Chapter 213 The Truth About That Year

Chapter 213 The Truth About That Year

The moment the gunshot rang out, Olivia instinctively flinched, her heart slamming against her ribs. Before she could process what had happened, a familiar scream pierced the air—Nathan's voice.

Olivia turned to see Nathan collapsed on the floor, blood pouring from his chest and staining his expensive suit crimson. He struggled to reach out toward her, gasping, "Call an ambulance! Hurry! Get me out of here!"

The guests around them scrambled backward in terror, nobody daring to help.

Olivia slowly walked over to him, looking down at the spreading pool of blood with no sympathy in her heart, only a complex mix of emotions.

She pulled out her phone but didn't immediately dial. She just stared down at Nathan.

Nathan lay there, his breathing becoming more labored by the second. Seeing the phone in Olivia's hand, his eyes filled with desperation, "Hurry up! It'll be too late if you wait any longer!"

Olivia crouched down beside him, her voice eerily calm, "I can call an ambulance for you, but first you need to tell me exactly how my mother died that year."

Nathan's eyes went wide, then flickered with evasion, "Your mother died from fatigue-related driving, which caused the car accident—haven't I told you this before?"

"Is that so?" Olivia looked down at him, her tone ice-cold. "Seraphina already told me what really happened that year. I even have a recording of our phone conversation. Would you like to hear it?"

Nathan's face went several shades paler, his breathing becoming even more erratic, "Don't listen to Seraphina's nonsense. We've been having relationship problems these past two years; she doesn't trust me anymore. Just call the ambulance!"

Seeing his continued refusal to tell the truth, Olivia pressed a button on her phone screen, turning it dark.

"If you won't tell me the truth, I won't call for help."

Watching the phone screen go black, Nathan began trembling all over, the blood from his chest flowing even more heavily. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer. Through gritted teeth, his voice filled with despair, "It was me! I put sleeping pills in her food that year!"

Olivia's body went rigid, her eyes immediately filling with tears, "Why would you do that? She was your wife!"

"But her existence made everyone think I was worthless!" Nathan's voice turned manic. "Yes, she loved me, but in front of her, I had no dignity at all. I was like a parasite living off her success. Everyone looked down on me—I'm a man, I can't spend my whole life dependent on a woman. I needed independence. I needed her gone!"

Looking down at him, tears streaming down her face, Olivia finally knew the truth about her mother's death. This father she'd always thought was simply indifferent and distant had actually been her mother's killer. She stood up, no longer looking at Nathan on the ground, and turned toward Matthew.

Meanwhile, Scarlett had finally found what she'd dropped under a table during the chaos—the detonator. Clutching the device tightly, she rushed toward the ballroom's back exit, her heart racing with excitement. Finally, she could detonate the bombs and get her revenge.

Reaching the back door, she stopped and placed her finger on the detonator's button, taking a deep breath before preparing to press it. But no matter how many times she pressed, nothing happened. Frowning, Scarlett looked more carefully at what she was holding, only to realize this wasn't a bomb detonator at all—it was a car key fob with a small luxury car logo dangling from it.

"How is this possible!"

Feeling furious, Scarlett threw the car keys on the ground, then quickly picked them up again. She knew there was no time to search for the real detonator—the police and bomb squad would arrive soon, and she had to get out of there. Gripping the car keys, she ran out the back door, planning to find a vehicle to escape and wait for her next opportunity.

Back in the ballroom, Stanley was still holding Celeste hostage, facing off with the police. Looking at the bomb on the ground, then at the bomb squad approaching in the distance, his panic grew. He shouted at the officers, "Don't come any closer! Move another step and I'll detonate the bomb! Everyone here will die with me!"

As he yelled, he reached into his pocket, pretending to search for the detonator. But his pocket was empty—he had no detonator at all. His threats were just bluffs to intimidate the police.

The lead officer watched Stanley's movements carefully, growing suspicion evident in his eyes. He took a slow step forward, his voice steady, "If you really had a detonator, you wouldn't just be talking about it. You've been in this standoff since we arrived, but you've never actually shown a detonator or made any real move to detonate. You're bluffing."

Stanley's body went rigid, his face immediately turning ashen. He hadn't expected the police to see through his act. He could only stubbornly retort, "I'm not bluffing! I'm just waiting for you to get my getaway car ready! If you keep stalling, I really will detonate!"

"Really?" The officer stopped, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Then go ahead and press it. Unless you can't actually detonate anything?"

Stanley gripped the knife tighter, his knuckles white with tension. Seeing the officer's distrustful expression, then looking at Celeste trembling in his arms, his mind raced with panic. The bomb squad was getting closer, the police no longer believed his threats, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold out or what to do next.

Matthew stood nearby, watching the tense standoff with growing anxiety. He wanted to step forward and try to reason with Stanley, but feared provoking him further. He could only watch Stanley's every movement, ready to respond to any sudden developments.

Olivia walked over to Matthew's side and gently tugged his arm. Matthew turned, seeing her reddened eyes, his heart filling with concern, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Olivia shook her head, speaking quietly, "I know the truth about how my mother died. Nathan was the killer."

Matthew froze, his expression darkening. Just as he was about to respond, they heard the officer address Stanley again, "This is my final warning—release Mrs. Howard and surrender. You're out of time."

Stanley's breathing became increasingly rapid, his eyes full of internal struggle. He looked at the bomb on the ground, then at the approaching bomb squad, his lips moving soundlessly.

The tension in the room crystallized as everyone stared at Stanley, wondering what choice he would make next—would he drop the knife and surrender, or would he actually do something desperate to harm Celeste?

By now, Ryan and Joan had escaped to the grounds outside the mansion. Sitting in their car, they could see light streaming from the mansion's windows and could faintly hear the shouting from inside. Joan frowned with worry, "I wonder how things are going in there. Will Stanley really detonate the bomb? Matthew can't die in there."

Ryan shook his head, calculation evident in his expression, "Don't worry, the bomb squad is already inside. There won't be any problems. The police won't let him near the bomb either, so just relax."

Joan nodded, falling silent. The car's atmosphere grew quiet except for the gentle hum of the engine, while inside the mansion, the dangerous standoff continued.