Chapter 445
Clement’s expression twisted into something unreadable, sending a sharp spike of dread straight through Barnard’s chest.
“Clement, did something happen?” Barnard pressed.
Meeting Barnard’s bewildered gaze, Clement pulled up a photo on his phone and handed it over. Barnard took one look and his vision went black. He swayed dangerously in his wheelchair.
The man in the photo was Calvin. Or rather, Calvin’s corpse.
His eyes were shut tight, his body draped in a stark white sheet—the undeniable uniform of the dead.
Clement’s voice echoed distantly in Barnard’s ringing ears. “Barnard, I was a little worried at first, but hearing that you’ve cut ties with him puts my mind at ease. This shouldn’t affect you too much, right p>
*How could it not affect me p>
Listening to Clement’s words, a terrifying, white-hot rage clawed its way up Barnard’s throat.
Even though he resented his father’s constant meddling, the man was still his flesh and blood. How could he possibly not care that he was dead?
“How did he die?” Barnard choked out, his voice dropping to a dark, gravelly register.
Clement shot him a suspicious look but answered in a tone thick with manufactured grief. “I’m not entirely sure. I just know Zachary is a remarkably petty man. He doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Since your father worked for him, he must have crossed a line and paid the ultimate price.
But don’t worry. I’m not nearly as narrow-minded as Zachary. Stick with me, do your job well, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of p>
He patted Barnard’s shoulder, playing the role of the benevolent boss to perfection. But the words were white noise to Barnard.
Calvin was a coward.
He had spent his entire life walking on eggshells.
The only reckless thing he had done recently was stepping out of line to secure that test subject for his son.
His death could only be tied to that single, fatal mistake.
Barnard’s face was a mask of stormy fury, his hands curling into tight fists. Clement, seemingly sensing the murderous intent radiating from him, added smoothly, “Barnard, you know our business better than anyone. Work hard. Help me climb to the very top. One day, we’ll grind Zachary beneath our heels. When that time comes, getting your revenge will be effortless.
I know he was your father, and it’s impossible to sever that bond completely. I’ve already had someone bring your mother here. Go spend some time with her p>
*Mom! Right! Laura p>
She had always been fragile. He couldn’t even imagine how terrified she was right now.
“Where is she?” Barnard demanded.
Clement gestured toward Barnard’s office. As Barnard spun his wheelchair to leave, Clement’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade. “Barnard, you haven’t been doing anything behind my back, have you p>
Barnard froze. An image of Camilla locked in the hotel room flashed through his mind. He forced his features into a mask of placid calm. “Of course not, Clement. I owe you my life. I would never do anything to cross you p>
Clement didn’t push the issue and waved him off. Still, a nagging feeling tugged at the back of Clement’s mind—a premonition that a storm was brewing.
Barnard pushed open the door to his office and found Laura huddled in a corner, her eyes swollen and red from crying.
The second the door clicked shut, she threw herself at his chest, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. “Barnard! Barnard! Your dad… he’s dead!
Those people are monsters! They kill without blinking!
What are we going to do, Barnard? We need to run! We have to get out of here p>
A suffocating weight settled on Barnard’s chest, but he forced himself to remain cold and calculated. He gripped her hands tightly. “Mom, there’s nowhere to run. I’m completely trapped.
Don’t panic. You’re going to stay with me from now on.
We can’t talk here. Let’s go home p>
Laura was essentially a marionette whose strings had been cut. She rested her hands on his shoulders, completely devoid of her own will, and mindlessly followed him out of the building.
When they arrived at their temporary apartment, Davina was in the kitchen, happily humming a tune.
She was in a fantastic mood.
Barnard’s terrible temper—likely a result of the amputation—had completely vanished. He had been treating her incredibly well, showering her with so much cash she could buy whatever her heart desired. It was a dream come true.
Since it was New Year’s Day, she was in such high spirits she had decided to cook for him herself.
But when she turned around, the smile froze on her face. She saw Laura.
Laura looked like a walking corpse, her bloodshot eyes glaring at Davina with a visceral, consuming hatred.
Davina was wearing a vibrant, festive red dress. The entire apartment had been decked out in cheerful holiday decorations.
“Mom? What are you doing here? Why are you looking at me like that?” Davina asked, taking a step back.
Laura didn’t say a word, her body swaying as if she might collapse at any second.
Barnard’s voice was sharp and unforgiving. “What exactly are you doing? Tear all this down. Now p>