Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 210 I couldn’t believe what I was seeing Part3

The next day, after a morning filled with relentless work, I managed to wrap up almost a day’s worth of tasks.

I briefly informed my boss and, under the guise of gathering additional materials, I headed alone towards the suburban bungalow area, armed only with a camera.

Driving solo, I used my phone to match the houses in the video; the bungalow area was vast, a veritable labyrinth of alleys where I lost count of the circles I spun before finally locating the courtyard captured by the drone.

I parked my car and observed the quaint little courtyard from a distance.

This courtyard had a unique charm, exactly the type I admired, and it seemed to carry a rich history.

It wasn’t located in the congested heart of the bungalow area but on the periphery, standing alone.

The front faced the inner side of the area, and the backyard opened up to an endless plain.

The location was excellent, especially because of its style.

I glanced around; only a few scattered shops were nearby, creating a very quiet atmosphere, almost devoid of surveillance cameras or any detection devices.

It was indeed a serene environment.

Equipped with my press badge, sunglasses, and a face mask, I stepped out of the car with my camera.

I hoisted the camera on my shoulder, already planning my approach.

If Betty’s relatives or Betty herself answered the door, I could pretend it was a coincidental meeting during my work.

However, as I approached the ornate golden gate, I found it locked with an antique padlock and a heavy iron chain.

I was dumbfounded.

I had considered many scenarios, but the locked gate was not one of them; it clearly meant no one was home.

Feeling deflated, my curiosity and fighting spirit evaporated.

I turned to head back to my car, but just then, I noticed a group of elderly men and women playing cards under a large willow tree not far from the courtyard.

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I hesitated, unwilling to leave empty-handed after coming all this way.

I approached them.

The elders were down-to-earth and didn’t mind my interruption.

I struck up a conversation under the pretense of conducting an interview, discussing their old houses and delving into their long-forgotten stories.

As we talked, they began to open up, sharing tales that few young people nowadays would stop to listen to.

With their company, I began filming their old houses, one by one, strategically planning to end with the mysterious courtyard.

After more than an hour, with the elders still by my side, I had filmed every house but one.

Wiping sweat from my brow, I focused on the elusive courtyard as we approached its gate.

"Oh! Why is this house locked? Do we know who lives here? Can we take a look inside?" I feigned surprise, then turned to the gathering crowd of neighbors.

"We don’t know the current owners," one white-haired elder remarked.

"I only knew the original owners..."

"Oh? Tell me more," I urged, subtly activating my recorder as if conducting an interview.

"This courtyard has been here for over a hundred years, always owned by one family," he explained, stroking his beard.

"A month ago, the family moved abroad and sold it. It’s one of the nicest spots around here, fetched a high price too. The original owner didn’t want to sell; he preferred renting it out. But the buyer insisted, offered a lot of money, and the owner was tempted..."

As the elder spoke, I captured every word, the story of the courtyard unfolding like a hidden chapter of history, waiting to be told.

"Do you know the new owners of the house?" I asked, my voice tinged with anticipation as I finally broached the crucial question.

"Not really..." The group of elderly locals gently shook their heads in response.

"The house changed hands about a month ago, and we’ve rarely seen the new owner. Even on the rare occasions the gate isn’t locked, it remains firmly shut, and it’s rare to see anyone come out. Over the past month, we’ve only seen the owner a few times, always cloaked in hats, masks, and sunglasses, shrouded in mystery.

At first, I thought maybe they were using the house for some shady dealings, so much so that we even called the police. But after their investigation, it turned out we were overthinking it. The new owners are just a low-profile, law-abiding couple," another elderly lady added.

"Wait, did you say a couple?" I caught onto a crucial detail and blurted out my question.

"Yes, is there a problem?" The lady looked puzzled.

"Oh, no... no problem..." It wasn’t that I couldn’t keep my composure, but the thought struck me—if it really was Betty, then this couple... could they be married? Although it felt awkward to ask, I needed to know.

"It seems so! According to the previous owner, a man bought the house. He was all covered up with a hat, glasses, and a mask, as if he didn’t want to be seen. Despite his burly figure, the owner guessed from his voice that he was quite young.

Since buying the house, we’ve rarely seen the new owners, just occasionally a man and a woman, both dressed very conservatively, and they never appear together, always alone. The woman, too, is always well-covered, but you can tell from her figure that she’s definitely beautiful.

We don’t know why, but even when the door isn’t locked, they never come out to meet us, always keeping the door shut. That’s why we were so suspicious and called the police, but they didn’t find anything wrong. It’s still a mystery to us why they’re so secretive," one of the elders explained, his long speech accompanied by nods of agreement from the others, all wearing expressions of bewilderment.

"Thank you, everyone. I was intrigued by the vintage charm of this house, but it’s a shame we couldn’t meet the owners," I said, feigning disappointment.

In reality, I felt a genuine sense of loss because I had gleaned so little.

After bidding farewell to the elders, I drove back, filled with confusion.

If the information had been straightforward, like the owners being a young couple, I might have been reassured.

But the details I received only deepened the mystery.

The owners were young and enigmatic, almost as if they were hiding from something.

The door was always locked, they avoided contact with neighbors, and the police found nothing amiss during their visit.

The unclear videos only added to the confusion.

If time had allowed, I would have set up surveillance around the house to monitor every move in the courtyard.

Back at the office, with over an hour until the end of my shift, I sat motionless in my chair, pondering the afternoon’s discoveries.

I hypothesized that the woman of the house might indeed be Betty.

This assumption was plausible; Betty had the time since her job was undemanding, and she could easily visit the courtyard during her commute.

Moreover, Betty’s appearance was strikingly similar to the woman in the video.

She could have easily avoided me, returning home each evening without anyone suspecting her daytime activities.

If she was indeed the woman, then who was the man?

According to the neighbors, he was young.

I ran through all possible acquaintances in my mind, but none of Betty’s relatives fit the description.

The only possibility was Michael, but he had moved abroad and couldn’t be involved.

Not Michael, then who?

This afternoon’s exploration had not only failed to provide answers but had deepened the mystery even further.