The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 176 No Biological Tie To Old Master

Tristan walked into the study, pulled out a yellowing file folder from the cabinet, and sank into the leather chair.

He’d flipped through this confidential file countless times. There weren’t many clues left from the Richmond family massacre—it had been too clean.

As he stared at the autopsy reports and the grisly crime scene photos, something suddenly clicked in his mind. Maddox Rowland had once mentioned that the man in the mask had a red mole on his wrist.

He quickly found the photo of the baby’s corpse. No red mole on the wrist.

Which meant... Did Karl really belong to the Richmond family? Or was that baby just a decoy? All he needed was someone solid who knew what the real Porter Richmond looked like.

He grabbed his phone and called Ryan Mitchell. "How many cops were suspended for the Richmond case back then?"

Ryan was clearly puzzled. "Mr. Reid, why are you getting involved with this now?"

Tristan let out a short laugh. "Because at least when I dig, I don’t sneak around. It’s been months and you’re still at square one."

"You doubting the force now?"

"Doubt? I don’t need to. The facts are plain as day. If I remember right, your old mentor got suspended for this case too."

Ryan gave a vague hum. "Yeah, but I can’t reach him at all lately. It’s like he vanished into thin air."

Tristan lightly pinched the photo of Mr. Ronald Richmond’s body. The face was completely unrecognizable; the corpse had been badly decomposed.

He murmured to himself, "Maybe Mr. Ronald Richmond or the baby lived through it. Or maybe just one did."

With that, he hung up.

Then he dialed Cameron. "Track down Ryan’s mentor, Lucas Lane. Once you find him, bring him to me."

Tristan hadn’t told Ryan where Karl’s base was, and in a way, that was his way of paying him back—for bringing Megan back to life.

By the time the moon sat high in the sky, Tristan returned to the bedroom. The girl on the bed was already fast asleep.

He slipped under the covers, gently pulled her into his arms.

Just thinking about sending her to the Lewis estate in three days made his chest feel tight.

Sensing his warmth, Megan stirred and rolled over, burying her face in his chest with a soft little nuzzle.

He started lightly patting her back, coaxing her into an even deeper sleep.

In a dimly lit room elsewhere, Keith was carefully dabbing ointment onto Karl’s wounds, one hand holding the jar, the other a cotton swab.

The bleeding had stopped, but the injuries were rough—deep gashes that stung like hell with every touch of the cream.

Karl, however, didn’t even flinch. Not a twitch.

He was too focused on the DNA report in his hand. Those five bold words: "No biological relation." They felt like a joke.

His fingers curled slowly around the paper until it crumpled completely in his palm.

Keith sighed. "Boss, with no biological tie to Old Master, if you really are the Richmond heir, maybe he trained you to take revenge. Or... maybe he planned to use you all along."

Karl sneered, "Or I’m no Richmond at all, and he is. Or hell, neither of us are. Maybe he just took advantage of the fact that my body reacts to the drugs he needed. Either way, he used me. Lied to me."

Keith shook his head. "Boss, don’t let it eat you up inside."

"Eat me up inside?" Karl’s eyes darkened, voice low and cold. "Only she had that power over me. No one else matters. Whatever Grandpa was after, I’ve already paid back everything he gave me. As for how I’ll treat him... that depends on what the truth turns out to be."

It was winter morning, sky still dim.

When Megan opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was his sleeping face—every line familiar and dearly missed.

His long lashes, sharp nose, defined features—each one she’d memorized a thousand times when she’d been locked away by Karl, clinging to his image like it was the only thing keeping her sane. She was terrified she’d forget what he looked like.

She reached out, her fingers brushing gently along his cheek, tracing the man she loved.

Suddenly, her hand was caught. Tristan brought her fingers to his lips for a kiss. "It’s not even light out yet. Why’re you up so early?"

"Because I missed you," Megan whispered. "I really don’t want to go back to the Shaw estate."

He rested his chin lightly on her forehead. "Be good. Just hang in there a bit longer. Once this is over, I’ll bring you home."

Megan looked up, eyes soft. "Babe, you’re going to see Karl, aren’t you?"

Tristan gave a short hum. "Stay cozy here at the manor. I won’t be gone long."

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Then lie with me a little longer."

By the time Megan woke again, the bed beside her was already empty. A folded note lay on the pillow.

The handwriting was bold and neat: Snow’s falling outside. Wait for me, we’ll build a snowman together.

She smiled to herself. Yeah—this was the life she wanted. Simple. Peaceful.

Pulling the covers aside, she got out of bed and walked to the window. Outside, snowflakes danced down from the sky, blanketing the entire estate in white.

She stepped back to the nightstand, grabbed her phone, and dialed his number. "Babe, what are you up to?"

Tristan glanced out of the car window at snowdrifts passing by. "Looking at the snow, just like you."

She knew he wasn’t telling her where he really was—didn’t want her to worry, probably.

She laughed gently. "Then don’t be late coming back. I’m waiting for our snowman."

"Promise."

As soon as the call ended, the warmth in Tristan’s face vanished. "Step on it."

The car pulled up in front of an old apartment building. Cameron got out first and opened the back door.

Tristan adjusted his coat, stepped down, and walked straight into the building. Cameron followed behind, carrying supplements and a folder full of documents.

They made their way to the fourth floor. Cameron knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came an elderly voice from inside.

"We’re friends of Ryan Mitchell. Just here to say hello."

The door creaked open just a crack. An older man peeked out, studying the faces in front of him.

"I’ve seen you before... magazines and on TV," he said slowly. "You’re Tristan Reid."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lane," Tristan said.

Lucas Lane opened the door wider, stepping aside to let them in.

"Have a seat. You want tea or water?"

Tristan sat down on the couch, shaking his head. "That’s alright. I’m here on behalf of Captain Mitchell. Also wanted to ask you something."

The old man let out a chuckle as he sat. "I’ve been hiding here for years. No one even knows where I live—not even Ryan. You coming here... you’re not just paying a casual visit, are you?"

Tristan gave a small laugh and nodded at Cameron.

Cameron placed a sleek gift box on the table—vintage scotch, silk ties, engraved cufflinks, and a luxury fountain pen.

"A little something from Mr. Reid."

The old man reached out. "Let me see the file."

Cameron froze for a beat—caught off guard by the old man’s directness—then handed it over with both hands.

Lucas opened the file. As he skimmed through the pages, his pupils constricted slightly. He looked up at Tristan.

"You’re digging into the Richmond family case?"