Chapter 97 His Mistress Zoe?
Perhaps it was the intensity of the movements, or perhaps the heated atmosphere—suddenly, Zoe's mask loosened and slipped off her face.
Her features, intoxicated with alcohol and desire, were now fully exposed.
Evelyn's spirits soared instantly.
"Quick! Get the close-up! Now!" she hissed urgently to the man beside her.
The man fumbled with the camera, frantically focusing the lens on Zoe's completely unguarded face.
...
After three days of fallout, Moore Group's stock price plummeted like a kite with its string cut—another devastating limit-down day.
In his office, Matthew remained as steady as a mountain, fingers tapping lightly on his keyboard as he handled overseas business matters, occasionally rising to receive important clients.
Yesterday, regulatory officials had come knocking, subjecting him to serious questioning.
The scandal had escalated to the point where government authorities were taking it seriously.
Emma was genuinely getting restless. She walked to Matthew's desk, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Matthew, this can't go on. With the stock price crashing like this every day, we're going to bankrupt the company!"
She took a deep breath.
"What if we hold a press conference to properly explain the situation?"
Matthew looked up from his documents, his eyes behind the glasses holding their usual warm smile.
"Sure." He closed his laptop. "I'll go along with whatever you decide."
After a pause, he added, "But we'll need to wait three days."
"Three more days?"
Emma was somewhat speechless. At a time like this, he was still this composed.
But on second thought, he always had his own rhythm and deeper reasoning for everything. Perhaps he really did have some arrangement she wasn't aware of.
Matthew noticed her furrowed brow and his lips curved upward.
"What, worried about me?"
He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed.
"If I really do go bankrupt, I'll just report to Bluebird Tech for duty. How about it, Ms. Rodriguez—would you take in this unemployed guy?"
He still held the position of General Manager at Bluebird Tech. Over the past three years, Bluebird Tech's flourishing development owed much to his efforts and dedication.
Emma laughed despite herself, the worry between her brows easing somewhat.
"Sure, as long as you're willing to work for me, I'd be more than happy to have you."
Her tone was light, tinged with playful teasing.
Just then, Matthew's personal phone rang sharply, the sound particularly jarring in the quiet office.
He picked up his phone, glanced at the caller ID, and answered.
"Hello."
Whatever the caller said made Matthew's expression turn cold instantly, his eyes growing sharp.
"Clean up your own mess!"
He spoke only these few words, his voice ice-cold and emotionless, then quickly hung up.
The entire exchange was so brief it was almost jarring.
Emma watched his face darken in an instant, her heart tightening.
"What happened?" she asked softly, unable to hide the concern in her voice.
Matthew casually tossed his phone onto the desk. The coldness on his face had mostly receded, but deep in his eyes, unnamed emotions still churned.
"Nothing, just some trivial matters from headquarters." He rubbed his temples, seeming somewhat weary. "Would you have dinner with me tonight?"
He looked up at Emma, his gaze returning to its usual warmth, as if his sudden change moments before had been merely an illusion.
Emma nodded. "Alright."
She didn't press further, knowing that when he didn't want to discuss something, asking would be pointless.
"I'll go get back to work then." She turned and left the office.
The moment the office door closed, the warmth vanished from Matthew's face entirely.
He quickly grabbed another encrypted phone from his desk and dialed a number. The instant the call connected, his voice turned cold and hard as steel, devoid of any warmth.
"Clean it up completely! If necessary, cut loose the dead weight!"
In his eyes, a chilling murderous intent swirled, so intense it seemed ready to spill over.
...
Meanwhile.
In a long-abandoned estate on the outskirts of town, the air was thick with decay and dampness.
Nicholas and Tyler, leading a team, had quietly surrounded the place.
Tyler's intelligence indicated that Dullon was hiding here.
"Move!" At the command, several men burst through the door.
The house was empty and covered in dust, clearly uninhabited for a long time.
However, on an old wooden table in the corner, a coffee set was arranged with meticulous care.
Tyler approached and lightly touched the coffee pot with his finger.
"Still warm." His brow furrowed. "He left recently. Split up and pursue!"
Before he could finish speaking, a heavy smell of blood drifted faintly from somewhere nearby.
Nicholas's nose twitched, his expression changing. "Wait!"
Following the scent of blood, they found an inconspicuous entrance to a basement behind the estate.
The door was violently kicked open.
An even more intense, nauseating stench of blood hit them, nearly suffocating in its intensity.
The basement was dimly lit, with only a few weak rays of light filtering through a ventilation opening.
Tyler was the first to enter. After adjusting to the light, his gaze fixed on the center of the basement.
There, a mangled body hung suspended, covered in gruesome wounds, the blood already congealed into a dark red.
He approached for a closer examination.
"Dead!" His voice was low and grave.
Nicholas followed closely behind. Seeing the horrific scene before him, his pupils contracted sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Could this person be Dullon?
Tyler reached out and brushed aside the blood-matted hair hanging over the victim's face, revealing distorted features. He then checked the body's shoulder area.
There, a vicious black snake tattoo was barely visible through the torn flesh.
"It's him, Dullon." Tyler's voice was absolutely certain.
Nicholas's eyes deepened like an unfathomable icy pond.
Dullon was dead?
And killed in such a brutal manner. Who had captured him? And who had punished him this way?
Tyler stood up, surveying the crude yet blood-soaked basement.
"Judging by this method, whoever kidnapped him must have harbored extremely deep hatred. Could it be that woman we've been looking for?"
The woman who had been imprisoned and abused by Dullon as his mistress? Only that kind of bone-deep hatred could drive someone to use such inhumane torture.
Nicholas was silent for a moment before speaking, his voice cutting.
"Then we'll wait and watch."
He looked at Tyler. "Check the surveillance around here—see if any suspicious vehicles or people have appeared."
The two walked out together, the bloody stench still thick and inescapable in the air.
Time passed minute by minute.
About four hours later, as night deepened, two headlights suddenly appeared on the desolate road outside the abandoned estate.
A black SUV slowly approached and stopped outside the estate's gate.
Nicholas, who had been hidden in the shadows, fixed his sharp gaze on the vehicle.
The moment he clearly saw the license plate, his tall frame trembled uncontrollably.
That license plate was far too familiar!
The car door opened.
A foot in exquisite high heels emerged first, followed by a graceful figure stepping out.
Then, a strikingly beautiful yet coldly aloof face came clearly into his view.
It was Zoe!