Chapter 461
Orson was getting more excited by the second. He jumped up from the sofa, practically bounding over to Odalys, his hands shaking as he held his coffee cup.
“Odalys,” he said, barely containing his enthusiasm, “Do you think Sophia’s fake pregnancy-thanks to the pills you gave her-will trigger something in Finnian?”
Orson didn’t know much about magic, but when it came to men and human nature, he had some inkling.
“Isn’t it just a perfect setup for them? Windsor, Hannah, and Finnian will definitely have… different thoughts once they find out she’s pregnant,” Orson said, practically bouncing on his toes.
“From a more sinister angle, some people like to ‘ tame’ unborn children. These children, not yet born, don’t have human nature.
Whoever raises them can control them, making them loyal. If they pick the right moment, they could even turn into something evil.”
“That kind of thing happened in the past, though most people don’t dare do it anymore. Still, we can’t rule out that they might try,” Odalys explained calmly, her voice steady, as though this was a mere matter of fact.
Orson’s eyes widened in realization as he took in her words. He placed his coffee cup down, leaning in eagerly. Gone was the usual cold demeanor-now he looked like a fanboy desperate to hear more.
“What if they end up killing Sophia?” Orson asked, his tone suddenly worried.
If she died, it would make things a lot less fun.
“Over a decade ago, Sophia was skinned and had her bones scraped before being sent to the Bennett family for adoption. And all these years, someone has been using magic to protect her, so it’s clear she’s got someone backing her.”
“Looking at the situation now, Sophia knows there’s someone helping her from behind, but she doesn’t know why she was sent to the Bennett family in the first place. In other words, she’s just a puppet who hasn’t been awakened yet.”
“Do you think the person behind her would let anyone kill her?” Odalys said, her tone cold and matter-of-fact. “And now that Windsor, Hannah, and Finnian are all so interested in Love Spell, that’s enough of a reason to use them. As long as we tap into their energy, we can figure out who’s behind the Love Spell. As for everything else, we just wait and watch.”
Her analysis was calm and collected-much more so than most people in her position.
“True,” Orson murmured, nodding. “Letting the prey come to us is probably the smartest move. It’s saving us a lot of time and effort.”
His eyes, glittering like stars, locked onto her with unspoken admiration, as if he could gaze into her for an eternity.
“Come eat,” Percival’s voice suddenly cut through the air, interrupting their conversation.
Odalys’ stomach growled loudly in response, betraying her. The mouthwatering aroma of food wafted into the room, making her stomach rumble even more.
She hurried to the dining table, only to find Percival had already set out a feast. There was beef, sautéed shrimp, steamed crab, braised pork ribs, spicy-sour shredded potatoes, chicken, and, to top it off, a bowl of rich rib soup.
“So much delicious food? Did Dorian cook it?” Odalys asked, unable to hide her excitement, her mouth watering.
Percival watched her with a knowing smile, clearly entertained by her obvious hunger. He handed her a plate and fork, then served her half a bowl of soup before pulling out a chair for her to sit.
“No,” he replied with a smile. “When I arrived, Freya and the others were out filming. I figured you might still be sleeping, so I made you some food.”
Odalys took a bite of the ribs, looking at him in stunned surprise. Her eyes flicked between him and the spread on the table.
“You made this?” she asked, incredulous.
She had assumed he’d had Dorian pack it from the Stewart Villa. She never imagined he’d made it all himself.
“I thought you could use something good to eat,” Percival replied simply.
Orson, who had been watching quietly, leaned forward in his chair, his chin propped in his hand as he studied the two of them.
“Odalys,” Orson said with a grin, “You don’t know this, but after you went out last night, Percival was so worried he nearly lost his cool. He was afraid you hadn’t slept, that you’d been up all night, and your body couldn’t take it. So, first thing this morning, he rushed over here.”
He continued, before Odalys could even react,’ Once he found you were asleep, he sat in the car handling company matters, then calculated the right time to make you this meal.”
Odalys felt a sudden pang of guilt. She quickly grabbed some chicken for Percival and placed it on his plate.
“Thank you for the food, and sorry for making you worry. You’ve worked hard,” she said, smiling as she served him.
Percival accepted it all with a quiet nod, clearly enjoying her attentions. Every time she served him, he simply accepted, wordlessly grateful. Orson took a sip of his soup, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the two of them interact. “By the way,” Percival spoke again, “Dangelo and Mr. Tillery have gathered all the major families in Crownridge. They’ve laid out the timeline of Oliver’s interactions and all the things he’s done.” “They’ve all become more vigilant now, worried that Oliver might target their energy fields or their people.”
“Everyone with serious illnesses has been sent to the Lark family’s doctors for treatment. They took blood samples last night for testing. The results haven’t come in yet,” Percival said, giving Odalys a brief rundown.
He was always transparent with her about the situation around them.
“Once the test results come in, we’ll see if the illnesses share any similar pathogens,” Odalys suggested, her voice calm and collected.
Percival handed her the files, and as she ate, she flipped through them, completely absorbed in her reading.
Percival silently served her more food, noticing when she got too busy to take a bite herself, and would gently lift a piece of food to her lips.
Odalys would open her mouth instinctively, letting him feed her.
Orson watched this scene unfold, his gaze flickering between them. He couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation twist in his chest. To see Percival feeding a woman like this, and so naturally too… It was surreal.
“But some families still don’t quite buy into what Dangelo and Harvey are saying. They’ve stayed neutral, worried that the Drake and Tillery families are trying to use this to swallow up their companies,” Percival continued.
Odalys glanced at the papers and, after a moment, circled a few names with a pen.
“Is it these families?” she asked, glancing up. Percival looked down at the circled names and then back at her, surprise flashing in his eyes. ” How did you know?”
“I just had a feeling,” Odalys said with a smile, pushing the papers back to him.
After finishing her meal, she leaned back, feeling fully satisfied.
“Would you like some fruit?” Percival asked, ever attentive.
Odalys opened her mouth, but before she could respond, Percival was already standing, walking to the counter to grab slices of watermelon and yellow peaches. He set them down in front of her with a quiet smile.
“There weren’t many fruits nearby, so I just grabbed what I could,” he explained.
“Thank you,” Odalys said, feeling a flood of mixed emotions as she stared at the fruit in front of her.
As her mind wandered, flashes of the previous night came back to her-the memory of herself in a wedding gown standing at the Bridge of Sighs, walking hand in hand with Percival. As they reached the center of the bridge, she turned and caught his gaze-those eyes…
Her heart tightened in her chest.
“Don’t think about it,” Percival’s voice broke through her thoughts, as if he could sense what was going on in her mind.
Odalys managed a faint smile, picking up a piece of watermelon. “That old tailor from the mountain village, he once mentioned his son died at the Bennett Villa.”
Chapter 462
“But his son is dead, his wife, daughter-in-law, and grandson are all dead, yet when I examined him, I didn’t see any signs of his line being completely cut off,” Odalys murmured. “That means he still has descendants. This time, when we captured him and brought him back to Crownridge-well, captured is not the right word -he probably came willingly. He has some connection to the Bennett family. I had suspected he’d return there, but I never imagined it would be this way. The fact that he’s so eager to move back into the Bennett family speaks volumes.”
Odalys bit into a piece of watermelon, her voice a low whisper as the thought lingered in her mind.
“Wait, are you saying his descendants could be related to the Bennett family?” Orson’s attention snapped back, his earlier unease now replaced with heightened interest.
Odalys nodded thoughtfully. “It’s possible. He might appear to have no heirs, but he could be hiding something. Maybe he’s crafted this persona of having no family to mislead others.
“For instance, his public story is that his century- old tailoring shop was shut down, and after being forced back to the mountain village, he now returns to Crownridge, shunned by society.
His son even died tragically right outside the Bennett Villa.
“The night his son died there, I saw something strange-his body dissolved into a foul liquid and seeped into the ground right at the entrance. The Bennett family has always been steeped in negative energy, but the way his son died there, without him ever bringing it up afterward… that’s odd, right?”
Odalys continued, “If your last son dies, you’d think he’d be angry, vengeful, seeking retribution, right? But this man never pursued that. Instead, he kept busy, always moving.
“Also, I found the alley he entered before-it’s the same alley Oliver was seen going into. That means they know each other. Oliver, as you know, is an expert in energy fields, and he can calculate and predict things like no one else.
“If this old man and Oliver know each other, he must be somewhat knowledgeable about this kind of power as well. What’s more, if you don’t look closely, you’d never guess that he doesn’t have any heirs. It’s likely that he has some kind of talisman shielding his true nature, making it hard for people to see through him.”
Orson’s thoughts were racing, and he chewed the watermelon slowly, trying to make sense of everything.
“He has a similar vibe to Sophia,” Odalys continued, her voice cool. “Sophia’s been aided by someone who’s been subtly strengthening her energy and maintaining her appearance. The moment her luck fades, so does her beauty-it all comes undone. And that’s why she’s so eager to sleep with men, or flirt, to absorb their energy and life force. She even uses Love Spell to borrow some of that power.
“Don’t you think it’s eerily similar to what this old man might be doing? Both are using talismans to hide their true intentions.”
Orson paused, digesting the bombshell she had just dropped. “So you’re saying there’s a connection between him and Sophia?” he asked, wide-eyed.
Odalys said, “Yes, but Sophia doesn’t know about it. If that’s the case, we should test him. Let’s feed him the news about Sophia possibly being pregnant and that Finnian has her in his clutches, her life hanging by a thread.”
“That way, we can see who’s really invested in this, who’s the most desperate,” Percival interjected, his voice deep and steady. “This will flush them out and give us a clear shot.”
Odalys smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Exactly. Let’s see who reacts first.”
She took another bite of sweet peach, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. She and Percival exchanged a glance, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.
Their connection felt different now, more charged-perhaps it was the lingering memory of the scene from last night, when they had walked together in wedding attire across the Bridge of Sighs, eyes locked. The emotional bond between them had subtly deepened. Orson, now fully alert and caught up in the excitement, slammed his hands down on the table. “What do I do now?!”
His voice was eager, full of energy. He was practically bouncing in his seat, no longer able to sit still. The prospect of big moves ahead had ignited a fire in him.
Earlier, his grandfather had warned him: “Do whatever it takes to support Odalys, make sure she’s free of any worries, and protect her from exhaustion. She’s the last hope of traditional medicine. She could save so many people, even restore traditional medicine to its peak.”
Clarence, his grandfather, had always believed in the power of traditional medicine. The Lark family had never given up on it, and Odalys’ arrival had rekindled hope. Her expertise had already led to patents being filed under her name, and the Lark family was pushing hard to promote the wonders of traditional medicine. If it made a return, people wouldn’t need to rely on modern medicine anymore, which had ruined so many families- crushing their wealth, ruining lives, and still not managing to save those who were truly suffering. Odalys’ work could change everything, and Orson, driven by his grandfather’s faith, was more determined than ever to see it through. Odalys said, “Right now, there’s nothing to do except keep an eye on Oliver. See what they do next.
“And also, watch how Windsor’s luck continues to decline. After everything goes wrong for him, will he still hold on to the Simpson family? The Simpson family is still hiding and hasn’t shown itself.
“Except for Edie and Henry getting tangled up, the Simpson family seems to have stayed completely out of it,” Odalys said.
The Simpson family really knows how to hold their ground.
If it hadn’t been for the night she and Percival visited the Simpson family, and if she hadn’t seen the terrifying energy field layout of the Simpson family, maybe she wouldn’t have realized just how formidable they were.
No wonder Percival never interacted with the Simpson family.
No wonder he always kept his composure and never alarmed them.
The Simpson family wasn’t as simple as it seemed. The Simpson villa’s address was still at the junction of energy, and the Simpson family’s energy field was very strange. These two things were certainly linked.
“Alright, I’ll have my people keep an eye on them,” Orson quickly agreed.
He took out his phone and messaged his subordinates.
After Odalys finished her fruit, Percival stood up to clean the dishes, and she followed him toward the kitchen. She watched him place the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Percival,” she called in a low voice, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.
Percival turned around, meeting her gaze, and asked, “Hmm?”
“How about we take some time to meet with Edie?” Odalys suggested.
A glint of excitement flashed in her eyes, clearly eager for something.
“Are you trying to probe her mind to figure out why my father doesn’t appear in her thoughts?” Percival seemed to have guessed her intentions.
Odalys quickly nodded in agreement.
Chapter 463
Even though she was composed and mature for her age, Odalys was still only a 20-year-old girl, and like any young woman, she had her playful side.
“You ever noticed if there’s any familial connection between Edie and me?” Percival suddenly asked, catching Odalys off guard.
She blinked, then replied honestly, “I have noticed, but it’s faint and barely there. It disappears quickly.”
Percival wiped his broad hands and then moved toward her. He stood close, his expression thoughtful.
“So, she is indeed my mother,” Percival mused, ” but her consciousness doesn’t seem to carry any memory of my father. Either she’s been possessed by something like Windsor, or… maybe she never loved him, and someone erased her memory.”
Percival’s mind had clearly turned cold on Edie, particularly after suspecting her involvement in his father’s car accident.
There had been a time when he had even considered killing her himself. A woman capable of harming her own husband, ignoring her son, and even attacking the elderly… such a person could only be cruel to the core.
Odalys, sensing his shift in tone, decided to lighten the mood. “So, are you going to go meet her?” she teased, batting her eyelashes.
His gaze softened with affection. He reached over to pat her head and shrugged. “I’ll go.”
At this point, Orson, who had been quietly observing the exchange, couldn’t help but make his exit. “Ahem, I’m off to the hospital to check the test results,” he said, eager to leave before the awkwardness of the situation could drag on any longer.
Orson, however, had other plans. He snapped a quick photo of the scene and immediately sent it to Evander. Along with the photo, he included a small video he’d captured, showing Percival feeding Odalys a bite of food, a moment that made his heart race with excitement.
“Grandpa, do you think things are getting serious between them?” Orson typed quickly, his fingers trembling with the thrill of the gossip he was sending.
Unbeknownst to him, Odalys had silently walked up beside him. She looked down at his phone screen, then glanced over at him with a sly smile. “You’re pretty good at this,” she commented.
Orson froze, his heart pounding. “Well, I was pretty much unmatched in the art of stealth photography back in the day,” he said, trying to save face.
But as he finished his message and looked up, he found himself face-to-face with Odalys, her eyes twinkling mischievously. The awkwardness set in. His entire demeanor froze as he tried to hide his phone in his pocket.
Odalys tilted her head. “Next time, make sure I look better in the photos. You made my face look huge in that one.”
Orson’s face went red.
Percival, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke up. “You overdid it, Orson,” he said with a faint smile. “It looks like you were capturing a kiss between us, but we weren’t actually kissing.”
Orson felt his defenses crumble as he realized that they had caught him red-handed. His face flushed deeper.
“Alright, I’m leaving,” Orson said quickly, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to escape. Odalys, calling out from behind him, couldn’t resist teasing. “What’s the rush? No more photos? Are you sure?”
Hearing her words, Orson took off even faster, almost sprinting out of the room.
Odalys burst into laughter, her eyes sparkling as she watched him flee.
Just as they were about to leave, Stellan walked back in, dressed impeccably in a sharp suit. He looked every bit the handsome young man he was, though there were traces of blood on his face, suggesting he had just come from a rather intense situation.
“Mr. Stewart, could we talk for a moment?” Stellan asked politely, his voice filled with respect. Despite the Drake family’s prominence, they were still nowhere near the level of the Stewart family. Without Odalys’ connection to Percival, Stellan knew they would never have a shot at bridging the gap between the two families.
“Of course,” Percival replied calmly.
He nodded at Odalys, signaling that he would speak with Stellan for a while. “I’ll have a quick chat with him.”
“I’ll go visit the set then,” Odalys said with a casual hand gesture, making her way out of the room.
Once she left, the atmosphere in the hotel room became quieter.
Percival settled down on the sofa, arms draped casually over the armrests, his gaze resting on Stellan with quiet intensity.
Stellan said, “Recently, there’ve been some strange events around the Drake Group,” Stellan began, his tone wary. “Several high-profile business partners from other prominent families have been suddenly reaching out to collaborate
with us.
“My father suspects something’s off. He believes someone’s behind the scenes stirring things up, trying to create the impression that the Drake family is poaching business from other families, making us enemies. If this continues, it will create friction and distrust among the other families.
“They may even start to suspect that we orchestrated the gathering of all the families and that Oliver’s involvement is part of some scheme.
“My mother’s tried investigating, but there’s no clear evidence of any external influence-it’s as if this is all just happening by itself, but something doesn’t sit right with me.”
Stellan looked uneasy. Although he was still working on his acting career, he had been forced to take a more active role in his family’s affairs due to his father’s declining health.
With his mother handling both the hospital and the company, Stellan felt the weight of his responsibilities.
“I thought I should come to you, Percival. If you can help, maybe we can clear this up quickly. The longer this drags on, the worse it will be for our business.”
After a moment of silence, Percival finally spoke. “In that case, why not trace it back to the source?”
Stellan blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”
He was somewhat unsure of Percival’s intentions and worried that he might be misinterpreting things.
“Go with the flow. Since they want to get close to the Drake family and cooperate with them, let them think they’ve succeeded. See if they truly want to cooperate with the Drake Group, or if they’re setting a trap to make you fall into it. “Set up a situation that makes them believe the Drake family has been caught in their scheme. Then, you can reach out to the Tillery family, have the Drake Group block their escape routes, and make sure that whether they’re setting a trap to deceive the Drake family or genuinely want to collaborate, they won’t be able to escape.
“As long as you block their retreat, these people will naturally suffer losses in business. A failed business partnership would have a huge impact on both the company and the family.
“At that point, the most skilled thing for a wealthy family is to shift blame onto each other, shirk responsibility, and even fall out over their own interests.
“As long as someone stirs trouble, the Drake family can accurately identify the person trying to maximize their benefits and strike at them, turning the tables and letting them tear each other apart.”
Percival succinctly stated his thoughts.
“Exactly. In that case, the Drake family doesn’t necessarily have to genuinely cooperate, but they can pretend to consider it. Lead them into the game and make them think we want to cooperate with them. Then their true colors will be exposed.”
Percival, seeing that he understood, couldn’t help but appreciate him with a glance.
Chapter 464
Stellan, despite his roots in the entertainment industry, was quick to grasp the intricacies of the business world, showing a rare clarity in understanding the situation with the Drake family. It wasn’t hard to see how well the Drake family nurtured their younger generation.
“As long as the profit is big enough, and the temptation strong enough, the people behind the scenes will lose control, and they might even end up being the ones who get bitten,” Percival said succinctly.
Stellan gave a calm smile, but there was admiration in his eyes. He wasn’t jealous, though. He looked at Percival, and rather than envy, he was filled with respect.
He had known that the Stewart family was influential, but seeing how Percival, so young, could master the complexities of business and lay out such a clever plan with ease was nothing short of impressive. The problems that had weighed heavily on Stellan seemed trivial under Percival’s gaze.
“Thank you, Mr. Stewart,” Stellan said sincerely. The Drake family will definitely live up to your expectations.”
The entire situation had left both him and his parents uneasy, but after speaking with Percival for just five minutes, it seemed like everything had been resolved.
He quickly stood up, ready to leave, but then paused, as if a thought had just occurred to him. His hand clenched into a fist, as if he were preparing to say something.
“Mr. Stewart, though I don’t know what your relationship with Freya is, I noticed something strange,” Stellan began, his voice hesitant but firm. “That night during Odalys’ birthday, she took us straight to the Stewart Villa. We were only there for about ten minutes before we left, but she has free access to the Stewart family home. We never asked about your relationship with her, but…”
Stellan paused, clearly uncomfortable. “From what I know, you’re the only child of the Stewart family. There aren’t any other heirs, right?” Although speaking like this to Percival was rude and could potentially anger him, leading to the downfall of the Drake family, Stellan still had some things he wanted to ask him, things that had been weighing on his mind ever since.
“It wasn’t just him-Francis and Selah were also a bit troubled, but no one dared to ask. They all knew that Freya didn’t seem like someone who would play the role of a mistress or lover. Yet, she was allowed to freely enter the Stewart family, which was quite strange.
Moreover, there were no other relatives in the Stewart family, and Percival was the only son. So…
“Do you think there’s something ambiguous between Freya and me, or do you think she’s my lover, and that’s why she can freely enter the Stewart family?” Percival’s eyes darkened slightly.
He hadn’t expected this matter to cause such misunderstandings.
“I’ve known Odalys for a while now, but I do see her as a sister, and my parents also want to adopt her as their goddaughter.
“It might be rude for me to ask you this, and perhaps even crossing a line, but this is something that’s been on my mind. If you and Odalys are indeed in a legally recognized relationship, then I believe you should keep your distance from women, even from Freya.” Stellan said firmly.
He knew it wasn’t ideal to speak to Percival this way, especially now when he was discussing business with him, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. He had a rare chance to speak with Percival, and he didn’t want to waste it.
Even if it meant offending him, Stellan felt he had to voice his concerns.
“Are you not afraid of offending me by saying this? Or do you think that if I’m in a bad mood, the Drake family might not make it?” Percival asked, looking at him thoughtfully.
Percival was sitting with an air of casual dominance, exuding a powerful presence that made Stellan feel uneasy and not dare to meet his eyes.
“I’m indeed worried about offending you, but I want to stand up for Odalys, and I want to seek justice for her,” Stellan said in a low voice.
He wasn’t afraid of offending people, but he didn’t want Odalys to suffer.
It was well-known in the entertainment industry that Freya, despite appearing to have no backing, was someone no one dared to mess with. Even producer Kenny didn’t dare to propose any shady deals to her.
But no one knew who was behind her. Still, it was clear that she had risen to her current position through her own talent and not by relying on others.
“Freya is the daughter of my father’s late comrade. Her parents died many years ago, and my father adopted her. She is my adopted sister.”
“As for her and me… that’s all there is to it.” Percival was silent for a moment before explaining.
It was rare for him to explain himself to anyone, especially about his personal matters, but he did so for Odalys.
“Wait, what?” Stellan said, stunned.
He had suspected that Freya was Percival’s lover, and he had even thought she might be supported by him, but he never imagined she was the daughter of Percival’s late comrade. Stellan felt awkward. He hadn’t expected things to turn out like this. He stood there in embarrassment, his pale face flushing red.
His eyes flickered, and he didn’t dare to look Percival in the eye anymore. Deep down, he kept berating himself for doubting Percival’s character when it had all been a misunderstanding.
“My relationship with Freya is nothing more than that. There’s no ambiguity, and she has never used my connections to get any benefits.” Percival added, as if to put the matter to rest. “Also, Odalys knows about her.” Percival added. Stellan scratched his head, now at a loss for what to do.
His previous righteous indignation had instantly evaporated, leaving behind nothing but awkwardness.
“But you were still brave enough to question me about this, and you didn’t care about your status to stand up for Odalys. I think you’re a good man.” Percival said slowly.
He stood up and walked over to Stellan, looking him in the eye.
Percival chuckled softly, patting Stellan’s shoulder and saying, “I’m not some villain, and I’ m not angry because of your questions.”
“If the Stewart family were really as unreasonable or oppressive as you might think, we wouldn’t be able to maintain our position in the business world. The Stewart family is not as pathetic as you think.”
“But I’m glad to see how you’ve stood up for Odalys,” Percival said, his tone softening.
Stellan stood there, stunned for a long time, not moving. By the time he snapped back to reality, Percival had already left.
“So, Freya is your adopted sister, not his lover? And Freya and Odalys aren’t rivals? Odalys is Freya’s Odalys?”
‘Dammit, this misunderstanding really got out of hand…’ Stellan thought anxiously.
After recalling what Percival had said earlier, Stellan wished he could slap himself. He realized just how young and naive he still was.
At least Percival didn’t seem angry, and it was clear that he appreciated Stellan standing up for Odalys. If it had been anyone else, Percival might not have been so calm.
Those in positions of power often have their pride and dignity, and when questioned, they can feel offended or even seek revenge. But Percival didn’t react that way.
“I can’t keep this to myself. I need to tell my parents about this,” Stellan said, feeling agitated. Dangelo and Sienna had been worried about this for a long time.
In their hearts, they had already treated Odalys like a daughter, and they feared that if the situation was true and Percival had wronged Odalys, the Drake family would need to seek justice for her.
But now, everything had been a misunderstanding.
After sending a message to his parents, Stellan grabbed some props and headed back to the set.
Chapter 465
From a distance, Stellan saw Odalys sitting in a chair, chin propped up as she listened to Freya talk. Every now and then, she reached out to fix Freya’s hair, a gentle and familiar gesture.
Stellan cleared his throat, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at him as he watched the scene unfold.
Earlier, he had been confused, even resentful. But now, it seemed he had misunderstood everything-Freya and Odalys were family. What stunned him even more was that Freya’s connection to the Stewart family was far deeper than he had ever imagined. Yet, she had never once mentioned it to them or called Odalys by that intimate, familial name. She had deliberately kept her distance, perhaps to avoid suspicion.
“Stellan, you’re here? Come over! Odalys bought us some sour snacks; the green mangoes are amazing!” Freya spotted him and waved enthusiastically.
Stellan walked over quickly, still processing his thoughts.
On the table, there were several snacks-green mangoes, yellow peaches, and other treats. Freya was eating them with delight, and without hesitation, Stellan picked up a toothpick and popped a piece into his mouth.
“How is it? Good, right? It’s hard to find these at this time of year,” Freya said, already reaching for another piece, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Before Stellan could respond, Francis and Selah, having just wrapped up their scene, walked over to join them.
“Hey… isn’t this my favorite?” Selah exclaimed, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing a toothpick to skewer a couple of pieces.
Francis, having spent more time abroad, hadn’t tried these before. He also joined in eagerly.
As they were chatting and munching on the snacks, a delivery man suddenly appeared, walking straight towards Odalys. When he saw her, he hurried over, handing her a delivery note. ” Odalys, someone ordered smoothies, coffee, and some cakes for your afternoon tea.”
Behind him, several other delivery men were carrying large boxes of food and smoothies, filling the space around the table with a variety of items.
“Did someone order this for me?” Odalys asked, confused.
No one knew she was at Film Capital, and aside from the four of them, she had no other friends.
“Yes, a Mr. Stewart ordered it for you. He said he was worried you didn’t eat enough earlier and might get hungry later,” the delivery man explained politely, but his eyes couldn’t help but linger on Odalys.
He had seen her live stream, read news about her, and even watched the variety shows she had appeared on. Now, he was standing in front of her in real life. His hands fidgeted nervously, unable to leave.
“Odalys…” he stammered, looking at her with some uncertainty. With a hesitant breath, he finally asked, “You do Star readings, right? Could you… give me a reading?”
To his surprise, Odalys responded without hesitation, “Sure.”
The delivery man was stunned. He hadn’t even finished his question, but she already knew what he was going to ask. Could she really be that accurate? Maybe all those readings were just staged nonsense.
Before he could question further, Odalys continued, “She’ll call you, and you’ll agree to have dinner with her tonight. Your relationship will work out.”
The delivery man stood frozen, staring at her with wide eyes. Was she serious? How did she know all of this? But before he could respond, his phone rang.
He glanced at the number on the screen-his heart skipped a beat. It was the woman he had secretly admired for a long time, the one who had never called him before. Now, she was reaching out to him.
“Hello, what’s up?” he answered quickly, standing still as if to confirm if Odalys’ words were true.
On the other end, the woman confirmed her plans. “Yes, I’ll meet you tonight, and we’ll have dinner together.”
His heart raced as he hurriedly responded, “Okay, I’ll come pick you up soon. See you tonight.”
When he hung up the phone, his eyes were red with emotion, and he looked back at Odalys. She was smiling at him, waving with an almost playful glint in her eyes.
“Congratulations, looks like you’re about to get off the market. Maybe you’ll have kids soon,” Odalys teased him with a grin.
The delivery man stood there, fumbling through his pockets, suddenly realizing he had no cash on him. He had only 50 yuan left from this morning. Embarrassed, he asked, “I only have 50 yuan on me… can I transfer the rest to you?”
“No need, it’s on the house,” Odalys waved him off with a smile.
He stood there for a moment, then, filled with excitement, he bowed deeply. “Thank you,” he said before hurrying out the door, practically running. His joy was evident in the way he moved, his steps almost light with elation.
Odalys watched him leave, a small smile tugging at her lips, still processing the whole scene.
“Do you think he really will get off the market?” Freya leaned over, curious.
Odalys snapped out of her thoughts, answering with a smirk, “Well, if his luck’s good, I’m sure he will.”
Freya, unable to resist teasing, leaned in and asked, “What about me? When will I find someone?”
Odalys chuckled, tickled by Freya’s playful antics. She cupped Freya’s face in her hands, inspecting her closely. “Hmm, you’re so pretty. I don’t think you should settle for any random man.”
“Aww, I love you, Odalys! I’m not settling for anyone else,” Freya responded, dramatically hugging Odalys and planting a loud kiss on her cheek.
Stellan, who had been watching from the sidelines, exchanged looks with Francis and Selah. Without hesitation, he beckoned them over. They instinctively stepped aside, curiosity piqued. “What’s going on?” Selah asked, eager to know.
“Freya’s not Percival’s lover, nor is she being kept by him. She’s actually adopted by the Stewart family-she’s Percival’s adopted sister,” Stellan revealed, eager to clear the air.
He didn’t want anyone else to misunderstand Freya, especially since she had intentionally kept her true identity under wraps.
“What?” Selah’s jaw dropped in shock. She hadn’t harbored any ill feelings toward Freya, but she had been worried that any exposure of their connection would hurt Odalys. Now, it seemed there was no need to worry.
“How do you know?” Francis asked, just as puzzled.
This was a conversation that none of them dared to have, always too anxious to ask directly. Some questions, once asked, could break friendships.
“I just had a chat with Percival earlier. I couldn’t resist asking him directly, and he confirmed it himself. And after that, he even ordered all these snacks and drinks for Odalys. Isn’t this his way of declaring their relationship?” Stellan laughed awkwardly, slightly amused by how things had turned out.
Selah fell silent, still processing.
“Freya really is something,” Selah said, feeling a mix of admiration and disbelief. “She has connections and power, but she’s so low-key about it. Most people would be flaunting it by now, but she doesn’t. It’s impressive.”
“Hey, what are you all doing over there? Come over and eat! My brother bought all this for Odalys!” Freya called out to them, flashing a mischievous wink.
Odalys, still looking at her phone, read a message from Percival. It was clear now: he wanted her to stop hiding her identity to avoid further misunderstandings.
As she read the message, Odalys couldn’t help but chuckle softly, realizing that Percival had been more considerate about this than she had ever thought. It seemed like his order for afternoon coffee was his way of making a public declaration about their relationship.
“Ah, so you’re the little princess of the Stewart family?” Selah said with a playful tone, jogging over to tease Odalys as she accepted a coffee and took a sip.
Chapter 466
Freya couldn’t help but roll her eyes dramatically.
“No title or position can stop me from loving Odalys,” Freya declared before wrapping her arms around Odalys in a tight embrace.
Selah, not to be outdone, immediately jumped in. “No way, Odalys is mine,” Selah countered, locking her arms around Odalys’ other side.
The two of them held on tight, then simultaneously turned their heads to plant a loud, cheeky kiss on Odalys’ face. Odalys, frozen in place, looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I feel like I’ve just been defiled,” Odalys muttered under her breath.
Before she could say anything more, Selah and Freya quickly slapped their hands over her mouth.
“Shh,” they both whispered in unison, making a finger-to-lips gesture.
Odalys couldn’t hold back any longer and burst into laughter, thoroughly amused by their antics. She swatted at their hands, trying to regain her composure.
“Stop sitting so close! You’ll start rumors and ruin my reputation,” she warned.
Freya dramatically sighed, pretending to be hurt.
“Oh, I’m being rejected,” she said, though she immediately stood up, moving away.
“Come on, everyone, gather around! Today, Odalys is treating us all to afternoon coffee!” Freya called out, her enthusiasm infectious. Selah quickly joined in to help.
The director, the producer, the martial arts director, and the screenwriters, hearing the mention of Odalys’ name, all rushed over. They were still holding their take-out meals, looking a bit disheveled, but none of them cared about appearances as they eagerly approached. When they saw Odalys sitting there, smoothie in hand, they immediately gathered around, hoping to bask in her good fortune.
“Odalys, after your ritual last time, I haven’t had a nightmare since,” Kenny said with gratitude, his voice filled with relief.
The director also quickly grabbed a coffee, drinking two quick gulps.
“I know, right? Ever since that ritual, there haven’t been any strange happenings at Film Capital, and I haven’t had a headache in days.”
Everyone was in high spirits, except for the producer, who kept looking at Odalys with an unreadable expression, hesitating to speak.
“Odalys, could we have a word in private?” the producer finally asked, putting down his lunchbox, though his appetite had clearly
vanished. He picked up the smoothie that Selah handed him but didn’t drink, just waiting, his gaze fixed on her.
Odalys gave him a calculating glance before replying, “Sure.”
“Thanks for the smoothie, Odalys.”
“Thanks for the cake, Odalys,” several of the actors called out as they accepted their snacks, all the while glancing at Odalys with gratitude. Odalys, deciding to take a walk by the river, started to move away. The producer followed closely, unable to keep his distance.
He stood a little behind her, his posture tense, as though unsure of how to approach.
“Has something happened at home recently?” Odalys asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the air.
The producer’s eyes widened, a spark of hope igniting in them. Just moments ago, he had been listless, but now, with Odalys’ question, it was as if someone had flicked a switch, bringing him back to life.
As a producer, he was a man of stature, well- respected in the industry, used to having people kiss up to him. This was the first time he had approached anyone with a request of his own.
“How did you know?” he asked, his voice betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
He had heard the rumors of Odalys’ abilities, but up until now, he had remained skeptical, watching from a distance.
“You have dark circles under your eyes, your expression is heavy, and your forehead is a little darker. You probably can’t sleep at night. And there’s an unfamiliar aura around you,” Odalys continued, her eyes scanning him with an uncanny precision.
“Let me summarize: something has entered your house that doesn’t belong there, and it’s causing problems. Your wife almost miscarried, and even though the pregnancy is stable for now, the child will likely not survive if this continues.”
The producer’s face turned pale as she spoke, his heart racing.
This was a private matter-something he had shared with no one, not even his closest friends in the industry. His wife’s pregnancy had been kept a secret, a sensitive topic, and this was the first time anyone had brought it up.
He and his wife had kept it under wraps, knowing the risks involved. They hadn’t made the news public, as miscarriages in the first trimester were common and the topic was too personal.
But for the past few days, his wife had been experiencing severe discomfort and bleeding. = Despite the doctor’s assurances that everything was normal, the situation had only gotten worse. Four days of unrelenting bleeding had taken a toll, and despite hospital visits and treatment, nothing had improved. Last night, his wife had endured hours of pain, and the bleeding had returned.
He suspected that things weren’t right, but every time they went to the hospital, the tests came back normal. When he heard Odalys was nearby, he couldn’t wait to speak to her.
“What do you mean by ‘something that doesn’t belong to you’?” the producer asked, his voice urgent, as though he could sense the truth lurking in her words.
Odalys turned to face him, standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back. Her gaze was sharp as she assessed him, her voice calm yet direct.
“After your wife found out she was pregnant, did you bring a picture to hang in the house, hoping the child would grow up as beautiful and cute as the one in the image?” she asked suddenly, her tone piercing.
The producer froze, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“Wha-how do you know?” His voice shook as he wiped a bead of cold sweat from his brow.
Odalys’ accuracy was terrifying, and it was clear now that her abilities were even greater than the rumors suggested. She knew things about his life that no one else could have known.
“I can tell from your face,” Odalys replied cryptically, her gaze unwavering.
The producer fell silent, processing the information. After a moment, he spoke slowly, his voice filled with guilt.
“After my wife got pregnant, she saw a post online that recommended hanging pictures of cute dolls by the bedside during pregnancy. It was said that the child would grow up healthy and beautiful if they saw the images every day,” he explained, his words tinged with regret.
“She kept insisting on buying one of those paintings, saying that it would ensure our baby would be just as perfect as the ones in the picture. We bought the painting for just 20 dollars at a regular store. She looked at it every day, convinced it would bring us good fortune. But then, she started having nightmares, and the bleeding started.”
“At first, I didn’t think much of it, but after several incidents, I started to worry. But what does a picture have to do with this? We just bought it as a cheap decoration.”
Odalys listened in silence, her expression unreadable. She had heard of people doing similar things before-hoping that looking at certain images would bring their children good luck.
“Let me see the picture,” Odalys said, her voice firm.
The producer quickly fumbled with his phone, realizing the image wasn’t on his device.
Panicking, he dialed his wife’s number. The call was quickly answered, and he switched to video mode.
“Okay, show it to Odalys,” the producer instructed, his voice frantic.
His wife, confused but compliant, lifted the phone and directed the camera toward the picture hanging by their bedside.
As Odalys stared at the image on the screen, her heart sank. Her expression darkened, a sense of foreboding sweeping over her.
“Is it the picture?” the producer asked anxiously, desperate for an answer.
Odalys stared at the image for a long moment, her face ashen, before speaking in a low voice,
That’s enough. End the video for now.”
Chapter 467
The producer quickly ended the video call, his hand trembling as he lowered the phone.
“Have you recently sought out any practitioners of the occult? Or has your wife perhaps found a godfather of some sort?” Odalys asked, her voice cutting through the air with sharp precision.
The producer wasn’t expecting this line of questioning.
“My wife… she’s more inclined to believe in these things. Recently, she became involved with a certain circle and met someone who claims to be a wise sage. She felt a special connection with him and, well… she made him her godfather,” he explained, his voice wavering slightly.
Odalys’ lips curled into a cold smile. “So, this godfather of hers… did he bless you both, and was it he who instructed you to buy that picture? The one you hung in your bedroom?” she asked, her voice chilling.
The producer froze, the color draining from his face as her words sank in. His throat went dry, and his mind raced. It hit him-something was terribly wrong with this ‘godfather.’
“Yes, that’s right. Since she accepted him as her godfather, everything has been going smoothly for us. We’ve struggled to conceive for years, bu recently, she got pregnant. Our business deals have been going through, no issues at all. This man… he’s quite extraordinary,” the producer admitted, his voice faltering with a mix of awe and suspicion.
Odalys shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. The key point here is that he’s been helping you without charging you a dime, right? Have you ever heard the saying, “A divination never comes free?” When someone asks for help, but hasn’t accumulated good deeds, they always expect compensation.”
“If it were a small matter, maybe you could overlook it. But for something as big as conceiving a child or securing important deals, there is a cost. If things go wrong… you’ll have to pay the price,” she explained, her words cutting through the tension in the air.
The producer wiped the cold sweat from his brow, his sleeve now soaked.
Panic was starting to rise in him. He hastily wiped his face, feeling sweat pouring down his back. His legs felt weak, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse on the ground.
“Please… Odalys, enlighten me. I feel so foolish… I don’t understand all these intricacies,” he said respectfully, his voice heavy with gratitude and fear.
Having heard her predict everything so accurately, he had completely lost any doubts about her abilities.
Odalys paused, her expression becoming more serious as she leaned in. “There are many people whose fates are cursed by their
astrological signs-some may even bring harm to their parents or children.
“That’s why, in rural areas, you’ll often hear of people adopting trees, fields, or even stones as their ‘parents.’ When disaster strikes in their lives, that tree will die, the field will flood, or the stone will somehow vanish-none of these adoptions end well.”
“Adopting a godfather or godmother isn’t something to be taken lightly,” she continued, her voice steady. “It sounds like someone specifically targeted your wife and lured her into this new circle. The truth is, she was chosen by someone else. They used the subtleties of magic to deceive her, tricking her into adopting the wrong godfather. And now, because of this, her mind has become unsettled. She’s pregnant, but her spirit is disturbed.”
“As for the image you bought… the child in that painting… it was a child who died young. You see, that child was already dead before you bought the picture. Yet, you continue to hope your own child will grow up just like it. Well, wishing for a child to follow in the footsteps of the dead, it only leads to one outcome: early death.”
“It’s like looking at a dead person and wishing for your own child to grow up just like them. What kind of end do you think that will bring?” Odalys explained, her voice unwavering, filled with a gravity that made the air around them seem thicker.
The producer stumbled back, falling to the ground, his face pale. He swallowed hard, his mind spinning with the weight of her words. “Does this mean… this so-called godfather is trying to harm us? But we didn’t even know him. Why would he want to hurt us?” he stammered, his mind racing to make sense of it all.
Odalys sat down on a nearby stone, sipping from her smoothie as she took in the warm sunlight, her expression lost in thought.
“Please, Odalys… what can we do? Is there a way to save my wife and the child?” The producer’s voice broke, hoarse with desperation. He was utterly terrified, his body trembling from the anxiety that had overtaken him.
Odalys fell silent, her mind swirling with a realization of her own.
She had initially planned to have Sophia take the medicine to fake a pregnancy, to test Windsor and others’ reactions.
But now, hearing the producer’s story, the two situations seemed to intertwine in a way she hadn’t expected.
“Do you trust me?” Odalys asked suddenly, her voice sharp.
The producer nodded vigorously, his eyes glistening with tears he fought to hold back. “I do, I trust you. Please… save us,” he pleaded, his voice full of raw emotion.
He could barely speak at this point; his words were choked with a mix of fear, disbelief, and hopelessness.
“Extend your hand,” Odalys instructed him. The producer hesitated for a moment but then stretched out his palm, his hand trembling as he held it in front of her.
Without another word, Odalys quickly reached forward and traced something across his palm. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his hand, and when he looked down, a thin cut had appeared in the center of his palm.
She quickly pulled something from her bag, her movements so swift that he couldn’t even follow. Then, she pressed a small talisman into his palm, where it seemed to merge with his blood. “Don’t wash your hands today. When you get home, use this hand to take down that picture. Then, press your palm onto the child’s face in the painting. Don’t speak, no matter what happens,” Odalys instructed, her voice calm but firm.
The producer was completely lost, his body still shaking with anxiety. “What happens next? If something happens, what should I do?”
“You don’t need to do anything. Just don’t speak. Watch the picture; watch what happens to your wife. You only need to observe.
“Keep your hand on the painting for three minutes. Don’t remove it, even if your wife tries to stop you. After three minutes, go to the bathroom and call me,” she said, her tone insistent.
The producer’s sweat was pouring from his forehead, his clothes drenched as if he had fallen into a river. He had been through some intense scenes in films, but nothing had terrified him like this moment. And now, in the broad daylight, listening to Odalys speak… he was paralyzed with fear.
“I’ll go home now,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
His mind was already consumed by the need to handle the situation at home, and nothing else seemed to matter.
As he turned to leave, a sudden thought struck him, and he looked back at Odalys, his eyes filled with desperate hope. “Odalys… could you… could you come with me? I feel like if you’re with me, maybe I can find the courage to face it.”
Odalys raised an eyebrow and shook her head.”
If I go with you, everything will be scared off. You won’t get a clear result. Remember, don’t wash your hands, don’t touch any water, and don’t speak. Just take the picture down and press your hand against its face. Do exactly as I told you,” she said again, her voice steady and unyielding.
Chapter 468
The producer nodded immediately after hearing Odalys’ words.
“What you have in your hand is a talisman-it’s protective. It will ensure nothing bad happens to you,” Odalys said, noticing his anxious expression and trying to reassure him.
Upon hearing that, the producer visibly calmed down, as if he’d just taken a dose of medicine to soothe his nerves. He seemed to regain some composure.
“Thank you, Odalys. I’m heading home right now,” he said, sounding a bit more steady.
He pulled out his phone and quickly called Kenny, letting him know he had to leave early. Once the call ended, he hurriedly started his car, leaving Film Capital behind.
Odalys watched him drive off before turning her attention back to the peaceful surroundings. Soon, Percival walked over from a distance and sat down beside her by the riverbank.
“Did you hear everything?” Odalys asked, her gaze focused on the water.
Percival nodded and, with a quiet smile, handed her a small cake. She accepted it and took a small bite, while Percival effortlessly took the smoothie from her hand.
“I heard. This seems connected to what you mentioned before about people using unborn children for rituals-kind of like raising little spirits?” Percival mused, his voice filled with curiosity. The concept seemed familiar, and he couldn’t help but draw parallels.
“Exactly. That’s why I wanted Sophia to fake her pregnancy. I wanted to see how Windsor and the others would react.”
“However, this producer… there’s an unmistakable trace of Oliver’s energy on him. I suspect the godfather his wife adopted is actually Oliver. And after she took him on, she became pregnant.”
“Oliver must’ve predicted that the producer’s wife would conceive this year and used that opportunity to get closer to her. This suggests that their astrological signs are compatible.”
“If her signs have negative energy, then the child she carries, if miscarried, would pass on that same negative energy. It’s a powerful force that can kill without a trace. I suspect the plan here is to use this energy to control powerful, wealthy families,” Odalys speculated, her expression serious.
Percival was silent for a moment, weighing her words. While unsure of the full truth, he couldn’t deny the unsettling possibility.
“Should we go over and check it out?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure it was necessary.
Odalys shook her head, enjoying a piece of cake with a pleasant smile. “No need. I want him to come to me on his own.”
Percival watched her with a soft, adoring gaze. Her confidence was palpable, and he couldn’t help but feel pride.
Before he could respond, Odalys spoke again, her tone playful. “What’s this? Did Mr. Stewart message Freya and ask her to admit I’m ‘her’ sister-in-law? Are you worried that people might think your private life is too chaotic?”
Percival chuckled softly, a little surprised by the comment. He cleared his throat, trying to explain himself.
“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want people misunderstanding you. Honestly, I don’t want anyone giving you a strange look. You’re Odalys to Freya, and that’s all that matters.”
“I also have no connections with her in that sense. Nothing messy will happen, and I don’t want anyone jumping to conclusions,” Percival said frankly, his gaze steady. To him, it was important to keep boundaries clear, especially when it came to people.
Odalys smiled, clearly appreciating his straightforwardness. “No wonder Freya looks up to you. To her, you’re a man of purity.”
She understood now why Freya never took advantage of their relationship-she knew that Percival, like her, was a person of integrity.
Freya was the kind of woman who would always stop just short of crossing a line, because she knew they both shared similar values.
The two sat there chatting, and Odalys took off her socks, dipping her feet into the cool river water.
It was autumn, and the water was a bit chilly, but she didn’t mind. Her fair feet gently swayed in the water, sending ripples across the surface. “Has everything at your company been taken care of?” she asked, noticing Percival’s relaxed demeanor despite his high position. He never seemed too busy when he was around her. “All done. Anything else, Callum will handle,” Percival replied, handing her the smoothie again. She took a sip, enjoying the sweet taste.
Percival couldn’t help but watch her, his eyes softening. She looked so cute as she drank, her cheeks puffed up slightly like a child enjoying a treat.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated. Glancing at the unfamiliar number on the screen, she exchanged a brief look with Percival before answering.
Time rewinds 30 minutes…
The producer was driving frantically toward home, feeling a sense of panic creeping in. The traffic lights seemed to take forever, and he wiped the sweat from his palms nervously, trying not to ruin the talisman he had been given.
“Come on, hurry up,” he muttered under his breath.
After waiting through nine red lights, he finally arrived at his house, but something immediately felt off.
Despite the bright midday sun outside, the air inside the house was uncomfortably cold, and the curtains were drawn shut.
He rushed into the living room, pulling open the curtains. The sunlight poured in, but he couldn’t afford to waste any time. He hurried to the bedroom and burst through the door, only to find his wife kneeling by the bed, staring intently at the painting on the wall.
“Honey, you’re back?” She looked startled, clearly caught off guard by his sudden appearance.
Without waiting for her response, the producer lunged forward, tearing the image from the wall with a sharp “rip!” His wife froze, eyes wide in disbelief, unable to comprehend what was happening.
“What are you doing? Why are you tearing the painting?” she cried, but the producer ignored her, focused entirely on removing the image. He couldn’t speak, and he didn’t want to. All he cared about was getting rid of that cursed painting.
A strange sound echoed-a hiss-and suddenly, white smoke began to seep out of the child’s face in the painting.
The producer froze, feeling an odd pain in his palm, as if something invisible had bitten him. He clutched the image even tighter, not daring to let go.
“What are you doing? Why are you burning the painting?” his wife screamed, rushing toward him.
But as she reached out, something horrifying happened: the child in the painting seemed to move. A transparent, ghostly hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the image. “Ah! What is this? Why is it grabbing me?” she screamed, terror evident in her voice.
She struggled and tried to pull away, but the hand gripped her so tightly it felt as though her wrist would snap. The hand was nearly transparent, like a ghostly apparition-but it was real enough to be terrifying.
Panicking, she looked at her husband, her eyes wide with fear. The producer shook his head at her, signaling her to stay silent. He pressed his hand to his lips, urging her not to speak.
In her panic, the woman stumbled backward, her eyes locked on the painting. The hand still held her wrist with a crushing force, leaving a deep red mark.
Faint, tortured cries echoed from within the painting-screams of pain and sorrow, followed by the sound of a child crying, growing louder and closer, then fading away again.
The cries seemed to come from all around them, as though they were trapped inside the painting itself.
“Who… who is it? Who’s making that sound?” she gasped, horrified.
She tried to run, but found herself frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the picture. The producer, still holding the image in place with his hand, felt the weight of the eerie cries filling the air with an overwhelming sense of dread.
Chapter 469
The woman’s lips trembled as she stared at the producer’s hand, wanting to speak but unable to. The minutes dragged on, and her wrist, caught in the invisible hand’s grip, began to bruise, as if her bones were being crushed. The force was so immense that she couldn’t comprehend how something unseen could have such power. The producer kept his gaze fixed on the phantom hand, his own palm pressed firmly against the face of the child in the painting. It felt as if he were suffocating a real person, someone struggling desperately to escape.
“Mama, help me,” came a chilling voice from the painting.
The woman, as if in a trance, suddenly reached out toward the producer with force.
He staggered backward, nearly losing his balance, but before his hand could slip off the painting, he forcibly pressed it back against the image. In that moment, he could feel a trickle of blood seeping from his palm.
His eyes widened in shock, his eyes glued to the image as the horrific scene unfolded before him.
“Let go! What are you doing?!” the woman screamed, completely losing her composure.
In her panic, she lunged toward him, but the producer quickly grabbed her, pushing her back with all his strength.
His hand screamed in pain, and it felt as though something had pierced it. His thoughts flashed to Odalys, her steadfast confidence.
Despite the overwhelming fear, he forced himself to trust Odalys. She had never given him a reason to doubt her.
She had orchestrated the production, bringing in all the actors, and if something happened to him, it would ruin everything for her as well. There was no way she would harm him.
As the screams from the painting grew weaker, the room fell silent. The time on his phone showed three minutes had passed before he finally released the image. He pulled his hand away, staring at the painting.
The child’s face had become unrecognizable- twisted, with eyes wide and mouth contorted in a grotesque expression.
“What… what is this?” the woman gasped, horrified.
The producer didn’t respond. He slowly got up, noticing that his palm was torn, the skin mangled and bloody. He rushed to the bathroom, his feet feeling as if something invisible was gripping them. He kicked out, desperate to escape.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you possessed?” The woman rushed up behind him, trying to grab hold of him.
Sweat dripped from the producer’s body as he struggled to break free from her grip. He pushed her hand away and ran toward the bathroom. The woman chased after him.
“Where are you going? Come back!” she shouted, but he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him and leaned against it, gasping for breath.
He felt like he had just woken from a nightmare, his mind racing. Without a second thought, he dialed Odalys’s number.
The phone rang several times before she picked up.
“Odalys, I did what you said. I tore down the painting and pressed my hand against the face. There were screams coming from inside the painting,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Then my wife showed up, but it seemed like the child’s hand appeared from the painting and grabbed her wrist, leaving a bruise. The child even called out for her to help-‘Mama, save me.”
The producer paused, shuddering at the memory.
The experience had been far more terrifying than anything he had ever filmed, even when shooting horror movies at night.
“Anything else?” Odalys asked, her tone calm but attentive.
“The producer hesitated for a moment. “After that, my wife… her expression changed. She stared at me for a moment, and then suddenly, she lunged at me as if she had lost control.” Odalys stayed silent, absorbing the information. The producer could feel the seconds ticking by. and his anxiety grew.
“Odalys, are you still there? What should I do now?” The producer’s voice cracked with urgency.
“Show me a video. Let me see your palm,” Odalys instructed.
The producer quickly switched the call to video mode and held his palm up to the camera. Odalys’s face appeared, her brow furrowed as she examined the gory sight of his hand. “Wash it with clean water and see if you can spot any bite marks,” Odalys said, her tone precise.
The producer flinched as he remembered the pain in his hand. It was as if the child in the painting had bitten him. He didn’t dare think further. He quickly turned on the faucet, washing his palm under the water. The blood and remnants of the talisman potion washed away, revealing a distinct bite mark on his palm.
“There’s a bite mark here,” he said, his voice trembling.
Odalys’s eyes narrowed as she observed the imprint. “Count the teeth.”
The producer squinted at the mark and began counting. “Eight teeth.”
Odalys’s voice was calm but serious. “Children usually don’t have teeth until they’re about four months old, and even earlier in some cases, they start sprouting tiny white tooth tips. By one year old, they’ll have eight teeth.”
The producer listened carefully, trying to make sense of what Odalys was telling him. He felt strangely comforted by her voice, like an anchor in the storm of terror that had engulfed him. The cry of the child, the sound of suffering, still echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something dreadful was going to happen.
“One year old… and then what?” the producer asked, eager for answers.
Odalys took a slow sip from her smoothie, exchanging a look with Percival. “That means your wife must’ve made a wish. She wished for your child to return at one year old, and that’s why the child in the painting is likely the spirit of a one-year-old who died prematurely.”
“If you want to protect the child your wife is carrying, you need to find her godfather and get the ashes of the child in the painting. There’s a debt to be paid. If you made a wish, you have to fulfill it. If you made the wrong wish, you’ll have to ask for forgiveness and tell him that you no longer need it. Otherwise, your wife’s child won’t survive.”
“Even if you manage to save the child now, it won’t live past one year,” Odalys warned.
The producer was struck by a sudden, deep sense of dread. He realized how crucial it was not to make careless wishes, especially when it came to matters concerning the unborn.
“What if I can’t find the godfather?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.
Odalys’s expression remained unreadable. “Then we’ll have to see if you can find him. If not, contact me again.”
She paused for a moment, glancing at Percival before continuing. “As for the painting, just burn it. The child won’t come back. But you need to find the godfather fast.”
With that, the line went dead, leaving the producer alone with his thoughts, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
Chapter 470
“If you find him and he denies it, use the hand with the bite marks to hit him-slap him across the face,” Odalys instructed.
The producer remained silent.
He stared blankly at his palm, the very hand that had pressed against the child’s face in the painting, now tasked with striking someone. If anyone else had said such a thing to him, he would have thought them mad, but since it was Odalys, he couldn’t dismiss it.
“Alright, I’ll slap him with this hand,” the producer replied.
Odalys’s lips twitched. She added, “Make sure to slap him hard, right across the face, and get that bite mark onto his skin.”
“Slap him… across the face? Can this bite mark really transfer to his face?” The producer blinked, shocked at the absurdity of it all.
“Yes, if you don’t, that bite mark will stay with you for life. The harder you hit, the more likely the mark will transfer off your palm and onto him,” Odalys explained.
The producer’s skin crawled as he examined the bite mark on his palm. On their own hand?
If he could get rid of the mark by transferring it to someone else, he would certainly be happy to do so-who would want to keep such a thing visible
What? I’m going to do it now, he said, trying to shake off his unease
He hung up the phone and opened the bathroom door.
His wife was sitting on the floor staring at her bruised wrist. She looked at him, confused. What happened to me? My emotions… I couldn’t control them. It felt like something was…” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, feeling an ominous presence behind her.
What’s going on, honey?” she asked urgently, grabbing his arm.
The producer didn’t respond right away. He weighed his options and, after a moment of hesitation, told her everything. She didn’t say a word after hearing it, and her demeanor grew increasingly defeated.
“Odalys said… if we don’t apologize and make things right, the child will die, right?” She seemed to struggle with the idea, but after what she’d just experienced, she had no choice but to believe it.
“Exactly. So we need to find your godfather and confront him,” the producer said.
His wife stood up and followed him as he grabbed the car keys. Without caring about appearances, they quickly headed downstairs and got into the car, driving off towards Olnnard
They parked on a quiet street and walked down a narrow alley. Ahead, Orson stood casually sipping a cold drink. He was recording a voice message as he watched them approach. Odalys, you were right. The producer and his wife are here, coming from the direction of Oliver’s alley. Looks like you guessed right. The wife’s godfather might be Oliver,” Orson said into his phone. He took a sip of his drink, adjusting his sunglasses, and quietly followed them.
The producer was walking fast, his wife looking increasingly frazzled. Neither of them had ever experienced anything like this, and even though it was broad daylight, it felt like a ghost was following them.
” I’m scared, hubby,” she whispered, clutching his arm.
The producer, too, was shaken. He had no idea what was real anymore, and the sound of the child’s cries was still ringing in his ears.
The thought of having children, of raising a child, now terrified him. He didn’t know which children were real and which ones were spirits.
He silently cursed himself. In this day and age, for a grown man like him to be afraid of ghosts- it was humiliating.
The two of them quickly turned a corner, heading toward the quadrangle courtyards. The area was bustling with activity, especially among women who came to pray for children. Some even offered cash to accumulate merit.”
Why don’t they go to Odalys? I hear her prayers are more powerful Odalys? She’s so amazing, I don’t think I’m worthy of her blessings”
Shh, don’t talk about other people here”
Their conversation was interrupted as Orson climbed a tree nearby. He opened his phone and began filming them discreetly, his lens trained on the producer.
Inside the courtyard, the wife rushed forward when she saw a familiar figure. “Godfather!” she called out.
Everyone froze in shock as they watched her rush in, visibly panicked. A man in a Taoist robe stepped forward, holding a wand that he flicked casually.
“What’s going on?” Oliver asked.
Before anyone could react, the producer lunged forward, raising his hand without hesitation. He slapped Oliver hard across the face.
The sound of the slap echoed, and the force sent Oliver staggering. The impact was so strong it made Oliver’s head snap to the side, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He was stunned, not expecting such an attack.
The other worshippers were equally startled. They instinctively stepped back, fearing they might become the next target of the producer’s wrath.
“Hubby, what are you doing?” His wife gasped, shocked by his actions.
Oliver was stunned by the slap. He stood there, momentarily dazed, looking at the producer in disbelief.
“You slapped me?” Oliver’s voice turned cold and sharp.
In Crownridge, he was a man of status. The aristocracy sought him out for his expertise in reading energy fields and interpreting events. Yet, here was this ignorant producer, stepping into his world and slapping him right across the face. The force of it had loosened his teeth, and the taste of blood filled his mouth.
But the producer had no time to care about that. He quickly spread his palm wide, clearly agitated.
Seeing that the teeth marks had disappeared from his palm, the producer quickly lifted his head, leaning closer to examine it. His eyes widened as he saw that the marks were now clearly branded in the center of Oliver’s cheek where the slap had landed.
The producer’s wife also noticed this and looked at Oliver’s face, fear flashing in her eyes. She then glanced back at the producer’s palm. She had known that there had been teeth marks on his hand, but now, after the slap, those marks had somehow transferred to Oliver’s face? This was definitely strange.
She had witnessed the bite mark before, but now it had transferred onto Oliver.
Originally thinking of seeking Oliver’s help, she wisely kept silent now. A sense of fear crept over her, and she instinctively pulled the producer back a step. She hadn’t taken his previous warnings seriously, but now, seeing what had just happened, she regained her composure. “It’s true,” the producer said, excitement creeping into his voice. “Odalys really is incredible. She said if I hit hard enough, the marks would transfer. I didn’t believe her, but it’s real.”
He quickly rubbed his palm, only to find that the bloody, mangled marks were gone. His palm was clean, and instead, the clear imprint of eight teeth remained on Oliver’s face.
“Oliver, your face…” someone gasped, instinctively stepping back.
Oliver, feeling his teeth loosened by the impact, groaned in pain.
Hearing someone mention his face, he quickly reached up to touch it, only to feel intense pain. His hand came away covered in blood. He was momentarily stunned and the a nearby water basin.
Looking into the water, he saw his face, bloodied and bruised, with a clear imprint of teeth branded onto his cheek. As he reached up to rub it, the mark seemed to move, as if it had come alive. The impression suddenly opened, as though the teeth were biting down on his hand.
Oliver gritted his teeth and groaned in pain, his fingers nearly getting caught in the sharp teeth as they clamped down on his hand.
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