Chapter 107

Chapter 107

Richard turned his head to look at Catherine, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and encouragement. "Hey, if you need help, just ask. I can't just stand by when my wife needs to vent."

Catherine was completely taken aback.

Not only did he not accuse her of any potential "scheming," but he also brought up Amara himself, even showing a supportive attitude towards her revenge. Why?

This was not the Richard she had expected.

Shouldn't he be guarding against her like a hawk, always wary of her using his wife's status for something?

Seeing the indulgence and interest in Richard's eyes, which didn't seem fake, Catherine felt a ripple in her heart. A strange emotion quietly grew, leaving her somewhat at a loss.

She steadied herself, lowered her gaze to hide the complex emotions in her eyes, and spoke with a tone that still maintained a sense of distance, though softer than before. "I'll handle my own matters, Mr. Smith. No need to trouble yourself."

"Alright." Richard didn't push it, just nodded and stood up. "Get some rest."

He gave her a deep look, his eyes seemingly containing many things, yet he said nothing and turned to leave the bedroom.

The door closed softly, cutting off his presence.

Catherine sat on the bed, hugging the blanket, motionless for a long time. The moonlight outside the window shone in, reflecting the complex and indistinguishable expression on her face.

Richard... what exactly is he trying to do?

This sudden gentleness and indulgence were more unsettling than his previous strong probing.

Richard's sharp gaze locked onto Catherine, as if trying to find some flaw in her calm face. "No signal in the mountains, pitch black surroundings, wolves everywhere. You just... got out unscathed by luck?"

His tone was flat but carried an undeniable scrutiny.

Catherine seemed not to understand the deeper meaning in his words, her eyes maintaining a perfect level of innocence, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes. "Lucky, I guess. Maybe they... didn't see me?"

Richard's mouth twitched slightly.

Didn't see her? Did she think wolves were blind? He was about to press further when his private phone rang urgently, interrupting him.

He glanced at the caller ID—it was Oscar, responsible for Solstice intelligence. His brows furrowed slightly as he answered the call, his voice instantly deepening. "Speak."

The person on the other end spoke rapidly, and Catherine only caught fragments like "the Carr Group," "infighting," "power struggle," and "postpone."

Richard's expression didn't change, but his eyes grew deeper, his knuckles tapping silently on the table.

"Got it. Proceed as planned and keep a close watch on the Carr family's movements." Richard hung up the phone, his fingers pausing on the smooth screen.

The Carr Group's internal conflict in Solstice was happening faster and more violently than expected. His plan to use this opportunity to delve into Solstice would have to be temporarily shelved. Now was not the best time for him to step in.

His gaze returned to Catherine, the interrupted doubts still lingering, now heightened by the changing situation in Solstice.

"Wolf Fang Whistle..." he muttered to himself, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his chin.

The clues from his parents' car accident pointed vaguely to Solstice, and the most mysterious force in Solstice was rumored to be related to some kind of animal taming ability.

According to legend, there was a whistle made from a wolf's fang that could command packs of animals, a key to unlocking certain mysteries. To find the whistle, he first had to find the mysterious girl who possessed it seven years ago.

He closed his eyes, a blurry image surfacing in his mind—a rainy night seven years ago, an abandoned warehouse, a little girl curled up in a corner, clutching something tightly, her eyes defiant yet terrified.

He had been trapped at the time and unable to help, leaving only a hasty promise: "Wait for me. I'll come back for you."

But he had failed to keep that promise. When he finally escaped and went back to find her, the warehouse was empty, leaving only dried bloodstains and... a peculiar button.

For seven years, this guilt and obsession had wrapped around his heart like vines. Finding her was not just about the promise but also about the clues she might hold regarding the animal taming ability and the wolf fang whistle.

"Patriarch's Decree needs to be activated." Richard made a decision. The Patriarch's Decree was the highest command of the Smith family's secret intelligence network. It was rarely used, and when activated, it meant sparing no expense. To find that girl and obtain the wolf fang whistle, he couldn't afford to wait any longer.

He looked at Catherine, deep in thought. This woman was full of mysteries, and she seemed to have an extraordinary affinity with animals, perhaps even a form of control? Could there be a potential connection to the clues he was seeking?

"By the way," Catherine suddenly remembered something, interrupting his thoughts. Her tone was light as if discussing something trivial. "Amara has gone mad."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Mad?"

"Yeah," Catherine nodded, a sly smile playing on her lips, her clear eyes flashing with a sharpness that was far from innocent. "Scared mad."

Richard was speechless, waiting for her to continue.

Catherine took a small voice recorder from her bag, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards him. "That night, I 'visited' her. Wore a ghost mask and mimicked her nightmare screams."

She spoke casually, as if it were just a mischievous prank.

"It worked pretty well," Catherine added.

"She probably thought Clara's ghost had come for revenge, scared out of her wits, and confessed everything about how she and Clara conspired to push my mom off the cliff, but Clara fell instead."

She paused, looking at the voice recorder. "The evidence is all here. Though a madwoman's testimony might not directly convict, it's enough to make some people lose sleep."

Richard picked up the voice recorder, weighing it in his hand. He could imagine Catherine wearing a ghost mask, silently appearing at Amara's bedside, probably scarier than a real ghost. Catherine's methods were always unexpected yet precise and effective.

"Well done." He rarely praised, putting the voice recorder away. "I'll have someone continue to follow Clara's lead. As for Ms. Scott..."

He looked at Catherine, his gaze steady and serious. "I'll use my connections to help you find her. Whether she's alive or dead, there must be an answer."