Chapter 431
”Odalys,” Caspian said urgently, his tone desperate, “Do you realize that the Bennett family is falling apart? Can you help us out, just because we’re family?”
He rushed to catch up as she turned to leave. Odalys stopped in her tracks, giving him a cool glance that spoke volumes.
As she had suspected, Caspian was asking for something. The Bennett family never did anything without an ulterior motive.
“I’ve felt it every time I go home,” Caspian continued, his voice dropping. “It’s like there’s a dark, oppressive force in that house. I can’t sleep; I wake up from nightmares, feeling like there’s something unclean there. Atlas and I decided-we can’t go back.”
He hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice even further. “I heard you can draw talismans. Can you make a couple for us?”
He stared at her, hope in his eyes, waiting for response. Odalys didn’t say a word, just looked at him, making him feel a prickling unease crawl over his skin.
“Caspian stood there, heart pounding, as though waiting for her to pass judgment.
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly. His pulse raced. But somehow, standing in front of Odalys gave him an odd sense of security, as if the dark weight that clung to the Bennett family had lightened just by her presence,
“No,” Odalys replied, her voice cold and final. Caspian froze, momentarily stunned. He had expected a refusal, but this? She had the gall to say “no” so bluntly.
“But… you’ve dealt with unclean things before,” he stammered, “Didn’t you help the Tillery family get rid of all that? You even saved Stellan’s parents from a disaster. You can do it. Why won’ t you help us? We’re your family-your brothers!” His desperation was evident, and Odalys wasn’t moved in the least. She turned slightly, her gaze as sharp as a blade.
“You never saw me as your sister before,” she said, her tone icy. “All you ever did was oppress and suppress me. You never once acted like a brother. And now you want to come to me for help? You think because I know magic, you can just ask me to save you?” Her words were laced with disdain. “You’re mistaken. We, the people from the Tillery family, don’t let ourselves be morally manipulated. We do things on our own terms, however we like.”
Without another word, she turned and began walking away with a confidence that made Caspian feel like the ground was slipping beneath his feet.
“Odalys,” he called out, his voice trembling.
The panic in his chest was real now. If she didn’t help them, they would be in deep trouble-he could feel it. The dread from last night was still fresh in his mind.
Just as he thought all hope was lost, a voice interrupted him. “Caspian.”
He froze, turning around. To his surprise, standing not far away was none other than Harvey Tillery, his calm demeanor striking in contrast to the chaos that was swirling around. Harvey looked immaculate in a gray leisure suit, his gold-rimmed glasses gleaming, and his hair neatly combed back.
The air around him seemed to shimmer with an aura of power and authority-his every movement radiating the unmistakable confidence of someone who belonged to an elite family.
“Mr. Tillery?” Caspian’s face lit up with hope.
Last night, he’d contacted Harvey and Dangelo, seeking their help. To his surprise, Harvey had appeared in person today.
Atlas, still reeling from Odalys’s harsh words, remained rooted to the spot. It wasn’t until Caspian tugged at his sleeve that he snapped out of his trance.
“Did you reach out to us last night because you needed something?” Harvey asked, his voice quiet but firm.
Caspian hesitated. He could sense that Harvey and Dangelo had just finished discussing something important.
The Tillery family considered Odalys an ally- perhaps even a savior-and they wouldn’t just stand by if something happened to her.
“Mr. Tillery,” Caspian said, a bit more composed now, “You see, Odalys is becoming quite a sensation. I’m worried she might get hurt, and I was hoping you could, maybe… secretly look out for her? After all, she doesn’t really have any powerful connections in the Stewart family yet. We care about her, and we know you’ve had dealings with her in the past. We heard she saved your daughter once-so surely, Mr. Tillery, this small favor won’t be too much to ask, right?” Harvey didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable.
“At that moment, Dangelo appeared, wearing a hospital gown. Despite the incongruity of his attire, the man still exuded an undeniable air of authority.
“What’s going on? Has something happened to Odalys?” Dangelo asked in a low, steady voice.
He stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Harvey. The two middle-aged, mature men exuded a powerful aura, one that instantly pressured Caspian, leaving him breathless. Even Atlas, who had been seething with anger just moments ago, now seemed tense and uneasy.
Although he had never directly dealt with the Bennett Group’s business, Caspian knew exactly who Dangelo and Harvey were. They were influential figures in Crownridge, people who held immense power and respect.
The Tillery family, though they had cleaned up their image, still had vast, wild connections in the underworld. On the other hand, the Drake Group was a business empire capable of crushing the Bennett family. There was no comparison. Caspian couldn’t help but feel anxious. How could he not be?
“Dangelo, you’re here at the hospital too? Seems like a coincidence,” Caspian said, his voice lowered.
He was careful, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Standing before him were two men who, with just a few words, could change the fate of the entire Bennett Group.
Even if the Stewart family didn’t get involved, these two could give a mere nod, and the Bennett Group would rise again.
And Caspian? He could kick Henry out and take control of the Bennett Group himself. With that in mind, he figured he might as well leverage Odalys’ connections.
After all, they were family-there was no need for pretense.
“It is quite a coincidence. Otherwise, how could I have overheard the argument between you two and Odalys just now?” Dangelo said
nonchalantly, throwing Caspian a brief, calculating glance.
In an instant, Caspian’s confidence crumbled. He felt his heart race, and his head dropped as shame washed over him.
“Rumor has it the Bennett family has allied with the Simpson family through marriage,” Dangelo said, his words dripping with subtle menace. Henry and Edie are married, but the Simpsons have yet to show any support for the Bennett family. And now, Edie’s distanced herself from the Stewart family and joined the Bennett family. You’re trying to involve Odalys in your problems –don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
Caspian’s knees nearly buckled from the pressure. Sweat was beading on his forehead.
Harvey added, his voice cold, “We’ve heard about Edie’s misdeeds in the Stewart family-how she stirred chaos. And now, Odalys is married into that family, and you want her to secretly help you behind Percival’s back? Don’t you think that’s interfering in a marital relationship?”
Caspian swallowed hard. He was beginning to regret this whole mess. His plan had backfired.
Dangelo’s voice dropped even lower. “So, you contacted us to ask us to meddle in private matters of the Stewart family? Isn’t that a bit much?”
Harvey chimed in, his tone almost mocking, “Are you under the impression that we can use our power to push around a young girl?
Odalys is just twenty years old. How could we possibly make things difficult for her?”
Caspian’s heart sank.
They weren’t just talking about the matter-they were defending Odalys, subtly accusing him of trying to bully her.
He lowered his head, completely defeated, as the two men stood there, their words cutting into him like daggers.
Chapter 432
”Or is this just how the Bennett family operates?” Dangelo turned to look at Caspian, his words dripping with contempt.
Caspian’s heart sank. Even he, as clueless as he was, now realized something wasn’t right.
Last night, he had contacted both Harvey and Dangelo separately, thinking that, as business tycoons, they would be too busy to coordinate. But here they were, together, appearing at the hospital-both showing uncharacteristic support for Odalys.
A sick feeling crept up on him, the realization that they had likely been waiting for him, setting a trap. The oppressive atmosphere was suffocating, and he felt a gnawing sense of dread. It was as if he’d kicked a hornet’s nest. His lips trembled, but no words came out. Atlas, standing beside him, also felt the tension. He glanced between Harvey and Dangelo, sensing something was off, but unable to place it.
“Mr. Tillery, Mr. Drake,” Caspian tried to salvage the situation, forcing a calm he didn’t feel. “You’ve misunderstood. My actions aren’t reflective of the Bennett family at all. I never meant to use you-what I want is to repair my relationship with Odalys. I thought since you’re close with her, you could help me arrange a meeting with her.” The moment he finished speaking, Harvey’s expression froze.
“That is using us,” Harvey replied, his voice icy and laced with menace. “Do you take me for a fool?”
Dangelo’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as he silently assessed both brothers. Though he was wearing a hospital gown, the aura around him could crush anyone in the room.
“Are you two trying to defend Odalys?” Atlas suddenly blurted, his words more a question to himself than anyone else.
But he knew the answer the moment the words left his mouth. Harvey and Dangelo were clearly standing up for Odalys. It wasn’t hard to see. The two men exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. Then Dangelo spoke, his tone leisurely but with a dangerous edge.
“I’ve heard that the Bennett family has given up on her. I, Dangelo, only have one son, but if Odalys would have me, I wouldn’t mind adopting her as my goddaughter,” he said, each word landing like a thunderclap in the room. “And I’d give her 50% of The Drake Group shares. She’d have an equal standing with Stellan-same privileges, same treatment.”
The words hit Caspian and Atlas like a freight train. They stood there in stunned silence, trying to process what had just been said. While they were still fumbling with the Bennett Group, The Drake Group had already extended an olive branch to Odalys.
Fifty percent of the Drake Group? That meant Odalys would rise to an entirely different level- her status would soar overnight.
Harvey chimed in calmly, as if it were no big deal. “Dangelo’s offer represents my family’s position as well. Evander and I are both prepared to give Odalys half of the Drake Group’s shares if she wants them.”
Both men spoke as though they were offering spare change rather than a fortune, leaving Caspian feeling utterly humiliated.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The people he once considered beneath him were now offering Odalys the kind of future his family could never provide.
Caspian’s voice cracked with embarrassment as he tried to salvage whatever dignity was left. “Mr. Tillery, Dangelo, you’ve misunderstood. Odalys is one of us, part of the Bennett family. I’m sure she doesn’t need your help.”
But his words only made the situation worse.
“One of you?” Dangelo scoffed. “Are you sure it’s not you who’s the outsider here? You were the one harassing Odalys just now.
Don’t pretend to be her protector when you’ve done nothing but make her life miserable.”
“Do you really think you can make her kneel and thank you?” Harvey continued, his voice low and full of disdain. “You’ve made her life a living hell. And you call yourselves family? Odalys grew up in your house, but to her, that was nothing but shame.”
Before Caspian could respond, a voice cut through the tension.
“You two must be delusional,” Sienna emerged from the shadows, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Caspian, Atlas-do you even hear yourselves? You think you can control Odalys? She’s our guest in both our families, but you? You show up in the dead of night, trying to trap her in your schemes.”
Celeste joined in, her voice biting. “The Drake Group doesn’t stoop to the level of the Bennett family’s shamelessness. Don’t think you can manipulate Odalys the way you’ve manipulated everyone else.”
Caspian stood there, his face burning with shame.
He’d thought that by playing his cards right, he could get some leverage. But instead, he had humiliated himself in front of people far more powerful than he could ever imagine.
“Go back and tell Hannah,” Celeste added with a venomous smile, “If she dares to make things difficult for Odalys again, I won’t hesitate to make her regret it.”
Without another word, Caspian and Atlas turned, nearly running out of the room in disgrace.
Not far away, under a tree, Finnian watched the whole scene unfold.
His fist clenched tightly at his side. He heard the echo of Odalys’s words in his mind, and looked at the towering figures of the Drake Group and the Tillery Group, who were standing by her. Even the Lark family had her back.
“Odalys, why do you have it so easy?” Finnian muttered under his breath. “If I could just take back the luck you’ve stolen from me, you’d be back at my side.”
He was sinking into a spiral of self-doubt, his mind consumed with frustration. Once you’ve lost everything, only then do you realize how deeply you were mistaken.
He was as good as dead now. If he even touched water, he’d be finished. So he had to act fast-he had to reclaim the luck Sophia had taken from him. But how?
After a long, heavy silence, Finnian turned and strode away, lost in thought.
As he left, a sleek black Mercedes parked by the hospital entrance. The window rolled down, and Edie’s voice floated out.
“Did you see that? Odalys is no longer something you can control. If you cooperate with me, the Simpson family will help you get back to the top of the Bennett Group.”
Henry sat behind the wheel, his expression grim. He exhaled a puff of smoke, then turned to Edie. “Was it your brother, Quinton, who hit me that day? I remember he never showed his face in public. Why was he involved this time?”
Quinton was shrouded in mystery. No one had ever seen his true face.
It was widely known that Edie wielded dark powers, but no one knew what her “younger brother” looked like.
The Simpson family had firmly established itself in Crownridge, largely due to Quinton’s tactics and the strategic alliance between Edie and the Stewart family’s influence. It was as if the Simpson family had solidified its position overnight.
There were even rumors that Quinton was a ruthless figure, a gangster with decisive, blood- stained hands. However, very little information about him existed online. Apart from his name, there was nothing to be found. His existence remained an enigma.
“That’s none of your business,” Edie shot back, her tone colder than ice. “If you know what’s good for you, don’t ask questions you shouldn’t.”
Henry’s lips tightened. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, staring out the window as if lost in thought.
“Since we’re married, it’s inevitable that the Bennett and Simpson families will merge,” he said finally. “If you want to join the Bennett Group, fine. I don’t care what your endgame is, but I need to visit the Simpson family first.” Edie’s brows furrowed in displeasure. The Simpson family was a fortress-no one entered unless they were invited. It was as elusive as the Stewart family, hidden from the outside world.
“You used business and temptation to get me into your trap,” Edie sneered. “Don’t play me for a fool-this is all about you getting closer to the Bennett family, not some petty revenge against my mother.”
Chapter 433
”You haven’t contacted her in over twenty years, and suddenly, you reappear, and now we’ve had a fling-it’s clear we both got what we needed,” Henry said flatly.
He laid the matter out plainly, and Edie’s face darkened even more.
She had thought Henry was easy to manipulate, but now, under his gaze, her confidence began to waver.
Today’s Henry felt like a completely different person. Was he just pretending before, luring her into his trap? Or had he been hiding his true self all along?
“I’ll make time,” Edie said stiffly, her voice sharp. She slammed the car door with a resounding bang, turning on her heel and striding away without a backward glance.
Henry sat behind the wheel, absentmindedly tracing the wound from yesterday, a bruise left by both Edie and Quinton. He spat out of the window, cursing, before taking a leaf from the air and tossing it aside with an angry flick.
“Mom, it’s me,” Henry said, dialing his phone.
On the other end, he listened for a moment before replying, his voice growing colder. “I’ve had people tailing Dad. Just as you suspected, something’s off. Ever since he came back from overseas, it’s like he’s a completely different person.”
“These years, he lived abroad, not returning for three whole years. Now, he’s back, trying to divorce you and deliberately sleeping with Sophia.”
“He’s got an agenda. Whether he’s really Windsor or not doesn’t matter. Since he’s back in Crownridge, I’ll make sure he pays the price for what he’s done.”
“Don’t worry, the Bennett Group will never fall into his hands.” Henry ended the call with a finality that made it clear there was no room for negotiation.
His eyes flashed with cold determination-a look only someone in power could possess.
Since Sophia’s scandal and the variety show failure, the Bennett Group had been spiraling downhill, and it seemed irreversible.
Now, though they appeared united, the family was more like a house of cards, ready to crumble.
Edie’s hasty marriage, the Simpson family’s strike, Windsor’s return and divorce-everything seemed like a string of coincidences, yet it all pointed to something more sinister, a plot that had caught him off guard.
After hanging up, Henry drove off, his mind running through a hundred scenarios.
Across the street, at a smoothie shop, Odalys rested her cheek on her hand, sipping lemon water, her gaze following Henry’s departure before she turned her attention back to Orson.
“Finnian’s got his eyes on Henry,” Orson said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Odalys ran her finger around the rim of her glass, picking up a slice of lemon and biting into it. The bitter taste spread across her tongue.
“The more chaos within The Bennett family, the better. They’re so suspicious of each other now, especially with Windsor’s divorce. Henry’s not letting go of The Bennett Group, so he’ll definitely want to kick Windsor out.”
“Now, it’s up to Windsor-whether he’s a man or a ghost. If the Bennett family remains divided, the conflict will bring out the people hiding in the shadows.”
“Who was it that suggested The Bennett family get rid of me, either by sending me away or killing me, and then adopt Sophia to pave the way for her? If I can uncover that person, the real show will begin,” Odalys said, her tone sharp.
Orson’s fingers twisted nervously.
Although they sat casually drinking coffee, he couldn’t shake the discomfort he felt around Odalys. There was something unnerving about her presence.
“Odalys, Percival went to the Simpson villa. Do you think he’s in danger?” Orson asked, his curiosity bubbling up despite his anxiety. He knew Odalys had a knack for magic-she often foresaw things before they happened.
Orson held his breath, waiting. When Odalys finally stopped drawing circles and slowly stood up, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“After gathering all the patient data from the high-society families, send me a detailed report. Also, keep an eye on Edie. Find out what she wants from The Bennett family.”
“And find a way to get her alone with Windsor. Make Hannah jealous. When two old friends start to doubt each other, it’s bound to drag out more secrets,” Odalys continued, her voice low and calculated.
“Sophia was able to pressure Edie into setting the fire on me, which means she’s listening to Sophia. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Edie definitely knows more than she’s letting on.”
It was as though someone was using sleight of hand to obscure the truth, to make it impossible to see what was really happening.
The situation felt clouded, like an intricate web someone had woven in the background, and Odalys wasn’t about to dig too deep-she preferred to wait and let her enemies expose themselves.
“Got it,” Orson replied, nodding quickly.
Odalys began to walk away, but after two steps, she stopped and turned back.
“I’ll handle Percival’s safety. Don’t worry about him. Your only task is to keep your eyes on Edie. Also, find Oliver. We need him,” she said firmly.
Orson, who had been preparing to pay the bill, noticed something strange.
The spot where Odalys had been drawing circles on the table-was it… changing?
“What is this?” Orson muttered in shock.
He quickly stood up, moving to her seat and bending down to inspect the table. What had been a vague circle was now a clear drawing- something resembling a map.
Orson’s throat tightened as he stared, utterly stunned. He hadn’t expected a random doodle to turn into something so intricate. It was like a map, with unmistakable details.
He quickly pulled out his phone, snapping a picture before wiping the water stains away, acting as if nothing had happened. He paid for the drinks and rushed out of the cafe, his mind racing.
“Odalys really is incredible,” Orson muttered under his breath.
Being around her always felt suffocating, but he knew it was a blessing that he was on her good side. If anyone else had to deal with her, they wouldn’t last a second. Not because she was scary, but because she was too clever for anyone to keep up with. She made men hesitant to get too close.
He grinned, his handsome face lighting up as he casually whistled and headed for his car. He was just about to start the engine when his phone vibrated.
Seeing Percival’s name on the screen, he quickly picked up.
“Orson, it’s me,” Percival’s voice came through, sounding strained.
“Did you make it to the Simpson villa? I just met with Odalys. How’s everything there?” Orson asked, barely able to contain his excitement. He wasn’t usually a gossip, but now, he couldn’t help but want to share everything.
“The Simpson villa doesn’t exist. It’s deep in the mountains, an abandoned graveyard-like a mass burial ground. You need to get someone to protect Odalys, right now,” Percival said urgently.
“I don’t know what’s coming, but everything feels off. I’ve got the feeling that someone’s setting a huge trap-one that’s meant for her.”
“What?! Odalys just left,” Orson said, his voice shaking. He had never heard Percival so frantic before. His own heart began to race. If Odalys was in danger, he couldn’t afford to waste another second.
“Remember the scenario I told you about ten years ago? Maybe that’s not a hypothetical anymore. It might be real.”
Chapter 434
Orson gripped the steering wheel tightly, his fingers suddenly loosening as he sucked in a sharp breath.
His towering frame slumped back into the seat as he processed Percival’s words. It felt as though an invisible net was closing in on him from all directions.
“Because of your hypothesis from ten years ago, you’ve allowed Edie to run wild, using the Stewart family’s resources to prop up the Simpson family,” Percival’s voice echoed through the phone. “You’re setting a trap for them, trying to prove whether your hypothesis was real, or are you just preparing for what’s to come?” Orson’s mind raced. He knew Percival’s thoughts, but he didn’t push for more answers. What Orson didn’t realize was that Percival had spent all these years preparing, not just for the present, but for the validation of a theory he’d kept hidden all along.
Orson snapped his fingers. “Nice.”
။
“You don’t have to worry. I’ll protect Odalys, even if it means my life. I won’t let a single hair on her head be harmed,” Orson said, his voice suddenly filled with resolve.
He went on to recount the details of his day: how Odalys had intimidated Edie and probed into her mind, how she had exposed Sophia’s true nature, and how he’d collected hair and blood samples from both Sophia and Henry. He also mentioned Odalys’ suspicion that Henry was somehow meant for Sophia.
Percival listened in silence, before falling into a heavy quiet.
“Percival? Are you still there?” Orson asked after a long pause. He hadn’t heard anything from the other end.
“Did she see Edie and Sophia’s minds and not tell you?” Percival’s voice came back, tinged with disbelief.
“Yes,” Orson replied. “I get the feeling Odalys is on the verge of making a big decision. I’m worried… there’s a sense that danger is on the horizon.”
Orson’s concern was palpable, but he didn’t want to seem like he didn’t trust Percival’s judgment.
“I understand,” Percival responded, his tone clipped. Without waiting for Orson to reply, he ended the call abruptly.
“Percival? Percival? Damn it, he hung up!” Orson cursed, staring at the phone. He tried calling back, but the line wouldn’t connect. Whether it was a poor signal or something else, he couldn’t tell.
Restlessness gnawed at him as he rubbed his temples, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
“Damn it, Odalys did say she’d handle Percival’s safety. Why am I still worried? I’m probably just overthinking things,” Orson muttered to himself. But as soon as he thought about what Percival had said-the Simpson villa didn’t exist-it hit him like a bolt of lightning.
His heart skipped a beat. Without another thought, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped toward Odalys’ company.
When he arrived and parked the car, he saw someone leaving after placing candles inside. Orson quickly made his way inside, his footsteps hurried.
“Grandpa,” he called, his voice somewhat strained.
“Evander was seated, wiping down a table and rearranging the candles beside him with a quiet precision.
“What’s going on? Why the rush?” Evander asked without looking up.
Orson quickly closed the door behind him, then walked over to Evander and, in a low voice, recounted everything Percival had just told him.
Evander listened without saying a word, his expression impassive.
“What should we do now? Do we need to come up with a strategy?” Orson asked, his tone uneasy.
While Orson couldn’t make any decisions about the Stewart family, he couldn’t afford to just sit back and let Percival handle things alone. With his medical background, Orson knew he could navigate a lot of challenges, but when it came to the family business and politics, he needed Evander’s guidance.
Evander took his time, pouring a cup of coffee, then handed it to Orson.
Orson drank it quickly, not paying much attention to the taste. His nerves were on edge. He glanced at Evander, waiting for an answer.
“Grandpa, say something. Do you have any thoughts?” Orson pressed.
Evander leaned back in his chair. “They have their own plans. Let them handle it. We don’t need to get involved.”
Orson stared at Evander, stunned. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“You’re not going to do anything? What if the Simpson family makes their move? Percival’s not in Crownridge, and the news is being tightly controlled. But the Simpson family has been eyeing the Stewart family for a while now. If they catch wind of something, it could spiral out of control.”
“I’m worried about them coming after you and Odalys,” Orson added, his voice tinged with real concern.
It wasn’t that he lacked the ability or the will to act-he just needed The Stewart family’s backing.
“I promised Odalys that I wouldn’t leave the house or get involved in anything other than business or matters concerning the Stewart Villa,” Evander replied calmly.
Orson blinked in disbelief, his mind struggling to process his grandfather’s words.
He placed his coffee cup down on the table, his thoughts swirling in confusion. He and Evander sat in silence for a long while, both deep in their own reflections.
“Anything that happens, you can’t just take it at face value, and you can’t rush into things. You’ll only walk into someone else’s trap that way. Patience is key,” Evander finally said, breaking the silence.
Orson sat frozen, struck by his grandfather’s wisdom. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he had let his worries cloud his judgment. He had almost made a critical mistake.
It was strange. Just sitting here, in this calm atmosphere, with the coffee and the company, it felt like his mind had settled.
“Go. Light a candle for the ancestors,” Evander said, breaking the moment of contemplation.
He gestured for Orson to wash his hands and then pass him the candles.
Orson didn’t dare to waste time. He hurriedly grabbed a candle and attempted to place it properly. But as soon as he tried to set it in place, it tilted, and his nerves got the better of him. He frantically tried to straighten it, but in his haste, melted wax dripped down onto his hand, burning him.
He instinctively pulled his hand away, and the candle toppled, hitting the floor with a soft thud. “Sorry! I’m terrible at lighting candles. I’m just nervous,” Orson muttered, flustered.
He quickly crouched down to pick it up and try again, but before he could, Evander moved in silently, taking the candle from his hand. Without a word, he turned and placed it in the candle holder-perfectly, without it tilting.
Orson froze, a strange sensation creeping up his spine. Something about the way it had happened felt… off. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling growing in his gut.
“Grandpa, I’ll head out now,” Orson said, his voice laced with uncertainty.
He had intended to stay and finish the task, but something told him it wasn’t worth it.
The immediate priority was getting other matters sorted. There were bigger issues to address, and lingering on candles wasn’t going to help.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. His team had yet to report back on Oliver. It was already two hours, and there was still no news.
With his vast network, finding someone in Crownridge shouldn’t be this hard. The delay was too strange.
“Wait,” Evander called out just as Orson turned to leave.
Orson paused, confused, but complied and turned back.
“I’ll call Odalys,” Evander said, pulling out his phone in a hurry.
Just as Orson was about to respond, a strange noise came from outside the room. He turned quickly, but the hallway was empty. Before he could make sense of it, something suddenly flew toward him.
Reacting instinctively, Orson jerked backward, trying to block whatever was coming. It was a knife-gleaming in the sunlight, sharp and deadly. His eyes widened in shock as it sliced through the air toward him.
He barely had time to raise his arm in defense when the blade came down, aiming straight for his wrist. The hand he used to protect himself was his most valuable asset-if that were to be damaged, everything he worked for would be destroyed.
In that moment, everything else faded away. The only thing that mattered was the incoming threat.
Chapter 435
Orson tried to dodge, but instinct only allowed his body to fall backward. He watched, helplessly, as the knife came down on his wrist.
“Shit,” Orson cursed, barely able to stop himself from shouting.
His body hit the ground with a heavy thud. It felt like his foot had kicked something, and suddenly his phone flew out of his pocket, colliding with the incoming knife with a loud clang.
Orson’s eyes widened in surprise. He saw the blade hit his phone and drop to the ground, landing between his legs.
His gaze didn’t move from the sharp knife, but his eyes were glued to the phone, still glowing, the screen displaying the very sketch Odalys had absentmindedly drawn on the table earlier when they were having coffee.
She had doodled it casually as she spoke, and after she left, he had snapped a photo of it before heading out.
His mind raced. Trembling fingers reached for the phone, his heart pounding.
“What happened?” Evander’s calm voice broke through the tension. He had heard the noise and came rushing out.
Seeing Orson on the ground with the phone between his legs, and the knife had struck the screen, Evander stepped forward, his heavy boots sounding solid against the floor. Orson handed the phone over wordlessly.
Evander took it, his hands rough but steady, and stared at the glowing screen. He didn’t even need to look twice. “Isn’t this the same mark from Odalys’ room?” he asked.
“What mark?” Orson asked without thinking, though deep inside, he had already started to piece things together.
He may have been young, but he wasn’t naive.
From the moment he couldn’t get the candles to stay upright, to when wax had burned his hand, and then the near-miss with the cleaver, it all suddenly made sense. The phone flying out of his pocket had saved him, but more than that-it was the image on the screen, the same one Odalys had drawn.
At first, Orson had thought the sketch was simply a hint for him to go look for Oliver. But now, it seemed like that sketch might have saved his life.
He remembered Percival’s words: Odalys does nothing without reason.
Now, Orson was beginning to understand exactly what Percival meant.
“This drawing is a bit rough, but look at the bottom corner. This pattern, when I brought fruit to Odalys’ room, there was a picture on her bedside table that looked just like this,” Evander pointed out.
If Evander hadn’t seen it before, he might have overlooked the connection.
Orson recounted the whole sequence of events, and Evander listened with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“So, Odalys must have sensed I was in danger,” Orson said, his voice softening as realization dawned. “She tried to save me without saying a word. She must have drawn this picture to catch my attention. If I took a photo of it, it meant I would survive the danger. But if I had just walked away without noticing… my hand would have been sliced off.”
Orson’s voice almost cracked with the weight of what he had narrowly avoided. “I almost lost my hands… and with it, the entire Lark family legacy. My line, my family’s future-all of it, gone.” He still couldn’t quite believe it.
It felt… almost like some kind of dark omen.
At that moment, Evander’s phone buzzed. The name “Odalys” flashed on the screen.
Orson and Evander exchanged a quick look, their expressions filled with unspoken understanding. Evander picked up the call.
“Grandpa, is Orson alright?” Odalys’ voice came through, sounding calm but with a hint of concern.
The question left both of them in stunned silence.
Evander and Orson locked eyes. Orson had never been more amazed and unnerved by how deep Odalys’ foresight seemed to go.
“No worries. He just tripped, and his phone got broken,” Evander replied, his voice steady, though his heart was still racing.
“Odalys, did you know something would happen to me today?” Orson finally blurted out, his voice desperate to know the truth. He could no longer hold it in.
If he didn’t ask now, he would be suffocating with unanswered questions.
“Yes,” Odalys answered, her voice quiet but assured.
The silence in the room thickened. Orson grabbed the phone from Evander’s hand and put it on speakerphone. His voice shook slightly as he asked, “So, Odalys, was that picture you drew meant to test whether I’d notice it?”
He swallowed hard, his nerves still taut. “What if I hadn’t looked at it? What if I just left?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with consequences.
“If you truly cared about the Stewart family, and the matters we’ve discussed, you’d have noticed the drawing and been interested. If you just walked away, it would mean you only care about yourself and overlook the important details. I’ve seen your grandfather, and I’ve seen your faces, Orson. The Lark family isn’t at its end. The Stewart family and the Lark family have been allies for years. Your family’s fortune will see you through this danger. But you need to go to my company and find Evander,” Odalys said, her words wrapped in wisdom.
“And lighting candles for your ancestors counts too,” she added quietly.
Orson’s head was spinning. It was all coming together-the candles, the picture, the phone, the near-death experience.
Sometimes, the smallest actions could have monumental consequences. To others, lighting a candle might seem like an insignificant gesture, but for those who understood, it was a life- saving act. People called it superstition, but the ones who experienced it knew it was real.
“So if I hadn’t taken the photo? If I hadn’t gone to find Evander? If I hadn’t lit the candles… today, I would have lost my hands, right?” Orson could feel the cold sweat soaking his back.
His voice shook as he asked, the fear creeping in.
“Yes, but I knew you wouldn’t ignore it,” Odalys replied, her tone reassuring.
“Everyone has their own karma, something that others cannot interfere with. If a calamity is survived, there will be blessings ahead. But once people interfere, things may take an unexpected turn. That’s why I couldn’t be upfront with Orson about what happened earlier.”
Odalys spoke quietly, her voice laced with an almost philosophical calmness.
“Yes,” she nodded in response to Orson’s question, confirming his suspicions. “I wasn’t just having coffee with you to pass the time, I was buying us some time while keeping an eye on Henry’s car.”
Orson, who had been under the impression that their meeting was a simple casual coffee, sank heavily to the ground in shock. He hadn’t expected so many layers to the situation.
“This is your karma, Orson,” Odalys continued with a calm, almost detached tone. “You have to face and bear it. I can’t warn you, nor should I. If I had told you outright, you might have avoided the calamity, but it would have come back to you double. The next time you face such a trial, it could be even worse, potentially even overturning your entire life. That’s how karma works.”
She paused and gave a small, reassuring smile, her eyes softening as she looked at Orson.
“But you’re fortunate,” she added, “so you’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about it too much.”
“Thank you, Odalys,” Orson said, his voice cracking with gratitude. If not for her, he would never have come here. He wouldn’t have lit the candles. He might have…
He glanced at his wrist, where a perfect scar would have been if not for the intervention of fate. He shuddered. That knife was so close.
“No need to thank me,” Odalys said, and with that, she hung up.
Orson tried to stand, his legs weak from the shock. But as he did, something caught his eye -a figure running toward him. A butcher, of all people, muttering as he came closer. “Where’s the knife?” he grumbled, his eyes scanning the room.
Chapter 436
”My butcher’s knife-where’s my butcher’s knife? I was just holding it, how did it fly out of my hand like that?” The man scratched his head, bewildered.
He’d been slaughtering pigs for years, his grip on the knife always steady. But today, for some reason, just as he was about to chop through the bone, the blade had flown out of his hand, whistling through the air, vanishing in an instant. “Is this it?” Orson asked curtly, irritated.
He held out his phone, and the butcher, still staring in shock, saw the knife embedded squarely in the center of the phone’s screen. The butcher’s eyes went wide. Seeing Orson’s polished appearance, he immediately knew the phone wasn’t cheap, and that his knife had just ruined it.
He was in serious trouble.
“Y-yeah, that’s my knife… Did I break your phone? How much is it? I’ll pay for it, I… I’ll pay for it!” The butcher stammered, panic creeping into his voice.
He fumbled for his own phone, clearly nervous, but Orson waved it off.
After pulling the knife free from the shattered screen, Orson looked down at the now blacked- out phone, then handed the knife back to the butcher.
“No need,” Orson said flatly. “I was thinking of getting a new phone anyway. Just keep your knife steady next time, or someone’s going to lose more than just their phone.”
The butcher grabbed the knife back, visibly relieved. His face contorted with gratitude, and he bowed repeatedly, his voice shaking.
“You’re… you’re truly a great man. I’m so sorry, thank you, thank you!” He kept muttering as he hurried away, as if afraid Orson might change his mind.
Orson watched him go, then turned to Evander, locking eyes.
“I’ll go light another candle for my ancestors,” Orson said, his voice calmer now, but the weight of the near-miss still hung in the air.
He made his way toward Odalys’ company building. Once inside, he washed his hands and picked up a candle. Lighting it, he stood still for a moment, bowing several times in reverence. As he placed the candle in its holder, it stood firm, perfectly balanced.
Orson’s throat tightened as he stared at the steady flame.
“Thank you… to my ancestors… and thank you, Odalys,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice filled with a mix of awe and gratitude.
Evander stood behind him, silently observing, offering no comment.
After a few moments, Orson didn’t linger. He turned on his heel, walking briskly out of the building, heading straight for his car.
Inside the company, Dorian finished arranging the paper money and then turned to Evander, asking quietly, “Evander, do you think Orson is just… lucky?”
“Luck?” Evander’s tone was heavy. “No, it’s more than that. If that butcher’s knife had hit him directly, it would have sliced through his wrist, maybe even his chest. When the knife flew, it had a lot of force behind it. And that butcher’s knife is sharper than your average blade. It’s designed to cut through thick bone, so once it landed, it would’ve dropped right into his chest.” Evander paused for a moment, clearly shaken by the close call.
“Orson’s lucky, yes, but there’s something more at play here.”
Dorian nodded slowly, clearly impressed by how Evander saw the situation. “Seems like Odalys is always looking out for him,” he remarked with a sigh, a bit of awe in his voice.
After his close call with a catfishing scam, and seeing how Odalys had helped him personally, Dorian had become one of her most devoted supporters. Now, every day he helped Evander manage things at the company, even folding paper money for the rituals.
“She is,” Evander muttered, a hint of sadness in his voice. “A kind soul. But it’s a shame… the Bennett family doesn’t know how to appreciate her.”
Dorian fell silent, his anger toward the Bennett family palpable.
Even as an outsider, he could see how wrong they had treated Odalys. It made him burn with indignation.
“I hope this all ends soon,” Evander added, looking out the window with a quiet sigh.
Outside, the sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow across the landscape as if trying to chase away the lingering darkness.
In Crownridge, Odalys sat in the driver’s seat of her car, her fingers wrapped tightly around her phone. She sat there for a long moment before finally hanging up the call.
Her eyes were cold, her thoughts distant. As she turned her head toward the sunlight streaming through the window, the light refracted in a perfect circle, casting a soft halo across her face.
“Percival,” she whispered, her lips barely moving. She seemed lost in thought, as if waiting for something-or perhaps sensing something was about to happen.
For the first time in a long while, uncertainty crept into her heart. A strange unease filled her chest, something she couldn’t quite explain. She exhaled slowly, almost in discomfort, as though a heavy weight was pressing on her.
Percival’s hurried departure that morning still echoed in her mind, his words ringing in her ears. “I’m going to the Simpson villa. Wait for me to come back.”
Her eyes closed briefly as she exhaled, trying to shake the strange feeling clinging to her.
And then, just as her breath slowed, she caught sight of something unexpected. A familiar figure, head down, passing by her car, nearly brushing against it.
“That old man?” Odalys murmured, her voice tinged with surprise.
She had given Percival explicit instructions to let Callum be “careless” and remove the guards watching over that elderly man. As a result, the door to his hidden basement had been opened. And last night, that old man had escaped.
Ever since the revolting old man’s death, Odalys’ sense of unease had only deepened. His passing had felt like a signal, a harbinger that things were far from over.
The mysterious elderly tailor carried with him an aura of something dark, something foreboding.
Despite his age, he moved quickly, his steps brisk, purposeful.
Odalys remembered his forehead, darkened with the weight of misfortune. Although he had pretended to mourn the death of his son, she had seen through his act.
She’d told Percival about this man before-this grandfatherly figure who seemed to have no heirs, yet, somehow, his bloodline was not so easily severed.
He had been absent from Crownridge for years, after shutting down his century-old tailor shop. But upon the death of Percival’s father, he had returned to his mountain village. And as though tragedy was following him, his wife, daughter-in- law, and grandson had all met untimely, violent ends.
There was something strange about all of it. A few days ago, in Film Capital, she had encountered a general who had died in battle centuries ago-his entire family slain under a false accusation. The feeling she had sensed in his presence had been eerily familiar. It was the same ominous aura that hung over the elderly tailor.
“So, who are you really?” Odalys said thought darkly, her voice cold as she muttered the question aloud.
As she spoke, the signet ring on her hand grew suddenly warm, almost painfully so.
She glanced down at it, her brows furrowing in confusion.
With a quiet breath, she started the engine and followed the old man’s rapid steps from a distance, keeping her distance as he moved quickly ahead. He glanced over his shoulder cautiously, scanning for any signs of danger, before turning into a corner and disappearing from view.
The mystery deepened.
Chapter 437
Odalys didn’t get out of the car to follow him. Instead, she stayed seated, watching as the old man’s figure vanished around the corner. A few seconds later, he reappeared, stepping out from the same bend.
Odalys smirked coldly, observing his cautious movements.
“She knew he was testing for a tail. If someone had been following him, they would have rushed to catch up when he disappeared, only to collide with him the moment he reappeared. But when the man emerged and saw no one behind him, it was clear he confirmed no one had been on his trail.
Only then did he stride confidently toward a narrow alley.
“Odalys stepped out of the car, moving swiftly behind him. As he entered a courtyard and closed the door behind him, Odalys halted. Her foot hovered in mid-air before retracting.
She stood in the shadows, inspecting the courtyard. It wasn’t just an ordinary place-it was protected by a powerful barrier. Any intruder who came too close would trigger a lethal force, and anyone inside would immediately sense it, forcing them to flee.
“Interesting,” Odalys murmured, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “So, you’ve got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought. To think that after all these years, you’ve still got a place to land here in Crownridge.”
Earlier, when she had deliberately approached him, she had assumed he was loyal to the Stewart family-someone she could manipulate into believing she trusted him completely. Percival’s appearance in the mountain village had made him feel smug, thinking his plans were working perfectly.
But neither she nor Percival had been fooled. They had seen through his facade long ago. All of it–his son’s death, which seemed like an accident-was likely part of his own twisted scheme to garner sympathy and lower others’ guards.
Now, standing at the edge of the courtyard, Odalys took a talisman from her pocket. With a few quick, practiced strokes in the air, she tossed it toward the barrier.
The moment the talisman touched the barrier, the wards around the place were momentarily undone, opening a hidden door. Odalys stepped forward, her presence concealed, moving quickly into the courtyard.
From the outside, the place seemed ordinary. But Odalys could sense the intricate array of formations in place. The items scattered around -what appeared to be mere decorations-were actually arranged according to the sacred mirror array. Any slight disturbance, any wrong move, and the entire formation would activate, trapping anyone inside. The consequences would be fatal.
She had encountered such deadly arrays before, but it was rare to see one in Crownridge. Yet here it was.
She entered, standing near the entrance. The old man, now inside, turned back sharply, his eyes scanning the space. “Who’s there?” he called, his voice wary.
He stepped toward the door, scanning the area outside. When he saw no one, he was visibly unsettled.
“What’s going on? Why do I keep feeling like someone’s watching me, yet I can’t see anyone? Could someone have used an invisibility talisman? No, that’s impossible-today’s people don’t even understand the basics of these arts,” the old man muttered to himself, his brow furrowed.
There was no trace of mourning on his face-no sign of grief for the son he had just lost. Instead, there was only cold calculation and a look of cruel resolve.
Not bothering to linger, he quickly shut the door behind him and left in a hurry, walking as though he were fleeing for his life.
Odalys followed silently, keeping a safe distance until he exited the alley. Only then did she return to her car.
‘To set up such a secretive array in a back alley like this in Crownridge,’ she reflected, her mind sharp. ‘And yet he’s been hiding away in his mountain village, playing the victim.’
Her thoughts shifted, deeper and darker. “Could the visions I saw in Edie’s consciousness have something to do with him?”
She thought of the strange power in Sophia’s body. ‘What’s the connection between him, Edie, and Sophia?’
‘And if he knows Sophia, why did she never even acknowledge him during that variety show? She went after that disgusting Rafael, but never once crossed paths with this man.’
Odalys sank into thought, her mind racing.
Her instincts were always sharp-she could feel something was off with these people, but their fates had clearly been tampered with. It was impossible to read through the layers of manipulation.
Everything seemed to be part of a larger, preordained plan. What she saw was only a surface-level illusion.
So, Odalys didn’t jump to conclusions. Instead, she followed the trail step by step, unraveling the web bit by bit, forcing them to reveal their true nature.
Some people might rush to judgment, mistaking appearances for the truth. But those who acted too hastily often ended up walking right into someone else’s trap-sometimes paying the ultimate price.
Having travelled through times, Odalys understood the value of her life. She wasn’t about to throw it away recklessly.
As she started her car to leave, a sudden sharp pain in her chest made her pause.
“Percival’s in trouble?” Her mind reeled, disbelief washing over her.
She almost couldn’t believe it. Looking up, she noticed the sun had been suddenly obscured by dark clouds. The air around her seemed to shift, as though a storm was brewing. It felt like everything was closing in on her. In that moment, Odalys was almost thrown off balance.
Her eyes, now cold and sharp, seemed to freeze the very air around her.
In a remote, decaying town, the once-thriving buildings were now long abandoned. The air was thick with the calls of crows, and shadows flitted through the ruins.
“Mr. Stewart, something’s off here,” Callum remarked, glancing around with unease.
He surveyed the area, which resembled a desolate burial ground. Blood, dried and cracked, stained the earth, and fragments of bodies littered the ground.
Percival stood calmly, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked around with the detached demeanor of someone who had expected this all along. His gaze swept over the surroundings like a god surveying the world he had created. “As I suspected,” he muttered. “This place was once a bustling town, but something went terribly wrong. The people here died, and now it’s a burial ground-a place no one dares approach anymore.”
He stepped forward, completely unfazed. “The Simpson villa-the location is correct, but this is a cursed ground. The negative energy here is heavy. The Simpson family had no idea I’d come here. They never realized the danger in this place.” Callum, trying to match Percival’s calm demeanor, immediately understood the gravity of the situation.
He said, “Looks like the Simpson villa has more secrets than we thought. As Odalys suspected, the Simpson family is hiding something, but it’s Quinton who seems to be at the center of it. We don’t know much about him. He’s the one who runs the Simpson family, but rarely shows himself, never interacts with people from our circle.”
Percival’s lips curved slightly, an edge of coldness in his voice. “The more elusive someone is, the more likely they’re hiding something. He might not even be human.” Callum shivered involuntarily at the words.
“Not human?” He blinked in confusion, his voice faltering. “You mean-he’s not human? But he came to the Stewart family once, and that was in broad daylight.”
A cold smile tugged at the corner of Percival’s lips. “And when was the last time you saw a true heir to a family who never celebrated his birth, never held a party, never mingled with people in the circles he should have? The Simpson family doesn’t even entertain guests.”
Chapter 438
Percival’s voice was calm, but his words sent a ripple through the air. “No one dares go near the Simpson villa to this day. Every time Edie returns home, she has to report to the Simpson family first. And when she comes back from there, her demeanor is always… off.
“You might think it’s because she married into the Stewart family and started acting strange, putting on airs. But in reality, it’s every time she returns from the Simpson family that her mood shifts so drastically.”
Callum froze for a moment.
These were things he had never considered, things that had always stayed in the back of his mind but never fully examined.
After all, Edie was Percival’s mother, and as a loyal assistant, Callum had never dared to question her behavior. He had always assumed her eccentricities were part of the family dynamics.
But hearing Percival lay it out so plainly, he realized the truth.
“So, Mr. Stewart, you’ve suspected all along that she and the Simpson family are involved in something?” Callum asked, his voice thick with surprise. He had no idea.
What he did know was that Percival and Edie had never gotten along. There was always tension, with Percival keeping his distance, sometimes even manipulating her, but never confronting her directly. Callum had always found it odd. He and Orson had speculated, but both had been at a loss for answers.
“I thought you were cautious of her because she was using the Stewart family’s resources to prop up the Simpson family and disrupt the market. Plus, she always seemed indifferent to you and Evander, even cold at times. Looks like I’ve been blind to the bigger picture,” Callum admitted, scratching his head awkwardly.
“You’re not blind, Callum,” Percival said quietly. “It’ s just that I deliberately created an illusion. The fewer people who know the truth, the better. If she suspects anything, I’m not too worried. But if my grandfather gets involved, things could get dangerous. Now that she’s distanced herself from the Stewart family, the public view of her is awful. Even if she wanted to make a move against us, she’d be unable to do so.”
Callum fell silent, digesting the implications.
“This place is heavy with negative energy. The Simpson family’s ancestral home is here, but this is also a burial ground. I suspect the location itself has been tainted,” Percival continued, his eyes scanning the fog around them.
He reached up, instinctively brushing his fingers against the red string wrapped around his wrist. A gift from Odalys, made from thunderstruck wood, it was something he had always treasured. The item’s comforting presence grounded him, as though Odalys herself were standing by his side.
“You’ll stay close to me,” Percival said, his voice firm. “No matter what happens, don’t stray more than three steps behind me.”
Callum nodded without hesitation, sensing the seriousness in Percival’s tone.
“Mr. Stewart,” Callum ventured cautiously, glancing at the red string, “if this talisman can ward off evil, does that mean we’ll be safe here?” Percival gave a small shrug. “Maybe. But safety’ s never a guarantee in places like this.”
They walked forward, and the mist grew denser with each step, thick and suffocating. Percival swung his hand, dispelling the fog in an instant. He looked at his wrist, startled by what he saw.
“The fog… it was fake,” Percival muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.
If the mist was an illusion, then everything they were seeing could be a facade.
They continued forward, but just a few steps in, they heard the unmistakable cawing of crows. The creatures flapped their wings furiously, swooping toward them.
“Get lost!” Percival’s voice boomed with authority.
His deep, magnetic voice sent the crows scattering in a frenzy, their screeching quickly fading into the distance.
“Mr. Stewart, our bodyguards are missing. Their tracker signals have all gone dark,” Callum reported, checking his phone, only to find the screen filled with blacked-out locations.
Before he could react, Percival grabbed his arm, yanking him out of the way just as a massive stone hurtled toward where Callum had been standing.
The ground shook with a violent thud as the stone struck, splitting the earth beneath it.
Callum froze, his heart racing. He drew his gun, scanning their surroundings, his senses on high alert. “Mr. Stewart, this place is too dangerous.”
“Get back,” Percival ordered coldly.
Callum instinctively stepped in front of Percival, blocking him with his own body. But just as he finished speaking, a cold hand rested on his shoulder.
His breath caught, and he looked down to see a pale, delicate hand brushing lightly over his shoulder. The nails were painted a vibrant red, and the fingertips danced sensually across his skin.
“Where are you going, handsome?” A woman’s sultry voice whispered in his ear.
His body stiffened with shock and anger. He spun around, ready to lash out, only to find himself face-to-face with a stunning woman, her clothing minimal and seductive, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling hunger.
“What the hell do you want?” Callum growled, shoving his leg toward her.
But before he could react further, she seized his leg, pulling him toward her. She planted a soft kiss on his thigh, her hands teasing at the edges of her coat as she slowly disrobed, revealing a tight-fitting tank top that accentuated her every
curve.
“How about this?” she purred, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “If you kill Percival, I’ll be yours.”
Callum’s heart raced. The woman’s fingers grazed his abdomen before settling on his chest. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, but it was only when her body pressed against his, her lips brushing against his ear, that he felt the full weight of her threat.
“Being someone’s subordinate isn’t a good feeling, is it?” she whispered. “How about I kill him for you? You can take his place as the Stewart family’s heir. What do you say?”
Callum’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the gun hidden at his side. He didn’t hesitate. In a single, swift movement, he swung a heavy stone at her head.
“To hell with your power games,” he muttered, disgusted by the entire situation.
He was temporarily stunned by the sudden closeness and the overwhelming tension of the moment. But the woman wasn’t done. Before he could make another move, she leaned in, exhaling a strange, sickly smoke directly into his face.
Callum’s mind went fuzzy. He staggered back, but before he could react, his vision blurred and his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. As he lay there, struggling to stay conscious, a gust of cold wind rushed past him. Percival turned, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Callum’ s sudden disappearance.
In the distance, a figure moved gracefully through the fog. Her dress, almost ethereal, floated around her as she undid each piece with slow, deliberate movements.
“Who’s there?” Percival called, his voice cutting through the air.
The woman turned, her face a perfect mix of elegance and mystery. Her features were delicate, her lips parted in surprise, and her wide eyes locked onto Percival’s, innocent yet full of hidden intentions.
Chapter 439
”Odalys?” Percival’s voice faltered as he saw her. He instinctively took a step toward her, watching as Odalys stood there, her small hands clasped in front of her, covering the exposed parts of her delicate figure. She took a cautious step back, and in the next moment, with a loud splash, she fell into the pool.
Water splashed in every direction.
Without thinking, Percival reached out to pull her out, but before he could, she grabbed his arm, dragging him into the water with her. Her body wrapped around his waist, but he quickly twisted, pinning her down.
“Percival.” Her voice, soft and melodic, called his name.
She looked at him with an innocent yet seductive gaze, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, as though she were tempting him. Percival’s throat tightened, his sharp features hardening. His piercing gaze locked onto her face, and his lips curled into a cold, contemptuous smile.
“Are you trying to die?” Percival’s voice was like ice, his words cutting through the air.
With one swift motion, he gripped her neck, lifting her effortlessly from the water.
Before she could react, Percival’s wrist, wrapped in the red string of thunderstruck wood that Odalys had given him, swung toward her throat.
She looked at him, utterly shocked by his ruthless reaction.
“Odalys would never shamelessly seduce me,” Percival muttered with disdain.
The woman’s hands clawed at her throat in agony as she screamed, but the surroundings suddenly shifted. The pool disappeared, replaced by a grassy field, and the woman’s figure vanished with it, leaving behind only a pool of blood on the ground.
Percival crouched down and dipped his fingers into the blood, bringing them to his nose and sniffing.
“It’s blood. It seems this place, though it appears to be a burial ground, is being manipulated. Everything here is an illusion,” Percival thought to himself, relieved that his composure had held. If he had faltered, he might have fallen into the trap.
He didn’t dare let his guard down. Standing still, he breathed deeply, scanning the area around him.
A moment ago, he and Callum had been standing in the same spot, but now, the scene had changed completely. The illusion had separated them. If they weren’t careful, they might lose their lives.
“Callum!” Percival called urgently, his voice echoing in the now empty air.
His calls reverberated through the eerie silence, but there was no answer.
Percival held his breath, his senses sharpened. He took a quick look around, then walked forward with purpose. His footsteps were firm and measured, as if he had found the right direction.
With each step he took, the mist began to vanish. With a sudden explosion, Percival pressed a button on his phone, and the ground beneath them erupted, blasting a path through the burial ground.
As the fog dissipated, a massive mansion appeared in front of them. It stood in the open space, its surroundings barren-no trees, no flowers, as if life itself had been drained from it. Percival clenched his fist, stepping forward with determination. He kicked open the heavy doors. With a loud creak, the red doors flew open, and Percival’s eyes locked onto a familiar figure standing under the moonlight, holding a coffee cup, taking a sip.
The man turned slowly, his eyes meeting Percival’s with recognition.
“Father?” Percival’s voice faltered in disbelief.
The man before him looked exactly as he had at thirty, still tall and fit, dressed in a black shirt and trousers, exuding the same confident aura. He raised his hand and beckoned Percival.
“Percival, is that you? Come here, let your father take a good look at you,” the man said, his voice warm.
Percival strode forward almost at a run, his feet carrying him towards the figure that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
He stopped in front of the man, looking at him in disbelief. their bond.
The coffee cup still in his hand, the man’s smile was gentle. There was a faint scar on his face, one Percival knew all too well. It was from a car accident when he was a child, when his father had shielded him from the crash.
The scar, though faint, had never been treated- it was left there as a reminder of His father had always told him to keep the scar, as it was a symbol of their father-son connection.
Percival stared at the scar, his heart heavy. The man before him, his father, who had been dead for over a decade, now stood there, as real as ever.
The coffee cup was the same one his father used to love-the one Percival had seen him drink from countless times when he was a child.
”Dad,” Percival choked out, his throat dry, his voice barely above a whisper. He called out softly, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter this fragile moment.
He stood there, watching his father turn away, moving to the side to pour him a cup of coffee, then handing it to him.
“It’s been so long since we had coffee together, Percival,” his father said with a soft smile. “You’ ve grown so much. I never protected you well enough. You’ve had to bear the weight of the Stewart family on your shoulders from such a young age. I’m sorry for that.”
Percival looked down at the coffee, the aroma filling his senses. He brought the cup to his lips and took a deep breath, feeling the warmth seep into him.
He looked up again, and his father was still standing there, staring at him with the same warm smile. But there was something odd in the air, something that didn’t feel right. His father’s expression shifted, his smile faltering as he turned back to him with a surprised look in his eyes.
“Percival, you’re here? Come, let me have a better look at you,” his father repeated the same line, his voice soft, but the repetition made Percival’s stomach twist.
He stood frozen, the hairs on his neck standing on end. This wasn’t right. The familiarity was too much, but the more he looked, the more it felt off.
It was the same man, yet something had changed. Minutes passed, and Percival watched as his father continued to repeat the same
words over and over.
“Percival, you’re here? Come here, let me see you..
Percival’s grip tightened around the coffee cup. His throat tightened, and the bitterness of the moment settled deep in his chest.
“Someone must have pierced my deepest desire to create this illusion. This… this is my inner demon,” Percival muttered to himself, his voice heavy with sorrow.
Suddenly, a surge of nausea rose in his chest, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. With a sharp, painful motion, he crushed the coffee cup in his hand, shattering it into pieces. The moment the cup shattered, the man before him froze, his face locked in confusion.
He stood there, as if frozen in place, staring at Percival. He opened his mouth to call him again, but before he could speak, his body disintegrated with a loud crash, fading into nothingness.
“Father…” Percival called out softly, his voice filled with pain as he watched the illusion dissipate.
The yard remained, but the air had become thick with something unnatural, a seductive fragrance wafting through the air. It was laced with danger, as though the illusion was still alive, watching him.
Percival’s hand was burning in his pocket. He quickly reached in and pulled out a talisman, its warmth almost scalding in his palm.
His heart skipped a beat.
It was a talisman from Odalys-he recognized the writing. She had placed it in his coat this morning.
The talisman was pulsing with heat, its energy radiating with a strange power.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang, trapping him inside. The negative energy surged toward him, from all directions, suffocating and overwhelming. Percival held his breath, standing firm as the talisman ignited in his hand. Golden light erupted from it, and the energy around him exploded outward in all directions.
In the blink of an eye, the negative energy dissipated.
At that moment, the door was kicked open, and a tall, familiar figure stormed inside. She stood just a few feet away, calling his name. “Percival.” The voice was unmistakable. Percival turned sharply, his eyes locking with hers.
Chapter 440
Seeing the concern in Odalys’ eyes, Percival shot her a wary glance before he stepped forward, grasping her wrist and pulling her toward the exit.
“There’s something wrong here. We need to get out, now,” he said firmly.
As they moved toward the door, the red gates slammed shut with a loud bang just as they were about to leave.
Percival froze, his gaze locked on the door.
“This door’s different. It’s not the same one we came in through,” he said quickly, piecing things together. “This place is shifting… moving.”
Odalys’s wrist remained firmly in his grip, and he made no move to let go. He stepped in front of her protectively, shielding her from whatever danger loomed.
“Wait a minute,” he suddenly remembered something and turned to her. “How did you even get here?”
Odalys glanced at him, then pointed to his coat pocket. “I put a talisman in your pocket this morning,” she said casually. “The talisman is infused with my energy.”
“So, whenever you’re in danger, I can sense it.”
Percival fell silent as he processed her words.
“Then how did you know it wasn’t me tempting you earlier?” she asked, her curiosity piqued, her tone light despite the heavy situation.
Women, it seemed, could never resist the urge to ask about things like this, no matter how dangerous the situation.
“You would never do something like that,” Percival replied, feeling slightly embarrassed.” And even if you did try to seduce me, you’d never do it in a place like this.”
Odalys burst out laughing, unable to hold it back any longer.
She wrenched her wrist from his grasp and stood on tiptoe, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What if I did choose a place like this?”
Percival’s heart skipped a beat as she came closer, her face drawing nearer to his. He felt his pulse quicken, and despite his usual control, his body betrayed him, a wave of desire flashing through him.
He swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool, but the intensity of the moment made it harder to control himself. His eyes darkened, and he could feel the temptation clawing at him. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to give in.
“Odalys, stop playing around,” he said, his voice low but strained, as he placed his hands around her waist, gently holding her back.
She looked up at him, the playful smirk still on her lips. “I’m not playing. I’m just curious,” she said, her finger lightly touching his lips.
“Her touch was cold as ice, sending a shiver down his spine, but at the same time, it felt as though her finger carried with it a force of its own.
With a subtle push, she dispelled the negative energy that had been pressing in on them, clearing the air around them with an invisible force.
A sudden bang echoed through the house, and the air seemed to explode with energy.
The entire mansion shook, and the oppressive mist and dark energy surrounding them evaporated in an instant.
Without a word, Odalys turned and strode confidently toward the mansion’s interior, while Percival followed closely behind.
She walked over to a table where a coffee cup sat, still undisturbed. Odalys gazed at it thoughtfully, her expression complex. She picked it up, examining the dried remnants of coffee inside. She sniffed the cup, her face tightening.
“I just had a hallucination. I thought I saw my father,” Percival quickly explained, his words tumbling out. “It felt so real.”
He described the strange events that had just occurred, and Odalys listened carefully, not interrupting.
She handed the coffee cup back to him. “This cup is real,” she said, her voice calm. “It still holds your father’s scent. The hallucination you experienced wasn’t just a trick. Your father’s attachment to you was so strong that even after his death, he couldn’t move on. He’s been stuck, repeating the same actions over and over again, waiting for you to come back home.
“He doesn’t even realize he’s dead. He’s trapped in the memory of waiting for you to grow up, to come back to him.”
Percival’s grip tightened on the cup, his thoughts churning. He stared at the intricate patterns on the ceramic, his mind racing.
This was his father’ s favorite coffee cup-there was no mistaking it. He had seen it countless times during his childhood.
But how could it be here? He remembered it being placed in his father’s coffin when he buried him all those years ago.
“This cup-this was buried with my father,” he said, his voice tight with disbelief. “How could it be here? And if he’s waiting for me… why is he here? Why would he be stuck in this place?”
Odalys studied him carefully, her expression serious. “It’s possible that someone swapped your father’s body. I can sense his presence, and this place is saturated with negative energy-it’s the perfect place for spirits to get trapped. There’s a heavy air of resentment here, full of restless souls. It’s no wonder no one dares to live here; it’s a haunted burial ground.”
She paused, then continued. “I suspect someone is trying to trap your father’s soul here, preventing him from moving on and using his attachment to you to keep him tethered. His love for you has kept him in this place, endlessly waiting for you to return.”
As Odalys spoke, she stepped forward, raising her foot and casually swinging it to the side.
With a soft creak, the door to the living room, which had previously been tightly shut, opened with a sudden echo.
Inside, the furniture was covered in dust, but every piece looked like an antique-each item appeared to tell the story of past grandeur and the status that had once reigned here. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of history.
“This place is decorated exactly like my family’s old house,” Percival said, astonished.
He couldn’t believe someone had managed to recreate the exact interior of the Stewart Villa so faithfully. It was almost unbelievable.
“The Stewart Villa? I’ve been there before, but I don’t remember seeing this kind of arrangement,” Odalys remarked, puzzled.
She had visited the Stewart Villa a few times with Percival. The old house had a certain age to it, but this place was nothing like what she remembered.
“This room is the section that houses our ancestral tablet offerings. You’ve never been to that part of the Stewart Villa, so naturally, you haven’t seen it. This space is exactly the same as the section where we offer to our ancestors,” Percival explained.
“Even the antiques are the same age.”
The Stewart family was never short of antiques, so Percival could easily spot real from fake.
But what was truly strange was that everything in this room was authentic.
These weren’t just expensive reproductions; they were genuine pieces. It was hard to believe that anyone could have such an extensive collection of real antiques, especially to keep them in a place like this-something resembling a forgotten tomb.
“Interesting,” Odalys murmured, her smile deepening as she listened to Percival.
If it were just an ordinary situation, it wouldn’t hold her interest. But the way things were unfolding felt increasingly bizarre. It was as though someone had been setting up the pieces long before, orchestrating it all from behind the scenes.
“To have found the exact replica of the Stewart Villa’s ancestral offerings space, complete with the same era of antiques, and not rushed to sell them but instead kept them hidden away in a place like this… It speaks volumes,” Odalys continued, her eyes glinting with intrigue.
“And then there’s the fact that this place carries the unmistakable presence of your father. Someone here clearly knows the Stewart family inside and out-knows exactly what’s happening, even when you’ll show up here.”
“You told me this morning that you were coming to the Simpson Villa. Yet here, among the offerings and antiques, is a space identical to the one in the Stewart Villa. This only deepens the connection between the Stewart family and the Simpson family. The enmity between the two families… What are you really after, Percival?” Odalys added, her voice laced with suspicion.
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