The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 137 We Found Our Sister

Brandon glanced at that smug grin and instinctively took a step to the side.

Samuel leaned in closer, deliberately whispering near his ear, "Megan is Blackwing."

Brandon turned to look at him, and the water in his mouth practically exploded onto Samuel’s face.

"Bro, are you trying to turn into a fountain?"

Samuel wiped his face with his sleeve. "Was it really that shocking?"

Brandon nodded. "Didn’t expect you to lose to a girl, honestly."

Right then, the machine let out a soft beep.

The two immediately moved toward the analyzer. Within seconds, data popped up on the computer screen.

They exchanged a knowing look and smiled.

Brandon’s phone rang. He answered, "Hey, Oliver."

Hearing the slightly excited voice on the other end, Oliver, standing outside the intensive care unit, asked, "Where are you guys?"

"At the lab. We found our little sister."

Oliver’s eyes flicked toward the glass window where Zachary, Jason, and Amelia were gathered around Stella. He strode down the hallway. "Talk."

"It’s Megan. She was in the car crash with Mom, so I took her blood for testing."

"I never thought it’d really be her," Oliver said with a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Mom and Dad are gonna freak—in a good way."

Brandon responded, "Yeah, but keep it under wraps for now. Especially don’t let Amelia find out. She tried to stop Samuel from taking Megan’s hair for testing, and not long after, that crash happened. I don’t think she’s innocent."

Oliver’s face darkened. "Don’t worry, I’ll look into it."

"Also, we need to find out how Megan ended up with the Shaws. Could be a mix-up at birth, or maybe someone planned it."

"Got it," Oliver said, ending the call and turning back to the patient room.

He leaned in to whisper something to Jason, whose eyes lit up before his smile quickly faded again.

Amelia quietly watched them, trying to read their expressions. Seeing no change, she relaxed—clearly, they hadn’t connected the accident to her.

By now, Stella was awake. Zachary was sitting by her bedside, feeding her sips of water.

His jaw was tight, voice low and heavy, "I told you to come back to Lindon earlier, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look—car crash. Once you’re out, you’re coming home with me."

Pale and weak, Stella rubbed her temple. "My head’s spinning, and I feel nauseous. I might have to stay here a while."

Zachary set the cup down and eased her into lying position. "Rest. I’ll stay here."

Then he turned to Oliver. "Take Amelia home. Tomorrow, pick up your grandparents at the airport. Don’t mention Stella’s in the hospital—they’ll just worry."

Oliver nodded, then looked at Amelia. "Let’s go. I’ll take you back."

Amelia tucked the blanket around Stella, her voice gentle. "Mom, Dad, I’ll head out now. I’ll come visit you again tomorrow."

She and Oliver sat in the back while Shane drove them toward Emerald Cove. Not a word was exchanged the entire ride.

The car stopped in front of a villa. Amelia got out and reminded Shane to drive safe. Then, only when the vehicle turned out of sight, did she go inside.

Sunlight poured through the windows. Everything seemed peaceful. The scent of fresh lilies on the coffee table gently filled the room.Amelia threw her purse onto the couch with a bit of force and slumped against the backrest, frustration written all over her face. As she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, an annoyed sigh slipped out—how was that woman still alive after everything?

But soon, something felt off.

The house was way too quiet. Where were the three maids?

Her eyes snapped open, and the moment she did, her body froze in terror, words stuck in her throat as she stared into the crimson, grotesque mask that had suddenly appeared right in front of her.

Before she could scream or move, a hand was wrapped tight around her neck.

"You’re making this difficult," a man’s voice whispered close to her ear. His tone seemed calm—seductive even—but there was something chilling underneath, like death breathing down her neck.

He loosened his grip and casually walked around to the other side of the sofa, taking a seat with an air of leisure.

Clutching her arms tight, Amelia darted glances around the room. There were five other figures besides the man in the mask. Her face had gone pale, but she forced herself to speak. "Y-You’re the one who called me?"

The man leaned back with unbothered grace, crossing his legs as he took a pristine white handkerchief from someone behind him and began wiping his hands as if they’d touched something vile.

He let out a short, amused laugh. "Yeah. That was me."

Amelia knew she was in deep trouble. These people weren’t here for small talk. Her making a move against Megan had clearly pushed a boundary she didn’t even know existed. Trying her best not to shake, she said evenly, "We’re supposed to be on the same side. I’m sure we can talk this out."

"There’s nothing to talk about."

That simple line felt like someone had pulled the floor from under her. As four men stepped toward her, her panic surged. Eyes wide in horror, she collapsed onto her knees. "I was wrong, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, please just let me go!"

Their shadows loomed over her, drowning out every bit of light like a nightmare closing in.

No amount of begging stopped what came next. Her strength was shattered, her dignity torn apart.

From a distance, the masked man casually flicked his gaze backward. "Make it interesting—and detailed."

One of the men nodded, pulling out a phone to begin filming.

The masked man strolled leisurely around the villa as if he were admiring art.

Amelia’s screams faded into silence. She just lay there, barely reacting, her eyes blank, staring at the way the chandelier above gently swayed. A single tear slipped down her cheek—quiet, powerless.

It was only after what felt like forever that the last tormentor finally stepped away, signaling that it was over.

The masked man returned to his seat, his hand motioning the man behind him to play the video.

Lying on the couch, disheveled and broken, Amelia had nothing left. The aura of the room had turned rancid, stained with shame in place of the once delicate smell of lilies.

With a cracked voice, she whispered, "I won’t resist anymore. I’ll do what you say."

A slow grin crept across the masked man’s face. "Good. Just be obedient."

He took the phone back, pocketed it, then pulled a tiny glass vial from his jacket. Inside, something see-through was wriggling around like it was alive.

He walked around the table, crouched down in front of her, and forced the liquid into her mouth.

A slippery object caught between her teeth as the fluid slid down her throat.

The masked man chuckled softly, standing up to leave. The others followed behind without a word.

As the sound of a car engine roared to life outside, Amelia rolled off the couch, collapsing onto the floor and vomiting.

Something translucent—jelly-like—twisted and twitched near her on the cold tiles.With trembling hands, she grabbed the vase from the table and smashed it down hard. That thing let out a creepy screech that made her skin crawl.