Chapter 17 17
Chapter 17
Irene asked fearfully, “Who is this extra set of dishes for?”
My dad smiled without saying a word.
My brother touched her hand and said, “Don’t be afraid, it’s just for a family member.”
With Shane’s reassurance, Irene relaxed and began to eat heartily.
I floated in mid–air, watching as neither my dad nor Shane touched their chopsticks. They rested their hands on the table, watching Irene with satisfaction.
After a long while, Irene finally noticed and looked at them in surprise. “Shane, Richard, why aren’t you eating?”
“Because this meal is specially prepared for you…” Shane replied.
Irene stood up in terror, but after taking just two steps, she collapsed to the ground
with a thud.
Shane stood up and stomped on her face. “Irene, who gave you the guts to mess with
Caitlin?!”
Irene weakly begged for mercy from the floor. Was it useful? No.
Irene was dragged to the basement.
I didn’t want to witness the bloody scene, so I floated to my mom’s urn and gently leaned beside it. “Mom, I miss you dearly.”
Before long, Irene’s painful screams echoed from the basement. The torture lasted for three days. Irene’s pleas turned into curses, and eventually, she was begging for mercy again. Later, her vocal cords were damaged, and she made a grating sound like a broken
record.
I floated into the basement, and the pungent smell of blood filled my nostrils. It was truly unpleasant.
Chapter 1717
Irene was covered in wounds, and all her fingernails and toenails had been pulled out.
She was in a daze.
What goes around comes around, Irene. This is your retribution.
That night, Carson was brought to the basement. The moment Irene saw Carson, the spark in her eyes vanished, and she screamed loudly.
The next morning, a dozen hooded men entered the house. They walked into the
basement with sinister smiles.
My dad stood by, smiling. “Make sure they are entertained, and you will be rewarded.”
That evening, my dad told Shane to return to Bleford. He said that after my mom passed away, he had lost his will to live. He had only continued living for my brother and me. Now that I had been killed, he wouldn’t let those people go unpunished. He would personally deal with them and take all the responsibility upon himself.
Was I moved? No, I felt nothing. Truly, not a single emotion.
Why did he show such deep affection after I died? Why couldn’t he treat me well when I was alive?
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