The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 215 The Thread That Unravels Everything

Chapter 215: Chapter 215 The Thread That Unravels Everything

Three men in long black coats walked in, each carrying a funeral wreath.

"Someone hired us to bring these," one of them said flatly.

Tristan Reid’s face turned dark like a storm. "Who sent you?"

The man shrugged. "No idea. Got paid, did the job, that’s it."

Kevin Ward read the writing on the wreaths:

“Good riddance, couldn’t be better!

Useless in life, pathetic in death!

May they rot forever!”

He marched up and grabbed the speaker by the collar. "You even know whose funeral this is?"

The man smirked, clearly unfazed. "Look, we just deliver stuff. Don’t care whose it is.”

"Oh, you’ve got a death wish." Kevin let go and shot a glance at the bodyguards. “Show our guests some proper hospitality. Maybe the cremation chamber will help them remember who signed the job.”

Six bodyguards stepped forward, two for each man, and dragged them out as cries of pain echoed back.

One of the guards leaned in to whisper to Kevin. “They really don’t know anything. Just a bunch of paid street thugs.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “Check the security footage, follow the money—everything. I don’t buy that there’s no lead.”

Tristan waved his hand. “Keep the wreaths. We’ll return the favor.”

Then he turned to the master of ceremonies. “Let’s keep going.”

After the last goodbye, Bernard Shaw’s body was taken away.

Back at the car, Megan Shaw leaned against Stella Banks as they sat down.

“Xiao Xi, you and your grandpa had your share of fate. He might’ve been wrong, but he did treat you alright. You never held it against him. He’d rest easy knowing that.”

Megan nodded. “I know, Mom. Honestly, if Grandpa hadn’t switched me back or if Wendy Ford’s parents hadn’t messed up, I might’ve been dead long ago.”

She patted Samuel Lewis on the shoulder. “Fourth Bro, can I borrow your laptop?”

Samuel handed it over from the passenger seat. “Trying to track down who sent those wreaths?”

“Yep. I mean, this kind of drama doesn’t show up every day—there’s gotta be a thread to pull.”

Samuel took the laptop back to his lap. “Let your fourth brother handle it. You take a break.”

Stella agreed, “He’s the pro here, after all.”

That made Samuel wince a bit. Yeah, sure, he had skills—but the real tech genius was the person sitting right behind him.

Based on the thugs’ statements, they never saw the person who hired them—just got a call, and now the number’s dead.

So, only way forward: trace the payment.

Trouble was, the money went through a shell account—laundered through unrelated accounts before landing in the real recipient’s hands.

Samuel scratched his head. “We’re dealing with someone clever—no gaps to follow.”

Megan’s eyes narrowed. “Pull up CCTV near the funeral home. A show that big? Someone’s gotta be watching. Track anyone acting shady. From there, we pull the thread.”

She leaned against Stella’s shoulder, eyes half-closed—waking up early was catching up with her.

“We’ve got two potential suspects,” Samuel said.

Megan gave a quiet “Mm.”

“Dig into their movements, IDs, background. Let’s see who they’re tied to.”

Stella gently stroked Megan’s hair. “Our Xiao Xi is seriously clever—way sharper than your fourth brother.”

Samuel pouted. “Mom, come on. You roast your own son like this? Not fair at all!"“It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of sons, but she’s my only daughter. Well, plus little Emily, I guess.”

Samuel Lewis had complaints bottled up, but he didn’t dare say them out loud—he knew his place.

Half an hour later, he spun around, visibly excited. “Megan, we got a lead. There’s one common connection in their networks—James Evans, the CEO of Ocean Biotech.”

Megan Shaw’s mind flashed back to the virulent compounds from the night before. Biotech—it all added up.

“Sam, hack into James Evans’ phone. Keep tabs on his communications round-the-clock. Also, I want eyes on him—get full surveillance coverage.”

Samuel gave a nod. “On it. Though... if we could plant a tracker or bug on his phone instead, we’d save a lot of trouble. Any way to pull that off?”

Megan shook her head. “Not happening. With everything going on, he’s definitely guarding that phone like his life depends on it. Thanks for doing this.”

Samuel smirked. “Whatever you say is gospel at this point.”

After the funeral wrapped up, the group headed to the cemetery.

Standing in front of Bernard Shaw’s grave, Megan let out a sigh. “Your old grave was just for show. But this one... this is real. Grandpa, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. That’s something I’ll always regret deeply. I never blamed you. Never. I just hope you’re at peace now. And I swear, I won’t let this go unpunished.”

She talked to Diane Hartwell for a while longer before leaving quietly.

The Shaw family had always been her warmth—now, it was also her sorrow.

Later, Megan and Tristan Reid visited the hospital to check on Karl Freeman, who was still unconscious.

Brandon Lewis adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and said, “Good thing the king parasite in his system is holding things down. Otherwise, he’d be just like Keith Martin. That guy flips between lucidity and full-on madness. My team ran some blood tests—it’s some kind of virus that feeds on human consciousness. It can be in liquid form or airborne. The severity depends on exposure levels.”

Tristan glanced toward the isolation room, where Keith was strapped down and motionless. “Chances of recovery?”

“Right now, about 30%.”

“Not even half... If this virus gets out, it won’t just affect this country—it’ll be a global disaster.”

Tristan exhaled sharply through his nose. “We’ve got suspicions about James Evans. If anything concrete pops up, you’ll be the first to know.”

Brandon nodded. “If his research team’s data overlaps with this, then he’s definitely tied to it.”

“Agreed,” Tristan said. “We’re hitting his lab tonight to snatch the data.”

“There’s usually two sets of files—one real, one fake.”

Brandon gave Megan a knowing look. “Got something sneaky planned, sis?”

Megan just grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The moon hung cold in the sky. Tires crunched over the snow.

From the driver’s mirror, the man looked at his boss with closed eyes. “Heading back to the lab, Mr. Evans?”

“No. Home.”

Five minutes later, James Evans got a call. “Talk.”

“The lab files have been stolen!”

His bulky frame jolted. “What?!”

“Drive! Take me home—now!”

The car pulled up to a secluded mansion. James threw open the door, rushing inside.

“Honey, you’re back.”

He brushed past the woman as if she wasn’t there, taking the stairs two at a time. In no time, he was inside the study, standing in front of a safe.