Chapter 402

Nathaniel stared at the empty hallway where Harrison had vanished moments ago. Doubt prickled at his mind. Could the solution truly be this straightforward? Perhaps it was.

A shrill ringtone shattered the silence. His phone was buzzing urgently.

Nathaniel answered immediately. Victoria's panicked voice crackled through the receiver. "Mr. Falcon! Isabella collapsed—her heart condition flared up! They've taken her to Westfield General."

He ended the call without responding. His polished shoes clicked against marble as he strode toward the exit.

Harrison and Oliver stepped into the sterile laboratory. Harrison gathered her raven-black hair into a tight ponytail before slipping into a crisp white coat. "I'm analyzing my father's ashes immediately."

Oliver studied her with quiet intensity. "You've always questioned the circumstances of Benjamin's death. Do you believe the Whitmores were involved?"

Harrison's jaw tightened. "Absolutely."

"But Benjamin was raised as a Whitmore, wasn't he? Even vipers don't eat their own. Why would they—"

Harrison interrupted, her voice sharp. "Remember our earlier research? Margaret struggled with infertility for years after marriage. She tried countless treatments before finally conceiving Benjamin."

Oliver nodded slowly. "The medical records showed that. What's your theory?"

Harrison exhaled sharply. "I suspect Benjamin wasn't biologically theirs. He was likely adopted."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "That never occurred to me."

Harrison cradled the urn containing Benjamin's ashes. "Right now, it's just speculation. The DNA results will confirm everything."

Oliver gestured toward the equipment. "Proceed."

Hours blurred together as Harrison worked relentlessly. When moonlight replaced sunlight, two conclusive reports lay on the stainless steel table.

Oliver approached. "Find anything?"

Harrison's voice remained steady, but her knuckles whitened around the reports. "I was right. My father was poisoned. Murdered in cold blood." She tapped the second document. "The DNA test proves no biological relation to the Whitmores. He was adopted, just as I suspected."

The pieces clicked into place.

Oliver spoke carefully. "So Margaret adopted Benjamin, then later conceived Theodore and Frederick naturally. Fate dealt him a cruel hand." He hesitated. "Do you think one person orchestrated this, or was it a collective decision?"

Harrison's eyes darkened with lethal intent. The ceramic urn felt like ice against her palms. No matter how tightly she gripped it, the chill seeped into her bones. She couldn't fathom Benjamin's final moments—betrayed by the family he'd trusted.

Physical pain paled in comparison to the agony of treachery from those you loved most.

"I don't think the killer acted alone." Harrison's voice was sharp as steel. "Today, I studied every member of the Whitmore family—Margaret, Theodore, Victoria, Frederick, and Cassandra. Their faces were masks of guilt, each hiding dark secrets. I'm certain they conspired to poison my father together."

Oliver's expression twisted in horror. "These people are monsters—utterly heartless! So what's your next move?"

Harrison's icy gaze remained fixed on her father's photograph. Her fingers trembled with barely contained rage as she spoke through clenched teeth.

"I'll return their cruelty tenfold—no, a hundredfold. They'll suffer exactly as my father did, but worse. Much worse." A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes. "And they'll surrender every single thing they stole from him."