Chapter 381: She Surveyed Her Surroundings

Lenora Voss frowned as she surveyed her surroundings, her stilettos clicking sharply against the cracked concrete floor.

"Not even a single light in this stairwell?" She kicked aside an empty soda can with disdain. "And these walls are covered in flyers. Does the property management even exist?"

Clara Whitmore glanced at her wristwatch. Only fifteen minutes left before class.

She turned and walked away without a word of goodbye.

Lenora stared at the retreating figure, stomping her foot in frustration.

The rapid staccato of her heels echoed through the stairwell.

"Seventh floor... I have to climb seven flights..." She gasped for breath, gripping the peeling handrail. "Elias Mercer, have you lost your mind?"

The key scraped harshly against the lock.

The living room was immaculate, with several academic journals neatly arranged on the coffee table.

Lenora bent to inspect the sofa crevices—not a single strand of hair in sight.

A lone insulated lunchbox sat in the glass kitchen cabinet.

"One's missing." Her lips curled into a cold smile. "How impressive, Elias."

The crystal chandelier in the Mercer family mansion cast dizzying reflections.

"I knew something was off!" Lenora hurled her purse onto the leather couch.

Thomas Avery turned a newspaper page leisurely. "Evidence?"

"The lunchbox is gone! He never used to pack meals, now suddenly he does it every day—"

"Perhaps it broke."

"Your son breaking things?" She yanked off her pearl necklace. "He hasn't shattered a single cup since he was five!"

Thomas adjusted his reading glasses. "Grant made the gossip columns again yesterday."

"That playboy can do as he pleases." Lenora snatched the remote to mute the financial news. "Elias is different. He—"

"He's twenty-eight, not eight."

"That's exactly why it's dangerous!" Her voice dropped suddenly. "What if it's someone from that lab—"

Streetlights stretched two shadows long across the pavement.

Clara rounded the corner, arms laden with a thick Molecular Biology textbook.

A man in black athletic wear was entering the passcode at the building entrance.

"Professor Mercer." She quickened her pace.

Elias turned, the faint scent of pinewood drifting with his movement.

"Late night." His gaze flickered to the book in her arms.

"Research at the library."

The motion-activated hallway light flickered on the seventh floor.

Clara stood on tiptoe to retrieve a lunchbox from the wall cabinet. "Washed it three times. Should be odor-free now."

The metal container gleamed coldly under the light.

"Miriam's research project." Elias spoke abruptly. "Hit a roadblock?"

Clara's fingers twitched.