Chapter 147 Zela
Chapter 147 Zela
The villa returned to silence.
Isabelle retrieved a special chemical cleaning agent from the storage room and began cleaning the bloodstains in the foyer and basement.
This cleaning agent could completely destroy the DNA structure in blood, leaving no trace that even luminol reagent could detect.
At 4 AM, the bloodstains in the living room were finally cleaned up.
Isabelle tossed the mop into the bathroom and walked over to sit on the living room sofa.
She picked up the remote control and casually turned on the LCD TV on the wall, wanting some sound to fill the empty villa.
The TV was showing an extremely popular late-night talk show in North America.
On screen, the host wore an exaggerated sequined suit, walking around the stage with a microphone, using sharp humor to mock Wall Street capitalists while the audience below burst into laughter.
Isabelle leaned back on the sofa, initially just glancing at it carelessly.
But in the next second, her gaze suddenly froze.
The host on TV was reaching a climactic part of his routine.
He habitually raised his left hand and lightly brushed the knuckles of his index and middle fingers against the skin behind his left ear.
Then, his shoulder dropped imperceptibly by half an inch, and the corner of his mouth curved into an extremely mocking arc.
The movement was so subtle it was almost negligible amid the exaggerated stage performance.
But Isabelle's gaze instantly became sharp as a blade.
Disguise techniques.
Others might not notice, but as someone who had once fought alongside him, Isabelle knew that movement all too well.
It was the unconscious action used to confirm the position of the earpiece behind the ear before every assassination mission.
And that shoulder-dropping posture was muscle memory from years of carrying a sniper rifle.
Isabelle sat up straight, her dark eyes locked onto the completely unfamiliar white face on the screen.
This talk show host was no comedian at all.
That was Syndicate's former ace sniper, and her most familiar old acquaintance from her past life.
He had actually disguised himself and infiltrated under the spotlight in Washington.
Isabelle's red lips parted slightly as she stared at the screen, silently mouthing a name.
Zela, one of Syndicate's core organization members, a former ace sniper.
She never expected he would disguise himself as a talk show host named Alfie Kalyn and hide out in Washington.
Isabelle turned off the TV, grabbed her tablet, and her fingers flew across the screen.
She directly hacked into the internal network and pulled up all of Alfie's public and hidden information.
The records showed that Alfie had been frequently active in North America and Washington in recent years. Besides his identity as a talk show host, his most famous label was "philanthropist."
He had established multiple charity foundations under his name, frequently attended high-level charity galas, and funded the construction of dozens of orphanages.
"Doing charity?" Isabelle looked at the heartwarming photos on the screen of Alfie holding orphanage children, and a cold, mocking smile curved at her lips.
A top-tier sniper with blood-soaked hands who killed without blinking was doing charity? Ridiculous.
Isabelle knew Zela too well. This bloodthirsty wolf couldn't possibly have truly gone straight.
His use of the philanthropist identity must be to cover up some shady money flow, or to more conveniently access prey from both political and business circles.
He definitely hadn't left Syndicate.
Isabelle continued digging and soon found useful information.
In a few days, Alfie would host a large-scale charity auction at the Park Hyatt in Washington.
Washington's elite and powerful would all attend.
A cold gleam flashed in Isabelle's eyes. Since the prey had voluntarily surfaced, she had no reason not to close the net.
She decided to take the initiative.
Three days later, Park Hyatt top floor ballroom.
This charity auction was extremely high-level with tight security.
The invited guests were either wealthy or noble—men in suits, women dripping with jewels. The entire venue was filled with elegant figures and extreme luxury.
At 7 PM, an ordinary taxi stopped in front of the hotel.
Isabelle pushed open the car door and stepped out.
She wore a simple black windbreaker today with a white T-shirt underneath, paired with fitted black cargo pants and tactical boots.
Her high ponytail was neatly tied back, her face bare of makeup. Her cool, detached aura seemed completely out of place in the crowd.
As soon as she walked to the red carpet at the ballroom entrance, gazes instantly converged on her.
Among the haute couture gowns and expensive jewelry filling the hall, Isabelle's outfit was so plain it was almost shabby.
Several socialites in gorgeous designer dresses gathered together, pointing at her with eyes full of disdain.
"Who is that person? How dare she come to Park Hyatt dressed like that?"
"Probably wandered onto the wrong set. This is a top-tier auction hosted by Mr. Kalyn. How did security let just anyone in?"
Isabelle ignored the surrounding gossip, one hand in her pocket, expression calm as she walked toward the entrance.
"Well, well, who do we have here, dressed like a delivery person."
A sharp, grating voice came from behind and to the side.
Isabelle didn't stop walking or even lift an eyelid.
Lila wore an extremely flashy deep-V red gown, strutting on sky-high heels, arm linked with a middle-aged man as she walked over.
Since the naked run on the field and losing two hundred million dollars last time, Lila had become the laughingstock of all Washington, hiding at home for half a month without daring to show her face.
Today she finally emerged at this charity gala, only to run into the person she hated most in this lifetime right at the entrance.
"Isabelle, you really don't know your place." Lila glared at her through gritted teeth, old and new grudges surging up and making her lose all reason. "Do you think you know where this is? This is Washington's most elite charity auction! A poor trash like you from the countryside can't even cross the threshold. Get lost!"
Isabelle stopped and turned her head slightly.
Her cool gaze fell on Lila's face, twisted with jealousy, as if looking at a clown.
"Lila! Shut up!"
Before Isabelle could speak, the middle-aged man beside Lila suddenly roared, his face instantly turning deathly pale.
Conleth Bonello had been chatting with business moguls nearby and hadn't noticed what was happening here.
When he turned around and saw who Lila was provoking, he was nearly scared into cardiac arrest.
This was Isabelle!
The terrifying existence who could make Wall Street mogul Caius bow his head, who could completely paralyze the Bonello family's North American capital chain with one sentence!
Conleth immediately shook off Lila's hand and hissed in panic, "You ignorant fool! Apologize to Miss Morgan right now!"
Lila was caught completely off guard, her face full of disbelief. "Dad! Are you crazy? She hurt me so badly, and you want me to apologize to her? She's just a—"
"Slap!"