As Nathan Greer’s psychiatrist for the two years preceding the actor’s death, Julian had been contacted by the police during the initial stages of the investigation. However, at that time, the authorities had only requested access to Nathan’s medical records, they had not taken a direct statement from him nor conducted an in-depth interview.

Dr. Julian Wills was thirty years old, carrying the calm composure and steadiness of a mature man. Tall, with a well-proportioned build, he wore a light gray tailored suit that accentuated his refined demeanor. His manner was polite and courteous, his gaze gentle enough to put anyone at ease. Perhaps this was precisely the quality that had earned him, at such a young age, a strong reputation and the trust of many patients who placed their mental health in his care.

When faced with Alex’s questions, Julian cooperated fully, answering with careful detail,

“Nathan’s previous psychiatrist didn’t achieve much progress with him, which is why he referred Nathan to me.”

“His condition had already become severe, and medication was necessary just for him to function normally.”

“Nathan’s body was prone to weight gain from antidepressants. Even though I switched him to several alternatives with fewer side effects, the weight issue didn’t improve. Recently, he had a role that required strict weight loss, so he decided to stop taking his medication for four months.”

“He quit the medication on his own. Neither I nor his manager had any idea. After his death, it was only his assistant who discovered a large stash of old pills hidden in his closet.”

Dr. Julian Wills’s testimony was clear and easy to follow. Through it, everyone gained a general picture of the patient’s psychological state prior to his death. Nathan Greer had suffered from severe depression; for the sake of a role, he had stopped taking his prescribed medication, which only worsened his condition. In the end, he chose to end his life at home by burning charcoal in a sealed room.

Inside the SCIU conference room, Adrian carefully reviewed all the files related to Nathan Greer’s apparent suicide before delivering his conclusion.

“The hallway cameras recorded no unfamiliar individuals entering. The front door was securely locked from the inside. There were no signs of forced entry or external interference. Forensic results confirm the cause of death as carbon monoxide poisoning. On the night before his death, the victim left a farewell message to his fans; during that livestream, his demeanor was natural, and his psychological state aligned with that of someone preparing to take their own life, no signs of coercion or staging whatsoever. It can be concluded this was a suicide.”

At the far end of the table, Lucy shifted uneasily in her chair. She looked as though she was trying to slip away unnoticed while the others were focused on Adrian.

But Adrian continued,

“Therefore, if this was in fact a homicide, then there is only one possible suspect - Dr. Julian Wills.”

“What?” Alex frowned at the conclusion, immediately sensing flaws in Adrian’s logic.

The evidence and witness statements all supported the determination that Nathan Greer’s death was suicide. That meant the case could be closed, the report written.

Just look at Lucy, already sneaking out of the conference room to avoid being stuck with the paperwork. That was the normal reaction.

“So why aren’t we closing the case? Where does Dr. Julian Wills come into this?” Marco voiced the question lingering in everyone’s mind.

Adrian smiled, that same composed smile that had become his trademark.

“It’s only a hypothesis. Nathan Greer’s suicide is a fact that cannot be changed. Therefore, if there was a mastermind behind it, Dr. Julian Wills is the only one with the ability to influence the victim’s psyche, guiding him toward the act of ending his own life.”

The conference room fell into absolute silence. After a moment, Elija finally spoke,

“Adrian, what you just said is terrifying.”

Lucy rubbed her arms, shivering at the goosebumps, and quickly agreed,

“Exactly. If a doctor can kill someone that easily, how am I ever supposed to see one again?”

Alex cleared his throat, signaling the others to quiet down. He fixed his eyes on Adrian, his tone deadly serious,

“So what you’re saying is that we should redirect the investigation toward Dr. Julian Wills?”

Adrian shook his head, answering at a leisurely pace,

“No. What I’m saying is that the file can be closed. Lucy’s boyfriend can continue proving his worth by writing the report.”

Lucy turned to glare at Adrian, her expression full of reproach.

Alex interjected,

“Why? Isn’t that the exact opposite of your conclusion?”

Adrian gave a faint shake of his head.

“No, it was merely a hypothesis, not a conclusion. But if Julian Wills truly were the mastermind, we would never find a single trace. Anyone capable of becoming a doctor isn’t foolish enough to make such low-level mistakes. If I wanted someone dead, I wouldn’t need to lift a hand, only plant a thought deep in their subconscious, and wait for it to grow.”

Alex fell into silence, his mind turning over Adrian’s words. After a long pause, he asked quietly,

“You really believe a psychiatrist could so easily lead a patient toward their own death?”

Adrian didn’t answer directly. Instead, he arched a brow and countered:

“Why don’t you guess?”

Alex rubbed his forehead. Fine. Just the thought of Adrian using psychological tactics to steer someone’s behavior made the answer perfectly clear. He admitted Adrian was right.

At that moment, Lucy timidly raised her hand and asked,

“So… Captain, do we still need to write the report?”

Alex waved her off. “Hold on. I need to sort out my thoughts first.”

Lucy let out a sigh of relief. Feeling lighter, she leaned back in her chair and casually pulled out her phone to scroll.

Then, all of a sudden, she exclaimed,

“Oh my god, someone else in the entertainment industry just committed suicide!”

The entire conference room turned their heads toward her. Realizing she’d drawn everyone’s attention, Lucy quickly straightened up, her tone growing more serious as she read aloud the article on her screen,

“The deceased is a 42-year-old talent manager named Gavin Moore, found dead at his residence early this morning. According to initial reports from the police, the cause of death is still under investigation. However, some unofficial sources claim the victim left behind a suicide note, suggesting this was likely a suicide.”

Gavin Moore wasn’t a celebrity. Ordinarily, his death wouldn’t attract much attention. But with the lingering shock of Nathan Greer’s suicide, any incident tied to the entertainment world was now drawing far more public scrutiny than usual.

“Does the article mention whether he had depression or any mental health issues?” Alex asked.

Lucy skimmed the piece again before shaking her head.

“No… there’s no mention of any condition or state of mind.”

Adrian’s words echoed in Alex’s head. From this moment on, he knew he could no longer look at suicides with the same eyes as before.

He stood up, rapped his knuckles on the table, and said, “Meeting’s over.”

Leaving SCIU, Alex headed straight for the division in charge of investigating suicides without signs of foul play, looking to dig up more information.

After learning that the deceased, Gavin Moore, also had a history of depression and that his attending physician was none other than Julian Wills, Alex immediately returned to the command floor to seek out the Chief and present his suspicions about the link between the two deaths.

More than twenty minutes of exchange and debate later, Chief Snyder Brooks finally nodded.

“I’ll sign the transfer order. You’ll take over the case first thing tomorrow.”

Alex hurried back to the SCIU office, clutching a copy of the signed order in his hand. But as he pushed the door open, he froze.

The room was dead silent.

Desks sat empty. Computers powered down, files neatly stacked, swivel chairs tucked in as if no one had ever been there at all. The cold overhead lights spilled across the tiled floor in a weary glow, heightening the sense of vacancy.

Alex glanced at his watch. The short hand had just struck seven.

End of shift.

He frowned, his nostrils flaring slightly. A wave of helplessness, tinged with wry amusement, washed over him.

“Not giving the government a single extra minute, huh,” he muttered with a quiet sigh. “These guys, honestly…”

Dropping into his chair, he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, his fingers drumming lightly against the desk. A long day had just ended, but he knew, without a doubt, that the real story was only beginning.