Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Zeke’s POV

I sat at my desk at the office with Mr Rogers standing opposite me. The weight of recent events hung heavy on my mind, the attack on the kids became a constant source of worry and anger. I turned to Mr Rogers, my voice edged with urgency as I sought an update on the investigation.

“Mr Rogers, what have we found so far regarding the men who attacked my children on their way to school? Has there been any new update?” I asked.

“Yes, Mr Reid,” Mr Rogers nodded solemnly, reaching for a tablet to pull up the latest information.

The screen illuminated with the recorded footage from a dashcam, showing the fleeting glimpse of the attackers’ vehicle. My jaw clenched as I watched, frustration bubbling within me.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“We got the plate number of the car,” Mr Rogers explained. “But when we ran a check, the plate number didn’t exist.”

My brows furrowed in annoyance. How could they have disappeared so completely, leaving behind no trace?

“How is that possible?” I demanded, my voice tight with frustration. “They can’t just vanish into thin air.”

Mr Rogers shook his head. “We are still investigating, Mr Reid,” he admitted. “We traced back to where the car was bought, but there was no sign of their presence, no clues to their identity. Just… nothing.”

I gritted my teeth in anger. These attackers had violated my family and endangered my kids, and now they seemed to have slipped through our fingers without a trace. It was infuriating, maddening even, to be thwarted at every turn.

“We can’t let them get away with this,” I growled, my fists clenched at my sides. “We need to find out who they are, where they came from, and make them pay for what they’ve done.”

Mr Rogers nodded in agreement, his expression grim. “I’ll see what else we can dig up, Mr Reid,” he promised. “We won’t rest until we have answers.”

“Keep me informed of any developments,” I instructed my voice firm. “And let me know if there’s anything else we can do to speed up the investigation.”

Mr Rogers nodded once more, his gaze steady as he met my eyes. “Of course, Mr Reid,” he replied. “We’ll leave no stone unturned until we have answers.”

I nodded and he walked out of the office. I loosened my tie a bit.

Who the hell were these bloody bastards?

I turned my attention to my PC and began going through some documents concerning the company.

I needed to know who these attackers were, who the saviors were, and what they needed? No one would just pop in and play the hero for who they did not know?

It had to be someone from the inside, but who? Fletcher knew nothing about it till I called for the special operations team and I am certain, that is how Zane would know about it too.

Arrggh!

After a while, Mr Rogers came back in. “Mr. Reid, I have some new information about the attackers,” he began, his voice grave.

I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “What have you found?” I asked, my tone eager.

Rogers hesitated for a moment before continuing. “It appears that the men who attacked the car were members of an underworld gang,” he explained.

“Which gang are they affiliated with?” I asked coldly.

Questions ran through my mind in successful orders. Why would an underworld gang attack the kids? Did they know they were mine?

Mr Rogers shook his head, his expression troubled. “We’re not sure,” he admitted. “But they have a history of criminal activity and have been imprisoned before for their involvement in the underworld.”

I gritted my teeth in frustration, the knowledge that my children had been endangered by such dangerous individuals fueling my anger. “So did you find out who killed them?” I demanded, my voice sharp with urgency. “And why did they save my kids?”

Mr Rogers sighed, his expression grim. “We’re still trying to piece that together,” he confessed. “Whoever it was left no trace behind, no indication of their identity or motives.”

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair in frustration. It was maddening to think that someone had intervened to save my children, only to vanish without a trace. “What about the manner of their deaths?” I asked, my mind racing with possibilities. “There should be something there,”

Each underground gang had their unique style of killing. Some were gruesome, some left symbols and some just had very clean ways of either cutting people up or shooting them at the target points.

Mr Rogers nodded, pulling up a photo of the dead bodies on his tablet. “They were all shot at a particular location, aimed directly at the heart,” he explained, pointing to the wounds on the screen. “And they all died from a single gunshot wound.”

I frowned, trying to make sense of the information. The precision of the killings suggested a skilled marksman, someone with training and expertise. But who could possess such abilities, and why would they intervene on behalf of my children?

“Whoever did this must have had a reason,” I muttered, more to myself than to Mr Rogers. “But what could it be? And why save my kids?”

Mr Rogers shrugged, his expression troubled. “It’s a mystery, sir,” he admitted. “But rest assured, we’ll do everything in our power to find out who was behind this and why they did it.”

I nodded, my mind whirling with possibilities. Whoever had saved my children was still out there, their motives unknown. But one thing was certain: I would stop at nothing to uncover the truth and ensure that justice was served.

While still trying to unravel the mystery surrounding the kids, my phone suddenly rang and I glanced at the caller ID. The lines of my forehead folded into a frown.

“Here,” I said, stretching the phone to Mr Rogers. “Take this call,”

“Yes Mr, Reid.” He replied and took the phone from my hands.

He answered the call with his usual professional demeanor, but I could sense an air of tension in the room as he listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line.

“Who is this, please?” Mr Rogers asked, his tone polite yet guarded. I watched him closely, my curiosity piqued by the caller.

The voice on the other end identified himself as Mr. Finley, personal assistant to Reymond Manor, Ellen’s father

What the fuck do they want?