Help! the four Alpha's are obsessed with me.-Chapter 162 Scandal In New York City...

New York City had grown surprisingly silent—something that hadn’t happened in ages with the level of madness going on both online and around its endless, restless streets.

Another chaotic news story flooding the net that morning was the sudden apology video posted by Nicole Shelton. She mysteriously announced that she was never pregnant for Xylander, that everything was a set-up.

"It was never him. I am so sorry for the inconvenience I threw him into. He was a kind man, and because of my obsession I ruined his life," she said before ending the live call.

But the public did not go silent.

Daniel’s fans went wild again, storming every media platform and flooding the internet with Daniel’s pictures, declaring he was innocent and threatening that anyone who tried dragging him again would be ignored—or even arrested for slander.

"Our Queen has proven that Omegas are nothing but pure creatures," one tweet resurfaced, gathering thousands of reposts.

But that brief moment of quiet didn’t last long. Because somehow... Nicole’s corpse was found stashed on a car—badly damaged, flattened with the corpse draped over the broken vehicle like a horrifying display.

Cops gathered around the scene beside the main road, a secluded alley beside a towering skyscraper. It was deduced that she fell to her death from the building, crashing onto the car and destroying it completely.

The owner of the car did not take it lightly. Someone might have died, yes—but his property got destroyed, and according to him, he had no business with anyone ending their life on his vehicle.

"How will I get compensated? Her ending her life wasn’t my business! So why did my car have to get damaged?" the short man—late fifties—complained, throwing tantrums, trying to make the police take his plight seriously. They ignored him and pushed him aside.

"Sir, this might be a murder. The perpetrator might still be around, parading and waiting to end another pathetic life. So if you don’t want to be next, scurry off," a TNT officer warned.

That scared the living daylights out of the man. He panicked, gasped for air, and then collapsed.

"Fuck!! He’s asthmatic—" the officer cursed under his breath.

Why did his day have to be this terrible? His eyes darted around, frantic. Luckily, his colleagues rushed back with an inhaler and helped the man regain consciousness before moving him away from where he fell.

During the clean-up attempt, a car rolled into the crime scene and parked sharply. It instantly caught the officer’s attention—until he saw the driver.

His heart sank.

It was her.

Detective Shelly Houston.

How she conducted investigations was a mystery. But what bothered him the most was how she never shared information with anyone, yet always solved cases unnaturally fast. Suspiciously fast. Something was off.

"Detective Shelly here. Make way."

She flashed her badge like it was jewelry and cat-walked majestically into the crime scene, unaware that a sweet, devastating surprise awaited her.

Officers shifted aside respectfully—she was the head detective on the Xylander Wolfe case and his mysterious disappearance. She was handling it too well, producing results so perfectly that Lawrence, the male officer from earlier, couldn’t help but frown.

"So what now? What happened here that needed my attention and you scoundrels couldn’t handle?" she barked, practically glowing with arrogance.

Lawrence could not stand her. The audacity she had to flaunt her power and position over people who had worked harder and longer than she ever did. He was an omega in hiding, a male omega—something he knew could ruin him. But thanks to Daniel’s case, he was beginning to have a sliver of hope. Hope that people like him—people considered insignificant—might one day be recognized.

A foolish hope maybe, but one he prayed would come true before the New Year.

He’d been in the office long before she was even hired. He worked his ass off on countless cases, yet the reward was a meager salary that couldn’t even feed a dog. But Shelly? The moment she walked in, she was promoted instantly. And since then she kept rising—while he remained stagnant.

Painful. Embarrassing. He had gotten used to swallowing it.

He had already decided that after the year ended, he would resign. Completely done.

Shelly’s heels clattered across the pavement as she surveyed the crime scene. Her sharp eyes locked onto the wrapped body. Still expecting someone to speak, she held her gaze on them, but silence met her as always—they were intimidated.

Not only was she an Alpha male radiating overwhelming pheromones, but her aura was cold and dangerous. People froze around her.

"I believe I’m not speaking to statues. Someone answer me," she demanded.

Lawrence stepped forward without fear. Raven-haired, pale-faced, red-lipped—he was beautiful, almost ethereal. A beauty wasted in shadows and ignored corners. But with his career crumbling anyway, maybe stepping into the light wasn’t such a bad idea.

His angular face and slight smile only irritated Shelly more.

"Why is this bastard smiling? Won’t he talk before I lose my mind?" she muttered, her day already ruined despite it being her self-declared day off.

"Your holiness—" he began, paused, then corrected himself with a smirk. "My mistake. Shelly—Detective Shelly. We came here after a report, only to discover the body of a lady who fell from the skyscraper and landed on a man’s car."

He spoke slowly, beautifully, then added, "So now we’re determining whether it was murder or suicide."

Shelly shook her head like she was surrounded by idiots.

Of course it was suicide. Obviously. Girls are just too stupid.

Probably some stupid girl didn’t get loved by a guy, so she took her own life hoping it would affect him. Foolish gender. Foolish stupidity.

"I can see you all are incompetent. And you—" she pointed at Lawrence. "A year in the squad and still this is what you bring me."

The jab stung. His jaw tightened. But he stayed silent. He knew she would eventually examine the body—that was all he needed to wait for.

"Uselessness runs in your bodies. Men and their dumbness," she hissed before ducking under the yellow crime tape.

She moved toward the corpse. Another officer stepped forward, trying to warn her.

"I advise you not to. The body is badly disfigured. Not good for the sight."

Shelly smirked at his concern and laughed.

"Do I look like someone who gets freaked out by corpses? Don’t interrupt me again, or you might lose your job," she said coldly.

Everyone nodded like puppets.

She peeled off the wrap, eyes narrowing—then freezing.

Her breath caught.

Her body staggered backward repeatedly.

Damaged or not, the face was still recognizable.

It was...

Nicole Shelton.

Her sister.

"HAAAAA!"

She screamed—loud, raw, ripping through the alley as her legs buckled and she crashed onto the ground.

Officers rushed, shocked to see the ever-composed boss collapsed, stripped of her cold dignity.

"She’s dead! My sister has been killed!" she wailed.

Phones came out discreetly. Videos were taken. Within minutes, she was already trending—crying, broken, exposed.

Lawrence watched from a corner, unmoved. While others tried comforting her, he ordered the body to be covered again and walked away quietly.

Minutes later, his phone buzzed.

Good job, friend. Now you see she’s nothing but a corrupt bitch. Soon she’ll be dragged down, and that position will be yours.

Unknown number—but not truly unknown. Someone he’d chatted with for a week.

Lawrence typed back:

Thanks, but I don’t want that position. I’m still resigning. No one will stop me.

He slid his phone away and kept walking.

The texter was none other than Thomas Cardew.

Thanks to Thomas’s calculated moves, the people behind Mateo’s evil deeds, and the other mafia lords—even Adrian Valez and all his dirty secrets—would soon be uncovered and dealt with.

He only needed to keep a close eye on Lawrence now.

Daniel would be so happy with this development.

Everything was falling into place—exactly the way he planned.