Quentin Bennett didn’t dare to relax and joked, “Injured as I am, I wonder if this counts as a work injury.”

While the father and son were talking, the subdued Connor Reed, seeing that struggling was futile, couldn’t help but roar, “Damn lowly servant, are you blind? Clark Foster is the real thief!”

But Quentin Bennett held tightly onto his hair, making him unable to move, and chuckled, “A thief? The real thief is you.”

A trace of suspicion flashed in Eunuch King’s eyes, but when he looked at Connor Reed, his gaze turned icy cold.

Meanwhile, Clark Foster was stunned, and the head of the inner residence, Quinn Bolton, was even more bewildered.

Wasn’t Clark Foster supposed to be the one caught? How did the thief suddenly become Connor Reed?

Some people who were familiar with Connor Reed couldn’t help but step forward: “You lowly servants are going too far. Do you even know where you are? How dare you cause such a scene here? Look at what you’ve done to the flower hall.”

Although the conflict had only lasted a short while, Quentin Bennett noticed that the entire flower hall had indeed been left in a mess by him and his father.

Connor Reed, furious and desperate, saw someone speaking up for him and shouted angrily, “There are both witnesses and physical evidence proving that the one surnamed Lin is the thief. You say I’m the thief—do you have any evidence?”

Quentin Bennett chuckled and said, “I don’t have evidence, but I do have a story. I wonder if everyone would like to hear it.”

Without waiting for a response, he looked at Charles Bennett and said, “Dad, do you want to tell this story, or should I?”

Charles Bennett replied, “I’m not good with words, you tell it.”

Quentin Bennett suspected the old man was taking a jab at him for being all talk, but since he couldn’t catch him out, he could only laugh awkwardly.

At this moment, with the mood to tell a story, Eunuch King instead looked completely indifferent, sitting leisurely in his chair, holding a teacup and blowing the foam on his tea. In fact, despite his nonchalant appearance, Quentin Bennett knew that Eunuch King was waiting for the result—the process didn’t matter to him at all.

Quentin Bennett said, “Actually, this calligraphy piece wasn’t stolen last night, but was swapped out four or five days ago. Someone used a fake to replace the original, thinking they could fool everyone.”

Everyone was stunned again.

Eunuch King continued to sip his tea nonchalantly.

Quentin Bennett went on, “That’s why my father and I were entrusted by Eunuch King to recover the original piece. To avoid alerting the culprit, we staged this little drama. In fact, last night, I asked the house guard James Carter to take down the calligraphy, and ordered him to keep an eye on Sean Foster’s every move during the night. The reason we chose to frame Sean Foster is because four or five days ago, Sean Foster happened to be away from the residence, having gone back to his hometown to visit family, so he couldn’t possibly be the real culprit. Since he isn’t the real culprit, he could naturally be ruled out.”

Sean Foster was dumbfounded. What kind of logic is this? Not being the real culprit, so you deliberately frame me? He glared angrily at Quentin Bennett, his face growing even darker.

Connor Reed’s expression froze for a moment, a trace of panic flashing in his eyes.

Quentin Bennett continued, “The reason for deliberately framing Sean Foster was actually for one purpose: to lure out the real thief who stole the calligraphy. Think about it—if someone secretly swapped out Eunuch King’s most treasured possession, wouldn’t he be on edge, nervous at every sound? If, at this moment, he learned that the calligraphy had been stolen again, and the fake he used to replace it had been torn to shreds, what would he do?”

At this point, Eunuch King, who was sipping his tea, seemed to understand something. A hint of appreciation flashed in his cold eyes as he glanced nonchalantly at Quentin Bennett.

The next to catch on was the head of the inner residence, Quinn Bolton, who, eager to claim credit, said, “I think I understand too. It’s actually quite simple: after someone swapped the calligraphy, they’d naturally feel uneasy, since if discovered, at the very least they’d be beaten to death by the eunuch. But then, rumors spread that the calligraphy was connected to a treasure map, and last night, it was stolen again. After that, physical evidence was found proving Sean Foster stole the painting, making him almost certainly the thief. Next, there would be two possible outcomes: since there’s only physical evidence, the case isn’t airtight, so Eunuch King would keep investigating and might eventually find the real culprit. The other outcome is that someone provides a witness, claiming Sean Foster was sneaking around the main hall last night, solidifying his guilt and ‘solving’ the case. In this way, Clark Foster becomes the scapegoat, and the real culprit can get away scot-free, never having to live in fear again. Isn’t that right?”

To have risen to Quinn Bolton’s position, he was certainly no fool. Quentin Bennett’s hint immediately allowed Quinn Bolton to deduce the truth.

At this moment, everyone suddenly understood. No wonder Connor Reed insisted he saw the sneaky Sean Foster near the flower hall last night, describing it in vivid detail, afraid no one would believe him.

But Connor Reed never imagined this was a trap. Last night, James Carter had been stationed outside Sean Foster’s bedroom the whole time, just so he could prove today that Sean Foster never left his room.

Whoever lied was the thief!

Eunuch King put down his teacup, gave Connor Reed a cold look, and then said loudly, “Bring James Carter in.”