"Hello sir, this is People's Hospital. Your sister Ms. Annabelle Ross passed away three days ago at our facility. Please come sign the cremation consent form as soon as possible, otherwise we'll have to—"

The female voice was abruptly cut off by a large, well-defined hand pressing the end call button.

Six men sat around an opulent dining table, their expressions blank as they continued their meal. The news might as well have been about a complete stranger rather than their own sister.

"Tch, this is probably just another one of her schemes to squeeze money out of us," scoffed a strikingly handsome man with fashionably silver-gray hair, his features so perfect they seemed drawn from a manga panel. As Annabelle Ross's fifth brother, he happened to be the youngest Best Actor winner in Huaguo's film history.

"Exactly! When the Su family went bankrupt and we were thrown out on the streets, it was Yingying who worked overseas to support us all. Annabelle vanished without a trace back then," spat the fourth brother, Nathan Ross, now the youngest academician at the National Academy of Sciences. The "Yingying" he referred to was Fiona Ross, the Su family's adopted daughter.

Years ago, after losing their youngest daughter Annabelle, Mrs. Su had fallen into depression. To comfort his wife, Mr. Su had adopted a girl from an orphanage.

Just as Nathan finished speaking, a sleek black phone on the table began vibrating insistently.

The phone's owner wore an impeccably tailored suit, his handsome features instantly recognizable to anyone who read financial magazines. A living legend in the business world, he'd single-handedly propelled a failing corporation into the global top five within two years.

Alexander Ross, the eldest brother, frowned but answered the call.

The same female voice came through: "Hello sir, this is People's Hospital again. We just tried contacting Ms. Ross's fifth brother but were disconnected. Our records show you're listed as her eldest brother in her contacts. Would it be possible for you to come claim the body or sign the cremation papers? It's becoming quite difficult for us to keep the deceased here indefinitely. We'd appreciate your understanding."

The hospital staff member's tone held careful diplomacy. In her fifteen-year career, she'd never encountered such indifferent relatives.

"Understood." The deep baritone voice made the woman pause, but before she could respond, the line went dead again.

Seeing Alexander Ross hang up the phone, Ryder Ross couldn't sit still any longer. "Wait, bro, you're seriously going?"

Alexander elegantly wiped his fingers with a wet wipe and stood up. "Yes, I'll go take a look."

Hearing his tone, Ryder knew there was no changing his mind. Rolling his eyes, he also got to his feet. "Fine, I'm coming with you."

Sure, his older brother was a ruthless powerhouse in the business world, but when it came to his siblings, he had a soft spot. No way was Ryder letting that scheming Annabelle Ross take advantage of him—he had to keep an eye on things.

Seeing both of them head out, the remaining four men lost their appetites.

"Let's go too. I’m actually curious what tricks that woman used to get the hospital to play along with her act!"

......

At the hospital.

The nurse, recognizing them as Annabelle Ross’s relatives, quickly ushered them to the morgue—as if afraid they’d turn around and bail if she delayed even a second.

The morgue was icy and grim, the sterile scent of disinfectant barely masking the faint, lingering stench of decay.

All six men wrinkled their noses in disgust.

The nurse opened a door to reveal a room with three beds, only one of which was occupied—a body covered by a white sheet.

"Sir, this is Ms. Annabelle Ross. Would you like to take the body for private arrangements, or would you prefer our hospital to handle the cremation? If you choose the latter, you’ll need to sign a consent form and pay a cremation fee of two hundred dollars."

The youngest of them, Lucas Ross, shrank back at the sight, his voice trembling. "She’s... really dead?"

Ryder scoffed, rolling up his sleeves as he stepped forward. "Only one way to find out."

He was a medical prodigy from the prestigious medical school, capable of curing even cancer—determining life or death was child's play for him.

"Whoosh—" The white sheet was pulled back.

Before them lay a face the color of wax, tinged with a translucent grayish-white pallor.

Her entire body was emaciated—no, skeletal would be more accurate, as if her skin were stretched taut over bones.

It was Annabelle Ross.

The sight left not just Ryder Ross but all five of the others frozen in place.

Annabelle Ross was truly dead. No lies, no deception.

The nurse, unnerved by their stunned silence, pressed urgently, "Gentlemen, what would you like us to do with the remains?"

Her words snapped the six men back to reality.

Alexander Ross spoke first, his voice firm. "We'll handle it ourselves. No cremation by the hospital."

The nurse exhaled in relief. "That's fine. But you'll need to take her soon—she's already been here for three days."

Then, as if remembering something, she added, "Oh, and Ms. Annabelle Ross's personal belongings are still in Room 541. Please collect those as well."

When they arrived at Room 541, only an elderly woman remained as the sole occupant.

The moment she spotted the six men, her face lit up with a warm, grandmotherly smile. "Oh my, you must be Annabelle Ross's six brothers! Just as handsome as you look on TV!"

Nathan Ross, the fourth brother, blinked in surprise. "You... know us?"

The old woman continued, "Of course I know you! Annabelle Ross used to talk about you all the time. She'd say how amazing you were, that you were like her own brothers. The way her little face would light up with pride—it was something to see."

Annabelle Ross had praised them?

"Ah, but that poor girl had such a hard life. So young, yet her body was already failing her in so many ways."

As she spoke, she suddenly remembered something. Reaching into her bedside drawer, she pulled out a small metal box and handed it to them. "Oh, right—Annabelle gave me this. She said... she didn't have much time left. Asked me to help wire some money when I could. But what does an old woman like me know about such things? I was waiting for my grandson to visit so he could handle it. Now that you're here, you might as well take it."

Alexander Ross, the eldest, took the box. It was surprisingly light.

It was an old tea tin, its surface covered in rust and peeling paint.