<h4>Chapter 183: Committed to a Mental Hospital</h4>


    But... people’s hearts change, and this man, Robert, was ruthless—so much so that he wouldn’t even spare his own daughter! Brianna’s heart was filled with nothing but hatred.


    Mrs. Jones pped her hands, signaling to her bodyguards, "y the recording."


    Immediately, one of the bodyguards pulled out a phone and yed the recording that E had handed to Mrs. Jones.


    "You can’t do this! If you keep this up, she’ll die!"


    "Darling, what are you talking about? I don’t understand! Besides, haven’t I taken such good care of her? Don’t you think I deserve some praise?"


    "You put something in Isabe’s milk, didn’t you? I saw it with my own eyes! I had it tested—it was a slow-acting poison!"


    "I didn’t! Stop using me!"


    "Isabe... it looks like she’s beyond saving now."


    "Darling, please! For the sake of our daughter, don’t worry about her anymore. She’s almost dead, and no one can save her, right?"


    "Hmph, that woman’s been nothing but a tired old hag. I’m sick of her anyway. It’s just as well. Once she dies, you can finally be my wife."


    "Yes! And our daughter will finally be able to call you ’Daddy’ without hiding it."


    Robert and Brianna both stared in shock, their eyes wide as they listened to the recording. The bodyguard held up the phone, and it was undeniable now.


    They finally remembered—it was a conversation from more than a decade ago. But someone had recorded it!


    Who had recorded that conversation?


    "I recorded it and handed it over to Miss Carter," Mrs. Jones said coldly. "But unfortunately... she never had the chance to use it. Brianna, you poisoned Miss Isabe, and Robert covered for you!"


    Mrs. Jones’s sharp voice filled the room. Brianna’s face turned deathly pale. But she was no stranger to adversity—she quickly regained herposure, a sneer forming on her lips.


    "You’re all mistaken, aren’t you? Not once did I admit to poisoning anyone. But Robert? He knew his wife had been poisoned, and yet he didn’t report it! He let the killer walk free!" Brianna’s sharp tongue shifted all the me onto Robert without a moment’s hesitation.


    Robert’s face contorted with rage, his eyes bloodshot as he pointed at Brianna and shouted, "Brianna! You’re the killer! If it weren’t for Hannah, I would’ve reported you long ago!"


    The crowd gasped, utterly stunned by the confession.


    With the recording in y, Robert couldn’t deny it any longer. It was clear as day: they were bothplicit. The venomous fallout between them now only revealed the depth of their shared guilt.


    A brutal dogfight, ending in mutual destruction.


    But Robert’s cold-heartedness was shocking. His own wife had been poisoned, and yet he did nothing. He protected Brianna, the very woman responsible. Had it not been for their divorce, who knows how long this dark secret would have remained buried.


    Suddenly, a shout came from the stage. "Miss Hannah has fainted!"


    Brianna gasped, remembering her daughter. She rushed back to the stage to lift Hannah, who was pale and unconscious. "Someone, please call 911!"


    From below, Mrs. Jones let out a sharp, mockingugh. "Brianna, get ready for another trip to prison! Ha-ha-ha!"


    With that, her bodyguards wheeled her out of the hall.


    The reporters, fueled by adrenaline, snapped away, capturing every moment of the scandal. Yet despite their frenzy, a heavy feeling lingered. They had done plenty of hical things as reporters before, but was there anything more immoral than murder?


    Robert cast one final, icy nce at Brianna onstage before turning and walking out. But he, too, was now deeply unsettled. He had just admitted to knowing about Isabe’s poisoning. His reputation, tarnished forever.


    Robert sat in his car, deeply disturbed by the recent events. He couldn’t shake the thought of Brianna’s treacherous behavior and her undeniable ugliness. The recording—was it really orchestrated by Mrs. Jones? The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Mrs. Jones was only a servant back then, and in those days, servants were often poor. It was unlikely she could have owned a device capable of recording such conversations. The whole situation gnawed at him.


    As his mind raced, a sudden noise shattered his thoughts. A group of masked men dressed in ck appeared, armed with knives and iron rods, and began violently smashing his car.


    Panic gripped Robert as he quickly dialed the police, but the attacksted only a minute or two before the attackers fled. They had done considerable damage, though.


    "Damn it! My car!"


    His beloved Mercedes was wrecked, windows shattered and the body dented, but Robert stayed in the vehicle, too terrified to get out. Who knew if one of those men was still lurking, ready to finish the job?


    "Brianna... it must be her! That venomous woman!" Robert fumed, breathing heavily as rage overtook him. His eyes glinted with a crazed, vengeful fury.


    Meanwhile, back at the hotel lobby, the chaos had subsided. Many of the reporters had left, and the nurses were tending to Hannah, who had fainted. She was taken away on a stretcher, and the hotel staff began cleaning up the mess.


    E and Eric, having watched the drama unfold, walked out hand in hand, clearly pleased with how everything had yed out.


    Sitting in the car, the wind tousled E’s hair, with a few strands yfully sticking to her rosy cheeks. Eric pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek gently. "Where should we go for dinner?"


    "Let’s head back to Nelson Group," E replied with a smile. "It’s close to your office, and today’s Sunday, so we’ve got plenty of time to enjoy the evening."


    Eric nodded. "Sounds good. We’ll have a nice meal and watch the rest of the show unfold."


    "The show’sing to an end soon," E mused, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t help but wonder if Brianna would fall into the traps she had set for her, step by step. So far, everything was going ording to n.


    "Don’t worry, sweetheart," Eric said with a sly grin. "Everything will work out as nned. And if it doesn’t, I’ll make sure it does."


    E leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Eric, thank you. If it weren’t for you, I never would have gotten that video of Joshua and Hannah’s deal."


    Some ns, after all, required resources and expertise.


    Without Eric’s team, she would have never found the expert hacker who essed Joshua’sputer and recorded his transactions with Hannah.


    "It’s an honor to serve my queen," Eric replied with a wicked smile, his tone yful yet reverent.


    E couldn’t help butugh. "If you ever became a devilishly charming butler, I bet you’d break the hearts of a thousand heiresses."


    "Your wish is mymand, my queen. Let’s head back to Nelson Group Hotel and savor life to the fullest." Eric’s suggestive smile made E blush as she turned her head to look out the window, avoiding his intense gaze.


    Outside, the sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with white clouds. The sunshine bathed everything in warmth as traffic flowed endlessly along the streets, much like the course of fate—inevitable and unstoppable.


    ...


    At the hospital, the sterile smell of disinfectant lingered in the air as nurses hurried about their tasks. Brianna sat by her daughter’s bedside, tears falling silently as she watched Hannah sleep.


    When they had first arrived at the hospital, Hannah had woken up, but she quickly became hysterical. She screamed, threw objects, and evenshed out, biting and scratching anyone who came near. Several security guards had to restrain her as nurses administered a sedative. Only then did Hannah finally calm down and drift off into a troubled sleep.


    The doctor’s words still echoed in Brianna’s mind: *"Mrs. Davis, your daughter has suffered an extreme emotional shock. Her mental state is severelypromised. Once she wakes up, we’ll need to run more tests. If she’s truly developed a mental illness, we’ll have no choice but to transfer her to a psychiatric hospital."