Chapter 132

Chapter 132
Three months after "Harmony Health" dissolved, "Harmony Clinic" hung a new sign on Maplewood Avenue in the South District. One word changed, one address changed, a new name on the business license—but the scope of operations copied almost exactly.

Evelyn sat in a folding chair at the safe house, staring at her phone screen. The business registration screenshots Cedric's people had sent showed the clinic's information: Ray, fifty-three years old, medical degree, formerly employed at a South District community health center. Resigned fifteen years ago. No public practice record after that—

Until seven years ago, when this clinic appeared in the system.

"Where was he during those eight years?"

"Can't find out." Cedric's finger tapped the table once. "But according to employee rosters leaked during Ashford Group's bankruptcy liquidation, there was someone named 'Roy' who worked at a health management center affiliated with the Ashford family. Age and background are a near-perfect match."

Evelyn's nail scraped silently across the back of her phone case.

One letter difference... just like "Harmony Health" becoming "Harmony Clinic," just like "Lillie Brooks" replacing "Lillie Hawk."

These people lived in the cracks between single letters and single words, thinking a name change could wash their past clean.

"Tomorrow. We go tomorrow," Evelyn said.

Cedric moved in front of her and crouched down, elbows on his knees, face level with hers. From this angle, Evelyn could see the bloodshot veins in his eyes. He hadn't slept well last night either.

"Felix is coming to Parker Group the day after tomorrow." He looked into her eyes, his voice measured. "If Ray and Felix are connected, going to the clinic now might tip them off."

Evelyn thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Felix gave this information to Sebastian. His original plan was for Sebastian to trade it for the evidence I have. But Sebastian didn't cooperate—he gave me the note directly. That means—"

"Felix doesn't know you already have the address." Cedric finished her thought.

"Right. He thinks after Sebastian refused, the information died. He won't warn Ray to move preemptively."

Cedric was silent for two seconds, his gaze lingering on her face. He was weighing her state. Finally, he stood. "I'm coming with you."

This time Evelyn didn't refuse. She just nodded.

---

The next morning at ten, they arrived on Maplewood Avenue in the South District.

Maple trees decades old lined both sides of the street, their branches interlacing overhead like an archway. Deep autumn had turned the leaves gold and crimson, carpeting the sidewalk in a thick layer. Each step produced a crisp rustling sound, like yellowed pages of old letters crumbling softly underfoot.

Harmony Clinic was midway down the block, squeezed between a laundromat and a corner store.

The storefront was small. The sign was dark green with gold lettering—"Harmony Clinic" written plainly, no embellishments.

The glass door stood half-open. Inside, a shabby reception desk and a few plastic chairs were visible. Two yellowed acupuncture charts hung on the wall. The air carried a mingled scent of mugwort and alcohol.

Evelyn pushed the door open. A bell chimed.

A middle-aged woman sat behind the reception desk, head down, looking at her phone. She glanced up at the sound and quickly plastered on a professional smile. "Appointment or walk-in?"

"I'm here for Ray," Evelyn said.

The woman's smile didn't falter. "Ray's doing acupuncture in the back. Should be about ten more minutes. Please have a seat."

Evelyn sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

Cedric stood by the door, one hand in his coat pocket, face turned toward the street outside.

He deliberately muted his presence, leaning against the wall like an ordinary companion waiting for someone.

But his gaze swept once through the interior of the clinic.

Twelve minutes later, the curtain to the inner room parted.

A man in his early fifties stepped out. He wore a white coat, his hair half-gray, face gaunt. Gold-rimmed glasses. Long fingers with joints paler than most—hands that had never done rough work.

His gaze landed on Evelyn and lingered for a moment. Something shifted in his eyes, then quickly smoothed over.

"Hello. Are you here for an appointment?" Ray's voice was calm. Behind his glasses, his eyes revealed nothing unusual.

Evelyn stood.

"Ray, I'm not here as a patient." Her voice was low, her pace slower than usual, every word enunciated clearly. "My name is Evelyn Kendall."

"Ms. Kendall," Ray adjusted his glasses. The corners of his mouth maintained a polite curve. "How can I help you?"

Evelyn pulled out her phone and opened a photo—a screenshot of a purchase record exported from Paxton's USB drive. Purchaser: Upton. Beside the medication name was a notation: "chronic poison."

She turned the phone screen toward Ray. "Did you formulate this medication?"

The moment Evelyn's words fell, the clinic went silent.

The woman behind the reception desk looked up, confused.

The water cooler burbled. In the quiet, the sound was jarringly loud.

Ray stared at the screen. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his pupils slowly contracted.

After a long moment, he let out a resigned sigh. His lips moved. "You should come inside."

He turned and pushed through the curtain, disappearing into the back.

Evelyn glanced at Cedric.

Cedric straightened from the wall and gave her a slight nod. Then he addressed the woman at the reception desk. "Please step outside for a bit."

His tone left no room for argument. The woman, intimidated by his presence, grabbed her phone and hurried out.

Cedric followed Evelyn into the inner room.

The back room was about a hundred square feet—a narrow bed, a medicine cabinet, a sink in the corner.

Behind the glass doors of the cabinet, about a hundred small drawers were neatly arranged, each labeled with handwritten names of herbs.

Ray stood in front of the cabinet, his back to them.

Maybe it was Evelyn's imagination, but his shoulders seemed slightly slumped now.