Augustine t her gaze. "The test results haven’t co in yet," he said, his tone calm, yet serious. "But Patricia is still denying any involvent. She said she didn’t poison the cupcakes and even refused to believe Lorie could have done such a thing. In fact, she is now accusing Audrey, claiming she must have eaten sothing else that caused the food poisoning."
"That’s nonsense," she muttered with frustration. "Audrey was perfectly fine when she ca to the restaurant. We hadn’t even placed our order yet. The only thing she ate before falling sick was the cupcakes. The doctor confird it, too. Why is Patricia still lying?"
"She won’t be able to hide forever. Once the test results co in, the truth will be out. Her denials won’t matter then."
Anne let out a breath, her tension easing a bit. She trusted him. He wouldn’t rest until the real culprit was exposed. Quietly, she leaned her head back onto his chest and whispered, "Thank you."
"It’s late. Get so sleep."
They lay down side by side, wrapped in quiet warmth. Augustine’s arm slipped around her protectively, and slowly, the sleep overca them both.
But peace didn’t last long.
The sharp buzz of his phone cut through the silence of the room, vibrating insistently on the nightstand. Augustine stirred, blinking against the glow of the screen.
Gustave’s na flashed in bold letters, and a prickle of alertness crept through him.
Carefully, he slipped out from under the covers, padded across the room, and picked up the phone. He stepped into the hallway before answering.
"Hello?"
"Sir," Gustave said quickly on the other end, "I just finished reviewing the surveillance footage from the area. There is sothing you need to see. A suspicious figure showed up near Robert’s house that evening. I’ve already sent the video to your email. Please check it."
"Wait a mont." Augustine’s sleep vanished instantly.
He made his way swiftly to the study, switched on the laptop, and opened Gustave’s email, which had just landed in his inbox minutes ago. With a few quick clicks, he pulled up the footage and pressed play.
"Have you seen it?" Gustave’s voice crackled through the phone.
The video showed a dimly lit alley and a tall figure moving through the shadows. The person wore a loose, oversized hooded sweater that swallowed most of his fra. The hood was pulled up to conceal his face. The cara angle, obstructed by the poor lighting, made it impossible to identify the man clearly.
"There is a man in a hooded sweater," Augustine said. "In a narrow street."
"That’s the street leading to Robert’s house," Gustave confird. "He was caught on cara just minutes before the estimated ti of Robert and Lorie’s deaths. Keep watching. He leaves in a hurry."
Augustine scrubbed through the footage slowly. "There is no footage of him entering the house," he pointed out, scrutinizing every fra. "He could be a random passerby."
"That cara was fixed at the mouth of the alley," Gustave replied. "It doesn’t show the house itself, only the street. But here is why I’m suspicious. He was at the hospital as well."
Augustine’s brow furrowed. "Hospital?"
"Yes. Check the second video I attached."
Without another word, Augustine opened the next file, his unease deepening.
The grainy video showed the hospital parking lot at night with a few scattered vehicles. Then, from the side entrance, a tall figure erged, cloaked in the sa oversized hooded sweater. The person moved swiftly, glancing around before slipping into the passenger seat of a parked van.
Augustine froze the fra, zooming in on the vehicle. He tried to catch the number plate, but the cara angle and low resolution rendered it unreadable.
"He was in the hospital all along," Gustave said grimly, his voice cutting into Augustine’s concentration. "We tracked his movents through the internal surveillance. He was near the ergency wing, the VIP ward, loitering outside Madam Anne’s room. He was watching everyone. Monitoring us. It’s unsettling how easily he blended in. None of the guards raised an alarm. Maybe they thought he looked harmless."
Augustine continued skimming through the footage. The man’s movents were calculated, deliberate, never lingering too long in one spot, always just outside the cara’s main focus. Not a single fra captured his face.
It was clear—he knew exactly where the caras were and how to avoid being clearly seen.
"He left the hospital just minutes after the doctor announced Miss Audrey was out of danger," Gustave added, his tone dropping. "And shortly after that, he was caught on the alley cam, right near Robert’s house. That timing isn’t a coincidence."
Augustine’s thoughts raced. The pattern, the movents, the timing—everything pointed to this man being the third person who had been present at the scene of Robert and Lorie’s deaths.
"I’m sure he is connected to gan," Gustave said. "No doubt in my mind."
"Track him down," Augustine instructed. "Trace the van. Pull gan’s call records, financials, contacts—everything. I want that man found, Gustave. Do whatever it takes. Just find him."
"Yes, sir. We’re on it," ca the prompt response.
Augustine’s eyes stayed fixed on the paused fra. The faceless figure on the screen stirred a storm within him. He had assured Lucien he would get to the bottom of this. If he failed, he wouldn’t be able to face him. That thought alone twisted in his gut like a blade.
"Don’t disappoint this ti, Gustave." His voice dropped, cold and razor-sharp. "Because unsolved things are piling up and I don’t like it."
"I won’t disappoint you on this case. You have my word."
~~~~~~~~~~
The following morning arrived in a blur of motion. Augustine and Anne reached the office as usual, diving straight into work. The pace was brisk—etings lined up, calls to return, and reports to finalize. Amid the chaos, Anne remained composed, focused, and efficient.
She handed Augustine a file. "Everything about today’s eting is here. I included the financial summary and board updates. Please go through it once."
But instead of opening the file, Augustine gave a slow, amused smile. "Co here."
Anne paused, arching a brow. She glanced toward the office door, then smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She strode toward him and perched on his lap, looping her arms around his neck.
"I’ve been wanting to do this all morning," she whispered playfully, brushing a kiss on his lips.
She started to pull away, but Augustine caught the back of her head and drew her in again, his kiss far deeper, hungry and possessive. Anne tensed, her eyes fluttering shut as her protest dissolved. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she kissed him back with growing heat.
Knock. Knock.
The sound snapped through the air, and a second later the door creaked open.
"Sir, the test results are out—" Gustave stepped in but halted abruptly at the sight of Anne nestled in Augustine’s lap.
Anne scrambled to rise, flustered and mortified, her gaze fixed on the floor. But before she could escape, Augustine reached out and clasped her wrist firmly.
"Stay here," he said calmly, not at all embarrassed.
Then, shifting his attention to Gustave, he asked coolly, "What do the test results say?"
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