's gaze darkened. "The problem is, the account's frozen. No one's touched the money. And yet, the suspect is still in the wind."

"If I had to guess," Gwyneth said slowly, "he hasn't left Silverlight City. He's watching. Waiting. He wants to know where the money will go. If he's willing to kill for it, he's not going to walk away empty-handed."

Olivia's eyes sharpened. She shoveled in the last few bites, then grabbed her phone. "Alton, meet me at the hospital."

Her theory was simple: if the killer needed the money badly enough to murder Lloyd, he wouldn't stop circling the Wallace family. He'd be looking for a way in.

"So we bait him," she explained. "Leak that Lloyd's account has been unfrozen. See if he takes the hook."

Alton's brow furrowed. "Good idea. But we have to be careful. If he's that desperate, he might go after the Wallaces directly."

"Then we make sure he's walking into a trap."

Within hours, Alton had coordinated with the bank to stage the unfreezing of the account. Patrols and surveillance around the Wallace House doubled. To spread the rumor faster, Alton even posted in the Wallace family's private group chat under Nico's name, announcing that the police had ruled Lloyd's death a homicide and that his account had been released.

Then they waited.

Through the surveillance feed, Olivia watched the street outside the Wallace House grow busier. Strangers lingered a little too long. Faces she didn't recognize passed by more than once.

Then she saw him — a man in a baseball cap, loitering near the front door, scanning the street like a cornered animal. Her instincts flared. She called Alton immediately.

The man paced for nearly fifteen minutes before pulling a set of keys from his pocket and letting himself inside.

"Alton, move in. I want him alive."

Alton's team stormed the house and found the man rifling through drawers. He was tackled to the floor before he could react. Olivia arrived moments later, her gaze cold and unyielding.

"Atlas. You finally show your face. You have your own home, yet here you are in your uncle's house. What exactly are you looking for?"

Atlas tried for indignation. "Officer, I'm just here to get my uncle some clothes from home. That's all. No need to treat me like a criminal."

Alton's voice was a low growl. "Clothes, or his bank card? We'll know soon enough."

Atlas's expression flickered, but he forced a smirk. "You have no proof. My uncle's in the hospital, his adoptive son refuses to help, so I'm stepping up. That's called being family. You can't smear me for that."

To anyone else, he might have sounded convincing. But Olivia saw right through the act.

"Atlas, you are a suspect in a homicide investigation. You're coming with us."

His mask slipped. He shoved two officers aside and bolted for the door.

Alton lunged, grabbing his shoulder, but Atlas's eyes locked on Olivia. "Screw you!" he spat, charging straight at her. If he couldn't escape, he'd take her hostage.

He never got the chance. Olivia sidestepped, seized his wrist, and twisted hard, forcing him to his knees. Her movements were fast, precise, and merciless.

Atlas froze, the realization dawning — the most dangerous person in the room was this woman.

She snapped handcuffs onto his wrists and handed him off to Alton. "Straight to interrogation. No special treatment. I want a confession on record as soon as possible."

Alton nodded, hauling the cursing, thrashing man away.

Olivia stayed behind, her eyes sweeping the Wallace House living room. Something felt wrong. She called over a colleague. "Get Forensics here with UV lights. I think this might be our primary crime scene."