Chapter 143 Everything in the Text Message is True
When Jonathan came over, what he saw was Steven looking completely lost and devastated.
His heart skipped a beat, and he hurried in to ask, "Mr. Martinez, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell somewhere? Should I call a doctor?"
Steven looked up at the sound, staring at Jonathan's face. He froze for a moment as sensation gradually returned to his body.
The darkness that had been enveloping him consciously dispersed when it met the light in the office area.
In just that brief moment, he felt utterly exhausted.
He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. His usually warm and pleasant voice now sounded as if it had been rolled over rough gravel.
His voice carried a hint of weariness, "No need."
With that, he walked toward his office.
Jonathan followed. Once inside the office, he closed and locked the door behind them, then said, "Mr. Martinez, there's progress on both things you asked me to investigate."
Steven froze slightly, his eyes trembling as his heart pounded.
He spoke hoarsely, "Go ahead."
Jonathan said, "The owner of that phone number really was an elderly person in their seventies who passed away half a month ago. They lived in a high-end nursing home and had Alzheimer's—sometimes lucid, sometimes confused."
Steven found this absurd and looked up at him, "Are you trying to tell me the person who sent me those messages is already dead? And was crazy before they died?"
Jonathan had been surprised, too, when he found this out.
It gave him chills.
He thought for a moment, "That hacker didn't find any encryption protection on this number. There's only one explanation—someone picked up the old person's SIM card. But..."
This explanation also had bugs.
The elderly person had always been in the high-end nursing home, never went out, and was only sent to the crematorium by family members after death.
Steven frowned, "What was this old person's name?"
Jonathan shook his head, "The nursing home records show the name as Thea. She apparently had no children. The people who visited her and handled her funeral arrangements were her two nephews and nieces."
Steven rubbed his fingers and said, "Then look into her nephews and nieces, mainly ask them how they handled her phone after she died. It's also possible she dropped it at the nursing home, and someone picked it up there."
"Yes, I understand."
Steven clenched his fist, his eyes darkening. He didn't want to face the other news, yet urgently wanted Jonathan's investigation results.
He paused, then said, "What progress is there on the whistleblower?"
Jonathan's expression was complicated. He hesitated for a few seconds, took out his phone, tapped on it a few times, and pushed it in front of him.
He said quietly, "That hacker sent me an audio recording."
Steven's frown deepened as he lightly touched the play button.
Three or four seconds later, a familiar female voice came through: "Hello, I'm filing a formal report that Radiant Beauty Spa in downtown Horizon Plaza is involved in prostitution activities underground."
This voice...
Steven's pupils froze. It was like a heavy hammer had struck his chest, knocking all his organs out of place.
After the recording finished, he remained frozen for a full minute before holding his breath and replaying it with trembling hands.
Then, as if falling into endless madness, or perhaps self-torture, he replayed that recording over and over again.
For about five minutes, every word in that recording was like scorching lava, dripping into his bloodstream, endlessly burning his soul.
Jonathan couldn't bear to watch anymore and spoke up to pull back his reason, drowning in emotion, "Mr. Martinez. About the source of this recording, the hacker said it's a trade secret they won't reveal, so this recording still needs verification. It's possible... the voice just sounds similar..."
Similar?
How could it just be similar?
This voice was clearly Rachel's.
He had loved her for six years—how could he not recognize her voice?
Whether happy, angry, or sad and upset, he could recognize all her voices.
He thought again of those two strange text messages.
So what the messages said was true...
All true...
He unconsciously murmured this sentence, his heart suddenly clenching in pain, his hands and feet ice-cold, as if thrown into a bottomless ice pit.
His body instantly lost balance, his knees felt like the bones had been removed, and the floor became a tilting deck.
He uncontrollably fell from his chair, collapsing to his knees on the floor.
The person who reported Radiant Beauty Spa really was her.
She had been lying to him all along.
Acting all along.
Using him all along.
She knew everything.
It was all fake.
Fake...
His chest suddenly ached, as if pierced by a blade. Blood surged up his throat.
His face flushed red. He coughed heavily, and a trace of fresh blood splattered on the floor.
So this is what it feels like to be betrayed and deceived by the person you love most.
So when heartbreak reaches its extreme, people really do cough up blood.
Jonathan was terrified, calling out "Mr. Martinez" several times, but those words in his ears were just blurred, ringing sounds.
Just as he was about to call an ambulance, Steven suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Don't call. Go out. I want to be alone."
He struggled to squeeze out a difficult voice from his broken throat, mixed with heavy breathing.
Jonathan was worried, "Mr. Martinez..."
The veins on Steven's forehead bulged, and he lost patience, as if wanting to vent all the anger compressed in his chest.
"Don't you understand? I told you to get out! I want to be alone! Or do you want to stay here and keep watching me make a fool of myself?!"
Jonathan opened his mouth. Knowing he couldn't accept this truth right now, he said nothing in the end, nodded slightly, took his phone, and left.
Just as he reached the office door, a hoarse, torn voice came from behind, "Send me the recording. Buy out this recording from the hacker, and delete the one on your phone too."
Jonathan froze, looked back, but didn't see anyone, and still responded with "Yes."
Once he left, the huge office became quiet.
Steven lost all sensation in his body, remaining in a kneeling position, his eyes painfully and emptily staring at that trace of blood on the floor.
What should he do now?
Take that recording back and confront Rachel?
Ask if she was really the one who reported Radiant Beauty Spa? Then ask why she did it?
What if she admits it?
How should he choose then?
And what if she uses this opportunity to lay everything out and ask for a divorce?
[She and Benjamin have long had a different kind of relationship. Once she achieves her goal, she'll abandon you without hesitation.]
This text suddenly popped into his mind.
His heart suddenly stopped.
Goal?
What could her goal be?
Send Heather to prison, then divorce him and be with Benjamin?