Reborn in the Enemy's Embrace - Chapter 172

Chapter 172: CHAPTER 172 Chapter 172: CHAPTER 172 “They were a gift… from you.” Dexter touched the bottom€“right corner of the specimen display.

It showed a black signature that said ‘SC the acronym for Sophia Milford.

I looked at Dexter in shock and felt my heart drop.

“It was me?

I gave these to you?” I wonder if he was referring to all the specimens.

“You said that the beauty of shooting stars was their fleetingness.

Only a short€“lived beauty would amaze everyone…” Dexter leaned over to look at me, his voice still hoarse as usual.

He sounded lonely, sad, and guilty.

“Life is fleeting.

This is the only way to preserve them forever…” I started the wall of butterfly specimens in shock.

At that moment, it felt like they had all come alive.

“I didn’t know that I would like these things…” I said in surprise.

Dexter held my hand and brought me into the room deeper in the basement.

A password was needed to enter the room.

The door looked sturdy, almost like a bank vault.

As the door opened, I followed Dexter inside.

When the lights came on, I was in so much shock that my body went numb.

I wondered if Dexter was finally opening up to me.

In some sense, he had finally decided to trust me completely.

He had shown me all of his secrets and scars.

On the walls were investigation data that Dexter had obtained about Peter, me, my parents, people from the orphanage, and some people I didn’t know about.

It also included data about the serial murder case.

It felt like Dexter had been monitoring everyone like he was God, controlling everything behind the scenes.

I looked at Dexter in fear.

I wondered if he was actually the culprit.

Dexter brought me to the wall of photos and pointed toward the bottom€“left direction.

“This isn’t the first case of serial murders.

Three years ago, after leaving the asylum, a series of murders happened between the doctors of the asylum too.” “Several psychiatrists died from falling, accidents, drowning, and fire.

Essentially, their deaths seem unrelated but somehow closely related.” “Are you guessing that the culprit behind those incidents is also the culprit of the serial murder cases?” I asked softly.

Dexter nodded.

“They have one thing in common, which is that they don’t kill innocent people.” Dexter pointed at the psychiatrist who reported on the asylum’s unethical practices.

“His name is Quentin, and he was one of the rare psychiatrists who was kind.

He was the one who exposed the dark secrets of the asylum, rescuing me from it.” He was also the doctor whom Damien brought along to provoke Dexter.

“I’m at the center of all their deaths…” Dexter whispered.

All the doctors who died were people who once hurt or tortured Dexter.

“That’s why more attention will be put on me while the true murderer will be overlooked,” Dexter continued softly.

“If you knew that something didn’t add up, why didn’t you report these clues to the police?” I looked at Dexter anxiously.

Red€“eyed, Dexter looked hesitant.

“Dexter… You’ll tell me everything, won’t you?” I felt my stomach drop as I looked at Dexter, wondering if he was hiding anything else.

He looked away.

“Everything I have is here… Peter is a dangerous man.

I suspect… that your parents and Andy’s deaths… are related to Peter.” Dexter was talking about his father.

My breath quickened as I looked at the wall full of clues.

When had Peter begun to target the Black.

family?

It began after Peter won an award in the medical field and proposed the Godmaker Project.

“My dad, Biology and genetic studies… Genome€“edited babies?

What does that mean…” My breath quickened and my fingers trembled as I stretched my hands toward the documents.

Genome editing in the so€“called Godmaker Project was simply about helping descendants of rich people win the rat race.

If society came to accept such a project that violated human nature and morals, it would overturn the current societal state of affairs.

The elite would remain superior, and the secret to wealth would be kept in the hands of only a handful of people.

Meanwhile, such people would be immune to various diseases from birth.

They would be known as the Left Hand of God€“prodigies.

“The project was first proposed to research AIDS, rare diseases, genetic mutations, cerebral palsy, and other relevant fields.

When the people from the medical field lacked funds, they would request support from the financial sectors,” said Dexter as he pointed at a photo of Damien.

“As the most outstanding business prodigy of the Black family and also Ignatius’ favorite heir, Andy learned about children with rare diseases with your father’s help.” “Andy set up a charity fund and invested in medical facilities, providing sufficient funds for them to explore and research…” “Peter and your parents, along with Andy and other people of the noble class, became close friends.

They went from celebrating good times to being on the verge of collapsing.” “Somebody planned the accident to happen.

I’m guessing that Andy and your parents must know of a terrible secret that can’t be told.” The people dying now were people who knew of the secret.

Somebody was killing the witnesses.

“Five years ago, a new psychoactive drug appeared in the Verdentia Isles region.

The creator was unknown, but once it was released into the market, it broke countless families.” “It spread diseases, fear, violence… It was the result of raging dopamine and endorphins…” Dexter pointed toward the top right corner.

“Sophia, the serial murder cases are not the only scary thing.

Behind that is another wide, deep net which its full coverage can’t be seen.” “I hid it from you because… I didn’t want you to get involved.

I wanted you to live a normal life,” Dexter said with a trembling voice.

I looked at the central position of the wall of photos.

It was a photo of Sophia Milford.

Dexter had taken countless photos of me after the accident.

It was like… he had never left.

He had been protecting me.

Warm tears streamed down my space as I fixed my eyes on a photo of myself from high school.

I could remember how on that day, the bullies who bothered me suddenly disappeared.

In an alley nearby, somebody screamed for help… I heard that a teenager got stabbed during a brawl.

That must have been Dexter.

He had been protecting me the whole time.

“After I lost my memories, you didn’t choose for me to recall my memories about you.

Instead, you silently protected me… It was because you wanted me to live a normal life and escape this net, right?” I asked in a choked€“up voice.

Dexter didn’t answer me, He had tried many ways to protect me.

But in the end, he failed to escape with me.

“But we’re like insects stuck on the web… If we don’t burn it, how can we escape?” I said softly but firmly.

Since Dexter had decided to confess to me, it was also time for us to face the situation and Investigated together.

We should find the culprit and reveal the truth, along with all the darkness and dirt, under the sun.

“Sophia… You’re right.

We tried to escape, but we failed.

Instead of surrendering like helpless insects, we should fight back…” Dexter held me tight in his arms.

His body was trembling.

“This time… I swear I’ll protect you.

I definitely will,” he whispered.

“Dexter, you can guess who’s the culprit behind the serial murder cases and the deaths of the psychiatrists at the asylum, right?” I gazed at Dexter.

After all the years of observation and investigation, I guessed Dexter must’ve discovered the culprit.

However, he probably did not hold actual evidence.

Dexter looked away, clearly avoiding my question.

I wonder who the culprit would be that it was so difficult for him to confess.

I glanced over the wall of photos and evidence.

I couldn’t help but suspect… that Dexter was trying to cover for the culprit behind the serial murders.

“After Mandy died, you calculated the next victim before the second victim died.

But you didn’t report that to the police….” “Dexter, do you hate them, or are you trying to cover for the murderer?

What was it… that made you decide to help the police?

Was it because of my death?” I started to get emotional.

I wondered if Dexter had not expected Sophia to fall prey to the murderer.

Was that why he blamed himself, felt guilty, and went crazy?

Dexter remained silent as he tightened his fists.

After a long time, he finally said, “Sophia… that doesn’t matter.

Please stop asking.” “It doesn’t matter?” I frowned at Dexter.

All of a sudden, I felt disappointed.

I couldn’t understand why my murderer would not matter.

The key figure on this wall of clues would be Peter.

Dexter wanted to expose Peter, but was my death simply a tiny unexpected accident that didn’t matter?