Chapter 347: The Avenger in the Darkness
The night was as black as ink. A cold, damp wind carried a curtain of rain that shrouded the entire city.
The last stars on the horizon had been swallowed by thick, dark clouds, leaving nothing but an impenetrable gloom between heaven and earth.
Two full blocks from the Lancaster villa, an apartment atop the district’s tallest building lay hidden in the darkness, silent and unseen.
Its doors and windows were sealed shut. Heavy blackout curtains were drawn from top to bottom, leaving no gaps and letting not a single sliver of light escape.
It completely sealed out the glow of the streetlights and the clamor of traffic, making it the most secluded spot in the area.
It was the perfect vantage point—as close to the Lancaster villa as one could get while remaining at a safe distance.
Any closer, and she would be within the Lancaster bodyguards’ line of sight; the slightest movement would give her away.
Any farther, and it would be impossible to clearly monitor the activity inside the villa.
After careful deliberation, this vantage point had become the perfect hiding spot.
The mysterious figure stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, having deliberately left a thin slit at the very edge of the blackout curtain—just wide enough for the lens of a pair of binoculars.
A pair of precisely calibrated, high-powered military binoculars rested steadily on the cold marble windowsill.
The lenses, catching the faint glow of the streetlights, were aimed directly at the Lancasters’ luxurious villa in the distance.
Fine threads of rain, like countless silver needles, hung in the air between the binoculars and their target. The drops spattered against the lenses, spreading a thin film of water that made the image waver slightly.
Even so, it wasn’t enough to obscure the binoculars’ incredible clarity. The distant villa’s silhouette and the activity in the courtyard were all captured in detail.
The mysterious figure held her breath, her body ramrod straight. Her right eye was pressed tightly against the cold metal eyepiece, leaving a faint red impression on her socket.
But the bone-chilling cold did nothing to quell the complex, near-frenzied emotions churning in her eyes.
There was simmering hatred, a fanatical obsession, and a trace of deeply hidden scorn.
Through the lenses, the warm yellow light of a wall lamp in the master bedroom seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow. The heavy drapes were drawn tight, completely obscuring the view inside.
Around the villa’s perimeter, bodyguards in dark clothing patrolled like grim, mobile sentinels.
The layers of defense were impenetrable. Not even a bird could get close, let alone a person trying to spy from nearby.
Gazing at the ironclad security, the sharpness in the mysterious figure’s eyes grew deeper, and the obsession in her heart coiled ever tighter, like an overgrown vine.
She was like a hunter, her patience wearing thin but her discipline holding fast. She maintained this dangerous yet safe distance, melting completely into the darkness behind her, making no sound, leaving no trace.
She wouldn’t risk approaching the area, which was riddled with lookouts, giving them no chance of detecting her.
Instead, she had chosen this safest, most concealed vantage point to watch the Lancaster family’s every move.
In the dim light, the binoculars’ lenses caught a faint, cold glint, which in turn reflected her eyes.
They were vacant and lifeless, yet honed to a razor’s edge—two contradictory extremes intertwined, radiating a startling chill.
She stood motionless, one with the night.
Outside, rainwater snaked down the building’s exterior. It pooled on the windowsill, then dripped slowly from the edge, each drop making a soft but distinct sound.
It was just enough to mask the sound of her nearly inaudible breaths, becoming the silent, unsettling soundtrack to this one-sided standoff.
’No rush.’
’There’s plenty of time.’
’From this perfectly safe distance, I’ll watch, I’ll plan. I’ll slowly figure out the bodyguards’ patrol routes and get a handle on all of Adrian Lancaster’s defensive measures.’
’I want to watch Adrian Lancaster lay his foolproof traps out in the open, exhausting himself to protect his family, all while being helpless against the one hiding in the shadows. I want to see him chase a phantom enemy like a headless chicken.’
’I want to watch Wren Sutton live in this false peace, watch as she lets her guard down, bit by bit.’
The rain outside grew heavier. A fierce wind slammed raindrops against the glass, blurring her vision. The warm lights of the distant villa became a hazy, indistinct smear.
But the eyes behind the lenses remained bright, like a lone wolf lying in wait, staring intently at its long-coveted prey, patiently awaiting the perfect moment to strike.
She didn’t know how long she had been standing there. Only when the lights in the villa’s master bedroom finally went out did she pull away from the binoculars.
Her fingers loosened. The cold metal finally pulled away from her eye socket, leaving a numb, dull ache in its place.
She raised a hand to press the area around her eye. The movement was faintly stiff, the result of holding the same position for so long.
The thin slit in the blackout curtain was slowly drawn closed, leaving not a sliver of light. The room plunged into a pitch-black darkness.
She didn’t turn on a light, instead moving toward the sofa in the dark.
Her steps were exceedingly slow and light, as if she knew the darkness intimately. She bumped into nothing, made no extraneous sound.
She exuded an aura of cold, deathly silence, like a dispassionate observer, or perhaps an avenger, biding her time.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the sofa, her mind replaying the scene she had witnessed through the binoculars at dusk.
Not long after Adrian Lancaster and Wren Sutton had returned home, Sean Sterling arrived.
An unconcealable exhaustion clung to him, and his gait was unsteady.
Not long after he went inside, the Lancaster household was thrown into chaos.
Bodyguards rushed to clear a path. The ambulance lights flashed, piercing the darkness, as a team of paramedics hurried out with a stretcher.
The man on the stretcher was Sean Sterling. She could never be mistaken.
A man who had walked in perfectly healthy was carried out by an ambulance.
The mysterious woman’s fingertips curled, pressing into the edge of the sofa until her knuckles turned white.
’What happened to Sean Sterling? As far as I can remember, he was never in such poor health.’
"Sean Sterling..."
She murmured his name, and it was as if a faint ray of light had pierced her frozen heart.
A long, long time ago, before she was consumed by hatred, before she’d started down this dead-end path, Sean Sterling had been very good to her.
He would tolerate her little tantrums and indulge her, doting on her like an older brother dotes on his little sister.
She would never forget Lucia Lancaster’s birthday. When it was time for pictures, Lucia had pulled Adrian Lancaster and Wren Sutton aside for a photo, leaving her to stand there alone in humiliation.
It was Sean Sterling who had handed her a clean handkerchief and thoughtfully driven her home, protecting her dignity.
She had truly felt his selfless kindness, and it had left a faint warmth in her heart—a pure, brotherly affection and sense of reliance.
She had always cherished that warmth in her heart, but in the end, even that was crushed.
Everything changed when Wren Sutton appeared.
Sean Sterling no longer took her side every time. He would occasionally try to reason with her, telling her to learn to let go and not do anything immoral.
The brotherly warmth she once felt from him gradually faded to nothing.
The stark contrast, and her refusal to accept it, ignited her hatred.
In addition to Adrian Lancaster and Wren Sutton, she hated Sean Sterling, too.
She hated that the person who had once been so gentle and forgiving had ultimately stood against her, becoming another source of her pain.