Chapter 365: The Twisted Pleasure of Revenge
Deep in the night, the old residential building was pitch-black, save for a small, third-floor apartment where a single desk lamp cast a dim, yellow glow.
Claire Bennett, wrapped in a dark overcoat and wearing a mask, knocked lightly on the door. Her fingertips were cool and composed.
From inside came the sound of frantic footsteps, mingled with the faint sobs of a child.
A moment later, the door creaked open a narrow crack.
The woman on the other side was disheveled and gaunt, her eyes riddled with bloodshot veins.
When she saw Claire Bennett standing outside, her face filled with terror.
"It’s you... How dare you come here."
The woman’s voice was hoarse and trembling. She clenched her teeth, her eyes swirling with intense fear and a hatred she couldn’t suppress.
She abruptly pulled the door open, intending to shove Claire out, but she was too weak to muster any strength.
The room was thick with the heavy smell of smoke and mildew. Two young children huddled on a worn-out sofa, too scared to make a sound.
The woman quickly turned to shield the children behind her. When she looked back at Claire, her eyes were bloodshot, and tears welled up instantly.
"You destroyed my family, you monster."
Claire pushed her way inside, her gaze sweeping coldly across the room.
In the dilapidated apartment, the man’s memorial portrait had not yet been hung.
She averted her eyes in disgust, her icy stare settling on the truck driver’s wife.
"I destroyed you? You’re the one who agreed to it. And you’re the one who convinced him to drink and drive tonight."
The woman shook her head, stumbling back a step. "But I never wanted him to die! I never meant for anyone to get killed!"
"You said that if I just coaxed him into having a few drinks and then driving the route you gave me, you’d give me money afterward so we could escape this miserable life."
"But you never said it would lead to deaths! That he would die, and drag another driver down with him. It was you. You turned me into a murderer."
The woman was filled with hate. She hated herself for having been so foolish, and she hated the insidious, cunning woman standing before her.
But more than that, she was afraid. Afraid of being exposed, afraid of legal trouble, afraid that she and her children would have no way to survive.
"You handed him the drinks. You told him the route." Claire advanced on her, her presence overwhelming. "Don’t play innocent now. The accident happened. Two dead, one critically injured."
"You forced me to do it!" The woman covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably. "You forced me..."
Claire scoffed dismissively.
"When your husband was alive, how did he treat you? How did he beat the children? You were living in hell every day. I’m the one who gave you a way out."
"Now, he’s dead. You and your children will never have to take another beating. You’ll never have to suffer in silence again."
"The money I gave you is enough for you and your two children to live abroad for the rest of your lives. The kids can even get the best education. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?"
"But he was my husband. He was their father," the woman choked out, tears streaming down her face, her heart filled with despair and conflict.
"I have blood on my hands. I’ll live with this guilt for the rest of my life."
Claire’s tone grew even colder, frustrated by the woman’s weakness.
"Guilt won’t put food on the table, and it certainly won’t protect your children."
"This is no time to be sentimental. Right now, there’s no evidence linking you to the crash. As long as you leave Aston, you and your children will be completely free."
"If you dare say a word, if you stay here, forget the police—the Lancaster family will never let you go."
"The car your husband hit belonged to Adrian Lancaster of The Rhodes Group. Besides him, his wife and two children were in the car."
"Their driver is already dead. Adrian Lancaster is still in the operating room, and it’s uncertain if he’ll survive."
"The Lancaster family won’t let this go. With their power and influence, if they really start investigating, it won’t be long before they trace it back to you."
"Your husband is dead, so the Lancasters will pin all the blame on you and your children. If you fall into their hands, do you think you’ll have any chance of survival?"
That last sentence completely shattered the woman’s psychological defenses.
She trembled, looking at her shivering children, and her entire being seemed to collapse.
She finally understood. There was no turning back.
Claire watched the woman’s complete breakdown and submission without a flicker of emotion on her face.
"The driver is waiting downstairs. Pack your things. You leave in ten minutes. And never come back."
...
In a pitch-black room with the curtains drawn tight, it was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Only the faint glow of a phone screen cut through the darkness.
After reading the top news reports about the day’s car crash, Claire expressionlessly tossed her phone aside.
A hidden corner of her heart ached dully.
’This meticulously planned crash... her target had always been Wren Sutton.’
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Wren Sutton had only sustained minor scrapes, while Adrian Lancaster was lying critically injured on the operating table, his life hanging in the balance.
An incredibly complex mix of emotions churned within Claire. She had never intended to truly harm Adrian Lancaster, much less kill him.
Even though Adrian had hurt her so deeply, even though she hated him to the bone, a part of her still clung to a youthful obsession, to a love that had long since soured but which she couldn’t let go of.
Beneath this heartache lay a twisted, cold, and frantic satisfaction from her revenge.
She loved Adrian, and she hated him.
She hated him for betraying her, for betraying their childhood promise. She had saved him, and he had promised he would marry her when they grew up.
But in the end? He married Wren Sutton and even had two children with that woman.
Worse, he had actually fallen in love with Wren and was treating her better and better.
Claire’s face twisted into a snarl. Her chest heaved as she panted with suppressed rage.
"Adrian Lancaster, you were the one who wronged me first. Consider this car crash your punishment."
"I don’t want you to die, but I don’t want you to get off easy either."
"You were ruthless to me first, so don’t blame me for being even more ruthless than you."
"Because of you, I’ve become this... this monster, neither human nor ghost. Yet you still favored that bitch Wren Sutton, and condemned me for life..."
Claire looked down at her left leg, and tears streamed down her face.
A moment later, she covered her ears and let out an agonized scream.
"My leg! My leg! Wren Sutton, give me back my leg!"
After some time, Claire finished venting her emotions. She wiped away her tears and quickly got up and went into the bedroom.
She entered a password, opened a safe, and took everything out from inside, tossing it all into a high-temperature incinerator.
She watched as the phone, the chip, and the handwritten route map slowly melted in the intense flames, eventually turning into charred ash.
Then, Claire took out a burner phone and dialed a secret number.
"Finish the cleanup immediately. All relevant surveillance footage of the intersection—delete what you can, and alter or overwrite what you can’t."
"Everyone who had any contact with this matter is to be sent out of the country at once. They are never to set foot in Aston again, and they are not to breathe a word of this to anyone."
"As for that pitiful, stupid woman and her two children, keep them under secret surveillance. Watch their every move."
"Not going to tie up all the loose ends?" the person on the other end asked.
Claire hesitated for a moment, her eyes devoid of any warmth. "Leave them for now. But if they start talking nonsense, then you don’t need to leave a single one of them alive."
"Understood."
After hanging up, Claire dismantled the burner phone, and along with the SIM card, threw it into the incinerator.
The hum of the high-temperature incinerator gradually died down as the last spark extinguished inside the metal chamber, leaving a pungent, burnt smell in the air.
She opened the window, and a cold wind rushed in. The snarl on her face slowly faded, replaced by a mask of cold numbness.
"Adrian Lancaster, you have to live."
"Don’t die... please, don’t die..."