Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

I glanced helplessly at Stella, “It seems like some problems just refuse to die, is Melody gone? If she’s out of the picture, I might just pop a bottle of champagne,”

Stella was leaning on the balcony rall, letting out a sigh, “What else does she know besides acting? She’s clever enough, just looking to keep Dexter in her debt forever,”

It was clear as day; even Stella could see right through Melody.

Robin and Stella came down the stairs, and we all headed to the hospital together. Robin’s beard was scruffy, and he looked a bit rough around the edges.

“You look even more like a hobo than Colin does right now.” Stella whispered with a snicker, “But you don’t have Colin’s rugged good looks.”

Robin shot Stella a look, “Is that your idea of politeness?”

Stella just laughed and hopped into Robin’s car.

Dexter had come to, and his statement could really push the case forward. What exactly went down that night, how he ended up getting stabbed, and whether Dorian was the assailant or not.

His testimony was critical. We rushed up the hospital stairs, eager to get to Dexter’s room, but we were stopped in our tracks.

Cory cordoned off the place with police tape, looking discomforted as he faced Robin, “Robin…the higher–ups just sent someone here. No unauthorized personnel allowed.”

It was obvious they anticipated Robin’s arrival, and to them, we were just the “unauthorized personnel“.

“Finn?” Robin frowned, clearly annoyed as he barged through. “I just want to know what happened that night.”

Inside the room, a man in a sleek black suit stood with his back to the door. As Robin entered,

the man didn’t even turn around, his voice deep and measured, “Officer Robin, or rated.

to your lack of professionalism, you’re no longer in charge of this investigation.”

Robin’s brows knitted together, and he clenched his fists.

thanks.

Even without seeing his face, the arrogance wafting off this guy was palpable, as if he looked down on everyone.

On the way over, I did a quick search on this Finn. He used to be known as Felix before he switched to Finn. He was the third–ranked genius to enter the Genius Class at the age of fifteen, a year old

than Colin and Carter.

Colin was first, Carter second.

In an exam out of a perfect score of 700, one got a 706 and the other a 700. Colin had pointed

out some mistake and Impreciseness in a math competition question and provided solutions from two aspects, earning himself an extra six points.

Carter, on the other hand, would have had the same score if his handwriting wasn’t so atrocious; It looked like a worm’s trall, costing him six points for penmanship.

As for Finn, he scored 367. That was the gulf Colin spoke of

The Genius Class entrance exam was a beastly 700–point test where scoring over 300 was enough to get in. But out of countless kids nationwide, only fourteen managed it.

What was even more shocking was the massive gap between the third place and the top two,

The presence of Colin and Carter had turned the Double–Genius Welfare House into a national sensation. Because of them, the rest of the twelve geniuses were merely in the backdrop.

“Dexter, what happened that night?” Robin had been hitting the bottle hard these past few days; his mental state was on edge.

Dorian was pushing him towards a death wish, but Robin still wanted to get to the truth.

“The patient just regained consciousness. He can’t be stressed with too many questions right. now. Shouldn’t you know that, Officer Robin? After all, you graduated top of your class from the police academy.” Finn spoke coldly, every word dripping with disdain.

I stood at the door, just looking at his silhouette was enough to feel his unapproachability.

“Just because you’re provoked, you attack the suspect, potentially killing the only lead. Officer Robin, your intelligence, frankly, is worrying,” Finn was goading Robin. NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

Robin’s hands were balled into fists, barely restraining himself from lashing out.

“You think you’re pretty smart, huh?” At the door, Colin chimed in, “Dressed like you’re going to a funeral – is that to make us think you’ve got bra