The System Gave Me One Job Then Regretted Choosing Me Chapter 06

The System Gave Me One Job Then Regretted Choosing Me Chapter 06

Those four words shattered Adrian’s mask of reason.

His hand shook as he accepted the evidence bag. His throat worked painfully.

“Depression… How could she…”

Grant stared at the report in disbelief.

“She never acted sick. She just threw tantrums.”

“She probably had someone forge it.”

He was still fighting to preserve their flattering image of themselves as generous people burdened by an ungrateful girl.

The System laughed bitterly inside my head.

[What a pack of idiots.]

[Emma, the Second Life Protocol is rebuilding your neural pathways. It should take approximately forty-eight hours.]

[Until then, sit back and enjoy the show.]

I sat cross-legged in midair and watched the tragedy unfold below.

The doctor ignored Grant and returned to the trauma room.

Soon, my body emerged beneath a stark white sheet.

Eleanor screamed and threw herself across the gurney, clawing at the sheet.

“Emma! My baby!”

At last, she abandoned every trace of social polish and wept without restraint.

Vivian stood frozen, her face white. She had even forgotten to look fragile.

At the far end of the corridor, several police officers were walking toward us.

“Who made the report?” the lead detective asked, scanning the Whitmores.

Adrian forced himself forward.

“Detective, this is a private family matter. My sister was upset and made a terrible decision…”

“A private family matter?”

The detective cut him off and produced a document.

“We received a detailed complaint alleging that the victim was confined against her will and subjected to sustained psychological abuse. We also have evidence that someone confiscated her prescribed antidepressants, which may have contributed to her death.”

His sharp gaze settled on Adrian.

“Mr. Whitmore, you’ll need to come with us for questioning.”

The color drained from Adrian’s face.

The law had reduced all his cherished control and logic to nothing beside a dead sister.

The story traveled online faster than the police cruiser.

Within hours, the scandal surrounding the Whitmores’ long-lost and adopted daughters had taken over every major platform.

#Whitmore Family Drives Its Long-Lost Heiress to Suicide#

#How Did Everyone Miss a Severely Depressed Woman’s Cries for Help?#

#Murder in the Name of Love#

Whitmore Holdings plunged so fast that trading was halted within ten minutes of the opening bell.

The lavish birthday venue became Exhibit A in the court of public opinion.

“How could anyone be this cruel? They locked up their own daughter and took away her medication, then left to throw a birthday party for the adopted one.”

“That note destroyed me. How desperate did she have to be to write, ‘Don’t save me. You disgust me’?”

“This sounds like murder. Adrian Whitmore belongs in prison.”

Public fury erupted.

The Caldwell Group’s PR team issued a statement overnight announcing that Grant’s engagement to me was over and distancing the Caldwells from the scandal.

It did not work.

People uncovered videos of Grant belittling me at the hospital and pressuring me to apologize to Vivian at the party.

Caldwell Group shares plunged alongside Whitmore Holdings.

Forty-eight hours later, I lay inside a refrigerated drawer in the morgue.

The System chimed brightly.

[NEURAL RECONSTRUCTION COMPLETE.]

[Welcome back to the world of the living, Emma.]

[Now let’s send every last one of them to hell.]