Chapter 381: A Home Interview

Wren Sutton walked to the door, a grain of rice still stuck to her fingertip.

Through the door, she asked, "Who’s there?"

A polite, flat voice immediately came from outside, sounding just like someone from property management.

"Hello, property management. We’re here to do a routine check on your water and electricity."

Wren Sutton didn’t suspect a thing. She casually gripped the doorknob, pushed it down, and pulled the door open.

The door had barely opened a crack when the blinding light of a camera lens pierced through the gap.

The next second, the door was thrown wide open. Wren Sutton froze in place, her face a mask of shock.

Standing outside weren’t property managers at all, but two fully equipped, eager-looking reporters she had never seen before.

One carried a professional video camera on his shoulder, its dark lens aimed directly at her.

The other held a microphone tightly in his hand, a press pass hanging from his chest. His sharp gaze made it clear they had come prepared.

Wren Sutton’s brows furrowed in anger. Her tone was icy. "You impersonated property management to come to my home. What do you want?"

Without a word, the cameraman took a step forward, the lens locked firmly on Wren Sutton.

The camera captured everything—including the unfinished meal on the dining room table and the warm sunlight filling the room.

The reporter with the microphone was even more aggressive, stepping across the threshold into the Sutton Family’s home.

"Ms. Sutton, we’re reporters from the Financial Times. We’d like to ask you for an exclusive interview regarding the car accident on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival."

The man’s tone was rapid and sharp, every word laced with an aggressive pressure that hammered mercilessly at Wren Sutton.

"Rumors are circulating online that the car crash wasn’t an accident, but a suspected murder attempt. As Mr. Adrian Lancaster’s legal wife, do you have any response?"

"There are also many rumors claiming you’ve been extremely cold since your husband’s accident, showing no concern for Mr. Lancaster’s well-being. Is this true?"

The cold microphone was practically shoved in Wren Sutton’s face.

Faced with the reporter’s sharp questioning, Wren Sutton was completely stunned.

’A murder attempt?’

’Online rumors?’

’Extremely cold?’

These strange, harsh words pierced her mind unexpectedly, sparking an outraged anger.

"What nonsense are you spouting? I don’t understand a word you’re saying. Turn it off! Turn that camera off right now and get out!"

Wren Sutton tried to slam the door shut, but the reporter forcefully held it open.

She couldn’t understand it. She had been at the hospital this whole time, constantly worried about Adrian Lancaster’s condition. How could taking one day off to make it up to her children be considered ’cold’?

And where did these rumors of a murder attempt come from?

’It’s absurd!’

Hearing the argument at the entrance, Mr. and Mrs. Sutton’s expressions changed. They immediately shot up and rushed to the door.

Mrs. Sutton took in the scene outside at a glance. It felt as if an icy hand had seized her heart, squeezing it tight. The color drained from her face.

She knew in her heart that what she had feared was finally here. The rampant rumors online had finally reached their doorstep, ready to harm her daughter.

Mr. and Mrs. Sutton moved together, shielding their daughter behind them and using their bodies to block the cold camera lens and the aggressive microphone.

"You unscrupulous reporters have gone too far! Lying about being from property management—how is that any different from trespassing?"

"We are not accepting any interviews. Leave immediately! If you insist on harassing us, we’ll call the police!"

Mr. Sutton’s voice was filled with suppressed rage, yet he deliberately kept it low, afraid of waking the two children sleeping in the bedroom.

"Go! Get out now! You are not welcome here, and we will not be interviewed."

Mrs. Sutton’s face was terrifyingly grim. She stood silently in the doorway with her husband, pushing against the door with all her might, trying to shove the two loathsome intruders out.

But the elderly couple was no match for the young men’s strength. No matter how hard they pushed, they couldn’t get rid of them.

The reporters refused to give up. They pressed forward desperately, the microphone relentlessly tracking Wren Sutton as they fired off even sharper, more grating questions.

"Ms. Sutton, by avoiding the question, are you tacitly confirming the public’s suspicions?"

"Mr. Lancaster is still unconscious in the ICU, yet you’re at home enjoying a leisurely meal. Doesn’t this prove that your marriage has long been on the rocks?"

That last sentence was like a sharp, icy blade plunging straight into Wren Sutton’s heart.

Her entire body went rigid. Her already pale face lost all color, and the fingertips hanging at her side began to tremble violently. For a moment, she even stopped breathing.

Grievance, confusion, anger, bewilderment...

A torrent of emotions flooded her, making her chest ache.

She stared at the flashing camera lens, at the reporters’ aggressive faces, and her mind was in turmoil.

Only a single, nagging thought remained, filled with endless confusion and panic.

’What in the world has been happening outside?’

’Who is spreading these so-called rumors?’

’Why is all of this malice suddenly directed at me?’

The reporters showed no sign of leaving. Instead, they intensified their questioning.

"Ms. Sutton, we’re just conducting a normal interview. Why won’t you talk? Is it because you have a guilty conscience?"

"The public has a right to know the truth about the accident. Your silence will only make the rumors spread more fiercely."

"As Mr. Lancaster’s wife, you owe the public an explanation."

The jarring voices echoed again and again in the quiet hallway. Wren Sutton’s face grew paler, and her body trembled uncontrollably.

Listening to the baseless accusations, she felt as if a massive boulder was crushing her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Mr. Sutton was so furious his face contorted. He told Mrs. Sutton to go inside, grab her phone, and call the police immediately.

But Mrs. Sutton didn’t think they should call the police!

’The Lancaster family has already taken care of all those negative posts online,’ she thought. ’If we call the police now, it’ll blow up. More people will find out, and the rumors will start spreading all over again.’

She couldn’t just stand by and watch her daughter get dragged into this painful vortex and be thrown into the eye of the storm once more.

Mrs. Sutton’s only thought now was to get rid of these two pests as quickly as possible and end this farce.

An idea suddenly struck her. Her eyes hardened. She spun around, rushed into the kitchen, and without a moment’s hesitation, grabbed a kitchen knife. She clutched it tightly, its blade glinting with a cold light.

Mrs. Sutton charged out, holding the knife high. Her usually gentle face was now filled with exasperated fury. Her eyes were sharp and resolute, and her voice carried a suppressed rage and the do-or-die intensity of someone with their back against the wall.

"I’ll say this one last time: get out now! We are not giving any interviews. If you keep harassing us and spreading rumors, I won’t be so polite!"

"If you dare take one more step, don’t blame me for what happens!"

The two reporters had never expected a scene like this.

Seeing the gleaming kitchen knife in Mrs. Sutton’s hand and her desperate, protective-mother demeanor, they were instantly terrified. Their faces paled, and they stumbled backward.

The cameraman’s hand trembled, and he nearly dropped his equipment.

The reporter with the microphone could barely stammer out a word, all of his previous aggression gone.

They were just trying to get a scoop; it wasn’t worth risking their lives.

After exchanging a look, the two hastily fled, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

The hallway fell silent again.

Mrs. Sutton slowly lowered the knife. Her tense body went limp, her arm suddenly weak. The knife fell to the floor with a sharp CLANG.

Seeing her mother like this, Wren Sutton’s tears finally broke free. She reached out and hugged her mother tightly, too choked with sobs to speak.

"Mom."

Mrs. Sutton hugged her back, gently patting her back. It was a long moment before she spoke, her voice hoarse as she soothed her distraught daughter.

"It’s okay, Nina. They’re gone. It’s okay now..."

Mr. Sutton quickly picked up the knife from the floor and closed the door. His face was dark, his anger not yet subsided.

"Those bastards. They’ve gone too far."

"Dad, Mom, what is going on? I don’t know anything."

Mrs. Sutton raised a hand to wipe the tears from her daughter’s face. Her tone gradually calmed as she spoke, carefully and earnestly.

"Nina, listen to me. Don’t pay any attention to all those messy rumors online."

"The Lancaster family has already used all its resources to get rid of those malicious posts. You can’t find anything online now."

"Those two bastard reporters just now have no professional ethics. They were just trying to get clicks by provoking you. Don’t fall for it."

"Your father and I, and the Lancaster family, will protect you. We won’t let anyone hurt you. Don’t be afraid."

Wren Sutton leaned against her mother, listening to her gentle, confident words and feeling the warmth of her hand. Her frantic, helpless heart began to settle, and her usual composure returned.

She wasn’t the type to fall apart at the first sign of trouble; she had simply been caught off guard by the sudden, vicious attack.

But the reporters’ words remained like a thorn in her heart, impossible to ignore.

She needed to know who was behind this meticulously planned online smear campaign, who would stop at nothing to maliciously destroy her reputation.

Wren Sutton racked her brain, thinking over everyone she knew.

She had always been gentle with others and rarely made enemies. Who could possibly hate her this much?

Suddenly, in a flash, a name leaped into her mind without warning.

Maya Marshall!

’That woman targeted me both openly and secretly, was jealous of me, and made my life difficult at every turn. She’s the prime suspect.’

...

「Meanwhile.」

The reporters fled the Sutton Family’s home in a panic, jumped into their car, and slammed on the gas, not stopping until they were a safe distance away on the side of the road.

The cameraman, panting heavily, took the camera off his shoulder and reviewed the footage they had just shot.

Lying about being property management, the surprise ambush, the family’s fury, and finally, being chased out with a kitchen knife.

The whole story was there, the conflict was intense—it would definitely get a ton of traffic if they published it.

He looked at his colleague and whispered, "I got all of that. It’ll definitely go viral if we post it. This trip wasn’t a waste after all."

But the reporter with the microphone was much more cautious. His brows were knitted as he stared out the window, as if weighing his options.

"It’ll go viral, sure, but don’t forget who we’re dealing with. Wren Sutton isn’t some ordinary woman. She’s the Lancaster family’s daughter-in-law."

"All the posts about the car crash disappeared from the internet overnight. It’s obvious the Lancaster family stepped in."

The cameraman paused, not having thought that far ahead. "So what? We can’t even report the facts?"

"What facts?" the reporter scoffed. "The ’fact’ is we impersonated property management, harassed them at their home, and got chased out with a knife. If we post that, netizens will just call us unethical. It won’t tarnish Wren Sutton’s reputation one bit, but it’ll bring a world of trouble down on us."

He paused, lowering his voice even more. "Besides, our source was anonymous from start to finish. We never even saw their face. We don’t know if they’re a man or a woman, where they’re from, or what they do."

"If we really stir up a hornet’s nest and the Lancaster family investigates, we’ll be the first to go down. No one can protect us."

The cameraman fell silent, his fingers repeatedly brushing over the buttons on his camera. He was clearly starting to hesitate as well.

"But it’s such a waste to just throw away this footage."

The reporter sighed and shook his head, his voice tinged with a weary resignation. "Don’t post it. Just delete it."

"If we really piss off the Lancaster family, we won’t just lose our jobs—we’ll be finished in this industry. And if we end up losing our lives over it? It’s not worth it."

The cameraman didn’t argue. He gave the screen one last, reluctant look, then gritted his teeth and, in front of his colleague, permanently deleted the video he had recorded at the Sutton Family’s front door.

The car was quiet for a few seconds.

"That’s the right call." The reporter started the car and slowly drove away.

"Just our bad luck. A completely wasted trip."