âI wonât believe it until he tells me himself that heâs dead!â
âHeâs alreadyâ¦â
âGet lost!â
Slamming the door shut behind her, she took a step back, keeping everyone out.
After taking a deep breath, she gradually regained her composure, trying to calm herself down.
As soon as she sank onto the sofa, she noticed the notes she had just jotted down.
Retrieving the notes, she perused them with care.
Before she left the other day, he had embraced her tightly.
She hadnât realized it then, but now, in retrospect, he had seemed different that day.
He had known it was going to happen, hadnât he? That was why he was saying goodbye in his own way before she left Forden?
Howeverâ¦
She hadnât seen his body.
She couldnât believe it! She would rather die than accept it!
Pierre had been absent from the villa because he had followed Sonny to the crematory and had only just returned.
When Lucinda called him in, his face had been etched with sadness.
She sat on the sofa, her expression blank.
Suddenly standing up as he approached her, she slapped him hard across the face.
âUmâ¦â
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Caught off guard, he stumbled backward, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth.
He didnât dare to wipe it away, instead tasting it on his lips as he stood up straight and braced himself for Lucindaâs wrath.
âIf it makes you feel better, you can beat me to death,â he said, his face contorted with guilt.
âI didnât keep a close enough eye on Mr.
Roberts.
Iâm consumed with remorse.
I would feel better if I could somehow atone for my mistakes.
â
She studied his despondent expression, retracting her hand and sinking back onto the sofa.
âWhat happened?â she asked.
âTo be honest, I was sent here to spy on you, but I couldnât bring myself to hurt you.
They wonât let me go.
Three days ago, they gave me an ultimatum: lure you to an abandoned warehouse in the eastern suburbs.
Mr.
Roberts found out about it.
He instructed me not to tell you and promised he would go there instead.
â