Emma Green. Emily remembered that name. The doctor who diagnosed her infertility was also Emma Green. If she connected all these dots… Emily couldn't help but feel a chill run through her body. If Grace had planned all of this, then her scheme was truly diabolical… "Emily, are you okay?" "I'm fine." Emily's expression was resolute. She was no longer the timid housewife she once was. If her mother's death was indeed related to Grace, there was no way she would let Grace and Sophia off the hook. "Mr. Satan, besides Emma Green, can we find out more about my mother's death?" Mr. Satan replied, "It will take time. What happened in the operating room can only be known by Emma Green and the nurses present. Dylan is tracking down those nurses, but nurses tend to be more transient than doctors, and over twenty years have passed. Those nurses might be quite old now, making it challenging to find them quickly." Emily stood up, "I want to go home." She meant the place where she had lived with her father during her childhood. Emily remembered her mother's medical records were still there. Mr. Satan took her hand, "I'll go with you." William's house was in an old slum area of the city. Many people in New York City didn't know about this place, but Mr. Satan was quite familiar with it. He drove through the maze-like residential area and parked in front of a row of houses. Like most slums, it was chaotic and crowded here. The ground was perpetually wet and reeked of a foul stench. Dirty boys shouted and played in the narrow alleys, and housewives hung out clothes that were faded from repeated washings. This place was home to all sorts of people, but they all shared one thing in common—they were economically disadvantaged.Mr. Satan protected Emily, ensuring no one bumped into her. A middle-aged woman in her fifties carrying eggs paused when she saw Emily. "…Are you Emily?" Emily stopped, "Yes." "It really is you! You changed your clothes, I almost didn't recognize you. I saw you on TV the other day. You've made something of yourself. Did you take your father out of here?" Emily nodded, "Yes." "Sigh, your father's really lucky…" After exchanging a few more words, Emily wanted to leave. But the woman grabbed Mr. Satan's sleeve, "Who are you… Oh my, why are you wearing a mask?" Emily gently but firmly pushed the woman's hand off Mr. Satan's sleeve and explained, "He has a special identity. We have some things to take care of, so we can't chat now." With that, she quickly pulled Mr. Satan away. The woman continued to grumble behind them, "Now that you're rich, you look down on us poor neighbors, don't you? You're all so snobbish! That man you found is weird too, just like your mother…" Emily found the old house. It had been uninhabited for a long time, and the door was cluttered with neighbors' belongings. Mr. Satan helped her stand in a relatively safe spot and began moving the clutter aside. "Let me help you." Mr. Satan held out his hands to her, "Emily, can you roll up my sleeves?" "Sure," Emily rolled both sleeves up to his elbows. Mr. Satan touched her face, smiled lightly, and started working. Emily felt a bit sorry for his expensive shirt. Mr. Satan was usually a bit of a germaphobe, but now he was bending down to move these dirty things. It made Emily feel sad. "All done." Soon, Mr. Satan cleared a path to the door.Emily wanted to hold his hand, but Mr. Satan pulled his hand back, "No, my hands are dirty." "I don't mind," Emily said, taking his hand and leading him to the small house. It was an old wooden door without any security features. The green paint was peeling, and the ground was littered with flakes of paint. Emily took out a key from her bag and opened the door. A musty, decayed smell greeted them. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand and walked in. The house was tiny, no more than thirty square meters. A curtain divided it, with two beds on either side. The furniture consisted of an old wardrobe, a damaged dining table, and three small stools that looked homemade. "Um…" Emily felt embarrassed, "This place is really small. Maybe you should wait outside. I'll find my mother's medical records and come out." Mr. Satan raised an eyebrow, "You don't want me here?" "No," Emily felt a bit self-conscious, "My house isn't very presentable." "Presentable or not, this is where you grew up. I want to see it." Since he said that, Emily had no reason to argue. Moreover, several people had noticed Mr. Satan's mask and were pointing and whispering. Emily didn't want him to endure more malice, so she agreed to let him in. The door was a bit low for Mr. Satan, so he had to stoop to enter. Emily closed the door and turned on the light, a dim energy-saving bulb on the ceiling. "This place hasn't changed much from before," Mr. Satan remarked, looking around. The small house was so tiny that you could take it all in at a glance. Emily was surprised, "You've been to my house before?" "Not inside," Mr. Satan said. "I watched from a distance a few times, so I remembered the way here. The woman who spoke to you earlier lives next door, right?" Emily was astonished, he was right. "She's a gossip," Mr. Satan said. "We should avoid dealing with her."