Chapter 7 Investigation

Late at night, only one lamp was left on in the study of the Collins residence.

Arthur placed his phone next to the folder, his index finger gently tapping on the wooden surface, creating a rhythmic sound.

The first round of summaries from his assistant was in the email.

[Sarah has been publicly visible for three years domestically, with very little prior history. The official narrative is consistent: early years spent studying abroad, then living overseas, and recently returning to the country. Overseas mentors, courses, graduation years... none of these records can be verified.]

"Keep digging," he said to the person on the other end of the phone, his voice low. "If public records are unavailable, go ask third parties. Suppliers, insurance companies, exhibition contractors, and customs. She must have had contact with these people."

"Understood," the assistant replied, but then hesitated, "Additionally, Mr. Collins, the private investigator we hired abroad, reported that several institutions have signed confidentiality agreements and are avoiding discussing her early records."

Arthur responded with a simple "Hmm," not surprised.

"Mr. Collins, there's one more thing." The assistant paused, "At the hospital today, we checked the rehabilitation and pediatric registration records as you instructed. There's one very suspicious entry: 'Ella White,' language disorder rehabilitation, the file was just created recently."

Arthur gripped his pen, his fingers pausing.

"What about the guardian information?"

"The specific guardian information is inaccessible; the medical records system is encrypted," the assistant lowered his voice. "However, an insider mentioned that in the newly created rehabilitation files, there's a child named Ella who is often accompanied by a man signing the documents—his name seems to be Theodore."

"Theodore."

This name was not unfamiliar to him.

The White family operated discreetly in the industry but was absolutely not to be ignored.

Their only son, Theodore White, had received closed-off training from a young age, was sent directly to the Royal Air Cavalry Corps for further training upon reaching adulthood, and had carried out missions in Lumaria and other war zones before retiring due to injuries. He returned to the country a few years ago.

According to Arthur's sources, after returning, Theodore did not follow the usual political or business routes but was affiliated with a security company, occasionally appearing as an instructor or rescue consultant.

He was known for his clean and efficient work, never speaking more than necessary, and had an excellent reputation.

In the industry, it was said that if there was a tough problem, calling Theodore would solve it.

But why would someone with such a background appear in a rehabilitation hospital in Aurest?

And why would he be involved in a child's medical records?

Arthur squinted, his fingers pressing lightly on the paper, the impatience in his heart transforming into a cold determination.

"Investigate his social circle," Arthur instructed, his voice very low. "Don't touch his resume, and don't alert him personally. I want to know who he frequently interacts with and which places he has visited."

"Understood," the assistant immediately agreed.

"Focus on the past two years," Arthur paused, adding coldly, "Especially anyone related to cultural arts, education, or healthcare. Don't miss a single connection."

"Got it."

The call ended, and the study fell silent.

After a while, faint footsteps approached the door, stopping outside, followed by two knocks.

"Come in."

The door creaked open, and James peeked his head in. "Dad, John's bandage is itching again. He doesn't dare scratch it, so he asked me to see if you could change it."

Arthur stood up, walked to the door, and let the two children in.

"Sit down," he gestured to the sofa, "Ask the housekeeper to bring disposable gloves, saline solution, sterile gauze, and tape."

"We already brought them," James smiled, holding up a small medical kit for Arthur to see.

Arthur sighed, but said nothing more, crouching down to look John in the eye, "Does it hurt?"

"A little," John replied honestly, "Not very much, just tight and itchy."

"Itching means it's healing," Arthur explained simply, gently lifting John's arm a bit higher. "Hang in there for one more night, and we'll let the doctor check it tomorrow."

John nodded obediently.

"No roughhousing tonight, no running," Arthur said, looking at James. "Keep an eye on him, and remind him not to get the wound wet when he showers."

"Mission accepted!" James stood at attention, his eyes sparkling.

After the bandage was changed and everything was tidied up, it was late.

The twins said goodnight and quickly went to their room, closing the door.

The study returned to silence.

The phone on the corner of the desk lit up twice.

The first message was from the assistant: [Mr. Collins, Theodore's social circle in the past two years has been primarily within the rescue industry, with occasional interactions with the city charity association and rehabilitation hospitals. No connections with entertainment or media.]

The second message was from Seraphina: [Are you done with work? Mrs. Collins said she wants us to come to the old house for dinner tomorrow. I already bought her a new shawl, so we can spend some time chatting with her.]

He glanced at the messages, his finger pausing on the screen for a second, then he exited without replying.

Early the next morning, in the rehabilitation department office at the hospital.

Grayson Thorne put on his white coat and came out to greet Arthur, shaking hands and exchanging a few pleasantries.

He was the head of the rehabilitation department and had received a sudden message this morning that Mr. Collins from the Collins family was coming to meet him.

Though surprised, he dared not be negligent.

Arthur's weight in the business world needed no elaboration; his personal appearance in the rehabilitation department surely had a purpose.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Collins," Grayson offered the main seat, personally pouring a cup of warm water and placing it in front of him.

Arthur got straight to the point. "The Collins family foundation wants to establish a long-term language rehabilitation project, covering screening, evaluation, rehabilitation courses, and family support."

"This is a great initiative," Grayson's eyes lit up. "The rehabilitation department desperately needs long-term, stable funding. Especially family training and follow-up visits, which often get interrupted due to lack of funds, causing many children's treatments to be inconsistent and less effective."

He paused, then added, "If you are willing to invest, it would benefit many patients. Especially language rehabilitation, which has a long cycle and requires significant parental cooperation, but most families lack the necessary resources."

Arthur's expression remained unchanged. "So the project needs to be solid. Money is not an issue, but I want to see real results. Every investment must directly benefit the children."

"No problem," Grayson quickly agreed. "We will establish independent files and regularly submit evaluation reports. If the foundation has an expert team, they can directly participate in our treatment."

"Good," Arthur said, standing up, shaking hands with Grayson once more. "Looking forward to our cooperation."

As he was leaving, a young therapist hurriedly ran down the hallway, carrying a stack of picture books, and spoke to Grayson, "Ms. White's daughter is doing well today, willing to try new oral motor exercises."

"Really?" Grayson's eyes lit up, lowering his voice to ask, "Did she speak today?"

"Not yet, but she's following the movements," the young therapist smiled. "The picture books are helpful; she sees the images and imitates them."

Arthur's steps paused slightly, but he didn't turn around; instead, adjusting his sleeve, his expression indifferent as he continued forward.

Grayson didn't notice his reaction, just nodded. "Good, keep going, take it slow, don't rush."

The car drove out of the hospital, the sunlight just right.

The phone vibrated again, Seraphina's call coming through.

"Arthur, are you free today? Mrs. Collins asked if you're coming home for dinner tonight." Her voice was as soft as ever. "I've already arranged for your favorite caviar."