Chapter 4

Oliver slammed his fist onto the table, causing a deafening crash.

He was in a panic and gripped his phone tightly and snapped:

"Who died? Who's that speaking? This joke has gone way too far!"

The person on the other end seemed familiar with such situations; upon hearing Oliver's questioning, his tone still remained calm.

"Mr. Johnson, please calm down. I am Mr. Smith from the City Police Department.

An hour ago, we received a report about an unknown odor coming from a rental department.

When we arrived, we found the body of a young woman who had been dead for four days.

Based on the current information, we found that the deceased is your ex-wife, Charlotte.

Neighbors said Charlotte was with a four-year-old girl whose current whereabouts are unknown.

If you have any clues, please contact us immediately.

Also, if it's convenient for you, could you come over right away to give a statement?"

"Bang!" The phone fell to the ground.

Oliver's eyes were bloodshot as he stared blankly at the butler.

"Butler, did you hear that? What did he say?"

The butler's face was as grave as could be. He cautiously glanced at Oliver's expression and stammered:

"Mr. Johnson... Ms Charlotte is dead."

"Bang!"

Another loud noise, but this time it wasn't the phone—it was Oliver's fist.

He smashed it hard on the table, cutting off the butler's words:

"Look into this, check it right now. I need to know what the hell happened!"

The butler shrank back slightly, then hurried to take the order and left.

As he went out, he bumped into Susan, who had come to find out what was going on.

Susan was holding two glasses of wine, smiling softly:

"Butler, what's wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?"

This gentle and soft demeanor had always worked like a charm in the past.

Butler, in particular, had long regarded her as the mistress of this mansion ever since he found out about Oliver's feelings for her.

Even when my daughter and I were still living in the Mansion.

But when faced with Susan's question today, the butler didn't make any stop and left without the slightest hesitation.

The smile froze on Susan's face, tinged with a hint of awkwardness and annoyance.

But she soon suppressed her emotions, composed herself, and walked into Oliver's study.

"Oliver, what happened? I heard the commotion up here from downstairs. Can you tell me?"

Susan handed one glass of the wine to Oliver and asked in a soft and gentle voice.

But Oliver's thoughts were not on her.

He just put the wine on the table, and his heart felt painfully blocked.

I used to fill Susan's role.

Every night, when Oliver was troubled by work and forgot the time.

I would quietly walk into his study after putting my daughter to sleep, holding two glasses of wine.

Back then, he would always drink the wine while complaining to me about the company, business partners, the market…

And I would sit quietly on the sofa and listen carefully to him pour out all his troubles.

Back then, he always said: "Charlotte, you'll always be my best listener."

Later, Susan came back from abroad.

When I quietly listened to him as before, he started complaining:

"Charlotte, why are you always just a silent listener? You have no clue about my spiritual side."

The day I heard that, I stood on the balcony, letting the cold wind blow me all night.

Oliver's memories ended here.

He still hadn't pulled himself out of his grief and shock when Susan couldn't help speaking up:

"Oliver, what's wrong with you? Who are you thinking about?

Are you missing Charlotte?"

She smiled, a flash of coldness darting across her eyes.

"It's strange, isn't it? Why hasn't Charlotte shown up yet? Didn't she worry about Amelia?

Even if she's trying to use Amelia to compete for your affection, this is going too far…"

Oliver froze for a second, then immediately remembered what the butler had said—Amelia had passed out in the snow.

His heart jolted violently.