The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1773

The question had nailed Bowie for his misdeeds. He gasped heavily in his seat, completely losing his composure. "I-I just heard about it…"

"I'm sure you wouldn't want me to inform your parents," Dalton refuted in a low, oppressive tone.

Ironically, Bowie dreaded nothing more than letting his parents down. He confessed in a shaky voice, "It's true. I just heard about it and decided to check it out."

His voice carried a hint of excitement as he rambled on, "I didn't expect him to actually pull it off. He's really awesome! That bitch had it coming. She looked down on me, and yet, she took her own life because of some random guy online.

"She was so vain and avaricious. She thought she had hooked up with a rich guy and spent so much money on him, only to get dumped."

At that point, Bowie's eyes lit up with a gleam of thrill. "Oh, but I'm not involved in her death. I just knew about it beforehand, and I wasn't the only one."

"The suspect is mentally unstable." An officer attempted to step in and interfere, but Wynter stopped him.

She stated coolly, "People with twisted minds are typically unstable. Let him talk."

The officer, unaware of Dalton's other identity, couldn't help expressing his worries. "Will Mr. Yarwood be alright in there? And what did Bowie mean when he said he wasn't the only one who knew about Stacey's death beforehand?"

His question was soon answered by Dalton, who was seated inside the interrogation room. "The organization will issue a death notice while keeping the lambs under control. Am I right?"

Bowie appeared almost maniacal. "That's right. You're so smart. You should join us. I'm sure the sage would be thrilled to have you on board."

Dalton gazed at him and asked, "Who is the sage?"

"He's an enigmatic figure. He knows everything about us and recognizes our uniqueness. Whenever I attend the holy prayer, I always feel enlightened. But Raccoon… He's too quick. I'm sure he'll attain the highest level soon, and the sage favors him, too.

"But that's okay. Once I kill a lamb, I'll earn the sage's recognition, too. By then, I'll have all the money and women I want." Bowie's tone was filled with admiration and longing.

He leaned forward and suggested fanatically, "I can tell you hate humans as much as we do. We're the gods' real messengers.

"We should kill those bitches and make them regret it—just like that one bitch who lives in my building. She looks at me like I'm some kind of threat, yet when the time comes, she'll be begging us to spare her."

Dalton responded with a soft hum and snapped his finger, an act that seemed to jolt Bowie back to reality.

Bowie was puzzled, having no recollection of standing up. But as the weight of his own confession hit him, his face turned pale. How had he blurted out all his dirty thoughts?

He stared at Dalton as though he was some kind of demon. Something was definitely wrong with him!

"Help! H-He's…" Bowie screamed. If he hadn't been cuffed to the chair, he would've tumbled to the ground in terror. He tried to shrink away, seemingly fearful of Dalton.

The officer frowned at the scene. "What's wrong with Bowie?"

"He's been hypnotized." Wynter offered a reasonable explanation.

The officer appeared shocked by her answer. "Hypnotized? If we use that, we could speed up the cases' resolution!"

After all, the suspect was bound to reveal anything under hypnosis.

However, Wynter knew that a simpler hypnosis wouldn't have had such an effect. It appeared that Dalton had brought out Bowie's darkest side in that split second. Still, she was displeased by something Bowie had said earlier.

Narrowing her eyes, Wynter walked into the interrogation room. She placed the laptop on the table before turning to Bowie. He had once been bold enough to peek at her but now was visibly shaking in fear.

"Before we begin the interrogation, there's something I need to clarify," Wynter stated with a cold gaze.

She pointed at Dalton and crushed Bowie's wrist with her other hand. "What made you think you're anything like him? You're lacking in every way—looks, physique, and even manners. You're nothing but disgusting."

Bowie tried to scream, but a glance from Dalton silenced him.

Wynter then turned the laptop around and continued, "I know what you're thinking. You think the police can't do much for a petty crime like stealing lingerie and that maybe you'll only be detained for a few days.

"But let me tell you, your search history and earlier confession confirm that you're tied to the suicide case. But that's not all. You seemed rather excited when you talked about the sage, and even mentioned doing something awful to your neighbor—that's more than enough to keep you here."

Bowie gritted his teeth, wincing in pain. "I'm not the murderer! E-Even if I wanted to, I haven't done anything yet. You can't charge me for that!"

Wynter smirked. "Who says we're charging you for murder? A psychopath like you is a threat to society. You deserve to rot in a mental hospital."

Bowie was taken aback and shouted, "I'm not going there! You only know about the online chats, but you don't have a clue how we actually meet or the website we use. I never used this laptop to log into that site! I go to cybercafés! I'll tell you everything!"

At that confession, Wynter and Dalton exchanged knowing glances. Obviously, their purpose had been to pressure Bowie for the details of how the criminals made contact all along. Though cases could take time to resolve, there was an urgent need to prevent the next murder.

Dalton had almost figured out the criminals' operation—it seemed that they always struck when they deemed a lamb ready. However, Wynter was more concerned about the death notice.

What had appeared to be a normal suicide now seemed like a calculated hunt. The hunters might have been ordinary citizens or those with aggressive tendencies. Under the law, no one would take the initiative to harm another.

Yet, the death notice acted as the spark that drove the reluctant individuals to commit murder.

As for the suicide victims, their resentments would feed the website. Perhaps there was something more at play, considering that Stacey's soul was nowhere to be found.

Clearly, someone had turned the website into an Earthbound Formation. But aside from trapping the souls of the dead, the formation ensnared those of the living as well. If the website remained running, anyone who stumbled upon it could fall under its influence and commit murder.

Wynter smirked. "The sage can foresee events, you say? That makes it sound like he's a grandmaster. Has Mr. Stavius reached that level yet?"

Her question was directed toward Dalton, who replied elegantly, "According to records, he will have to face a thunderstrike trial."

"That means he's yet to attain the grandmaster level. That said, you need to understand the reasoning and consequences before attempting any divination," Wynter stated calmly.

She shifted her attention back to Bowie. "You believe the sage has the power to know and foresee everything, but that's not the case. Instead, he gathers a web of information from your online activities.

"A simple analysis is enough to understand your behavior and weakness. And with AI calculations, the results are highly accurate."

Though Bowie appeared puzzled at Wynter's explanation, the officers understood her words and wore grim expressions.

If that was how online crimes were committed, it would be nearly impossible to track down the criminal. The internet was vast, and there was no way of knowing who the next victim might be.

Just then, Dalton tapped his finger on the table and reminded Wynter, "The account you logged into just lit up."

Wynter glanced at the screen and scanned the new message.

…

In Iwarim, Janielle slipped past the surveillance camera on her way home from the grocery store.

Back at home, she gazed at her sleeping daughter as a mix of emotions stirred within her. But when she recalled the scene in the alley, her heart shattered. Her hands tightly clutched a bottle and letter that Royston handed to her during the meeting.

"A great soul relinquishes all, unfettered by worldly matters," the letter wrote.

Janielle placed down the grocery basket and clenched her fists. She had once dreamt of a bright future until she met her husband, Malcolm. She fell deeply in love with him, and they had a daughter together.

Her father, Flynn Kamden, had pulled a few strings to help Malcolm land a job as a lecturer at Monway University. After all, being an educator promised a secure future.

However, Janielle never expected Malcolm to turn out to be so ungrateful. After Flynn helped him rise to the position of director, Malcolm revealed his true colors. Flynn collapsed in fury, coughing up blood before passing away.

The painful memories brought tears to Janielle's eyes. She looked up at the sky and vowed, "I was blind back then, but now I've opened my eyes. I'll make him pay a heavy price, Dad."

At that moment, the sound of keys turning in the lock echoed. Janielle turned around to see Malcolm stepping in, with a bright red kiss mark planted on his neck. Apparently, he was no longer bothering to hide his affair anymore.

The moment Malcolm spotted Janielle, his expression soured with impatience. "What are you standing there for? Why isn't dinner ready yet? I work my ass off every day to provide for this family, and yet I can't even enjoy a decent meal at home. How frustrating!"

Janielle flashed a smile, though it carried a dangerous edge. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. I'll get cooking right away. Why don't you freshen up? The food will be ready soon."