Revenge After Death



When I left the basement, my lower back felt stiff... Glancing back at Steven, he quickly averted his gaze with a tinge of guilt. He then explained softly, "Stephie, the mattress isn't good. I'll talk to Joel about getting it replaced."

"Why don't I just get you replaced?" I said through gritted teeth.

Steven grabbed my hand and rejected the idea. "No. We're married now. I can't be returned or replaced."

I lowered my head and observed Steven's hand, but I chose not to pull away. Instead, I allowed him to hold my hand as we walked out together.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

Although it was raining outside, we were completely unaware of it in the basement. I found solace in the total seclusion, which provided a sense of security. It was unlike anything I had experienced before.

Being completely isolated from the outside world was strangely comforting. I had no way of knowing whether it was day or night, or even if it was raining or sunny.

Michael saw me coming out and anxiously ran over to me. "Stephie! Are you okay?"

"Are you expecting me to not be okay?" I stood in the rain while Steven shielded me with an umbrella. Michael was drenched in the rain, and a tinge of sadness flickered in his eyes. "I apologize to you on behalf of Yasmin..."

I sneered. "On behalf of Yasmin? What right do you have?"

"Stephie, why do you constantly misunderstand my intentions? I admit that I failed to watch over her properly, and as a result, she almost caused you harm. I'm sorry." Michael appeared distraught, his expression filled with remorse.

I remained silent, my gaze fixed on the umbrella above me. Whenever Steven held an umbrella for me, it was always tilted toward my direction.

However, when I thought of Michael, he never once offered to hold an umbrella for me. Not only did he fail to do so, but he went as far as tearing my umbrella into pieces.

He was aware of my fear of thunderstorms, yet he intentionally tried to punish me by exploiting this fear. It was his way of seeking revenge for something I had done as a child. Delayed affection was worth nothing. This was the undeniable truth.

In the car, Yasmin lowered the window, her face already wet from the rain. She looked at me with a vicious gaze, her pale face seemingly filled with hatred toward me.

I gazed back at her with deep pity. It dawned on me that she would have to depend on Michael's so-called " conscience" to live for the rest of her life.

"Mike, you might get sick if you stay out in the rain," Yasmin warned, her voice hoarse with concern as she urged Michael to get in the car. However, she refused to leave the car herself.

Yasmin's selfish nature extended even to her love. She feared that falling ill would worsen her HIV infection, so she refused to leave the car. Although she was concerned about Michael, her primary worry was for herself.

"Stephie, something has happened to Peter, and my clues were cut off." Michael glanced at his car where a young teenage girl was sitting in the passenger seat. Her face was pallid and devoid of color, and her hair was damp. She had to be Peter's daughter from his second marriage.

Michael's hands tightened into fists. "Every time I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, someone always

manages to sabotage it. Peter offered to share everything he knew, but it's unfortunate..."

It was unfortunate that he was killed.

Although Peter was not dead yet, the chances of him waking up were very slim, which was essentially the same as being killed.

"What does his daughter know?" I asked, looking at the teenage girl in the passenger seat.

Even if she was unaware, she would be in grave danger as long as she was involved. If those with wealth and power behind this plot intended to eliminate everyone involved, she would surely be a target.

"Linda." Michael opened the car door and held an umbrella for the teenager.

Linda was wearing a black dress, her skin unusually pale. As she stepped out of the car, her small leather shoes touched the water. She hastily withdrew them as if she were afraid. When she noticed Michael by her side, she carefully placed her feet on the ground once more.

Michael explained softly, "She's in 12th grade this year, the same age as Joel. She's about to take the college entrance exam. She has autism..."

I probably guessed correctly. The way she exited the car revealed her strong resistance to the outside

world.