Chapter 3

Mitchell got up and slithered out of the room before he returned just moments later, pushing a wheelchair in front of him.

Yvonne saw who it was sitting in the wheelchair, and blood welled out of her eyes instead of tears as she shrieked throatily, "FATHER!"

Her rough voice no longer held the grace it once carried, and when the man in the wheelchair saw her, even he could not help convulsing in horror involuntarily.

Yet despite repressing his reaction to be nearly imperceptible, it failed to escape Mitchell's keen senses.

The tall young man's pupils contracted furiously as he grabbed at the scruff of Yancy's shirt, raising him from his chair before delivering a heavy blow to his face. "I knew it! You have been pretending all along, old man!" He glowered with fierceness blazing in his eyes in place of his usual demure reticence.

Mitchell had recorded how he mutilated and tortured Yvonne, and every time he showed it to her father, Yancy would persistently wear the guise of a demented senile man to prevent passing to him the wealth of the Stones and all its accompanying papers!

Meanwhile, the official will of the Stones would stand; in the event of the Stones'—Yancy, Yvonne's mother, Yvonne, and Zane—demise, the wealth of House Stone would be donated to various international charity organizations.

For this very reason, Mitchell refrained from murdering every member of the Stones, and thus, he could only resort to tormenting Yancy in the hopes of slowly crippling him mentally.

Yvonne watched as Mitchell beat her father, firmly jerking the cuffs that held her, causing the steel to bite into her flesh, rendering her wrists into a bloody mess. She roared in a raucous voice, "Stop it, Mitchell! Stop!"

Just then, Yancy clambered up to his feet, his knees wobbling madly, threatening to give way. In just three years, Yancy Stone, the number one neurosurgeon of the country, had become a mere shadow of his former glorious and impressive self. He now looked like a dying man, and with what final strength he could muster, he lunged for the surgical scalpel in Yvette's hand.

But Mitchell was faster. He dove in between Yvette and Yancy, sent a powerful kick at his foster father, and snatched the surgical blade from her hand. Casually, he marched to Yvonne's bed and slashed at her wrists mercilessly!

For two decades, he lived and grew up with the Stones. He had learned from Yancy himself how to sever a person's tendons without nicking an artery.

In just a few strokes, Yvonne's hands fell lifelessly by her side. She groaned with pain and suffering, watching through her bloodied eyes the morbid sight of blood dripping off her fingers and splattering onto the ground.

Those lean and slender fingers, which were once beautiful and graceful, were now bony and scrawny like the withered twigs of a dying tree.

At the other end of the room, Yancy, with a newfound burst of strength, clambered to his feet, eager to give his all in one last bout against Mitchell.

But with just another kick, he was sent down hard to the cold floor, panting for breath.

On her bed, Yvonne cawed desperately, like the death rattle of a dying beast, lamenting her inability to do anything but watch as her loved one was being tortured and humiliated to death!

"God in heaven!" Mitchell sighed. "Wealth is but only worldly vanity of man. Yet your father just seems to... cling so strongly to his money... I'm afraid we'll have to opt for the last resort..."

That could only mean taking hold of Zane; he would hold on to him until he reached adulthood. By then, even without the necessary documentation, Zane could still become the recipient of the Stones' wealth.

Mitchell would then coerce Zane to hand over the money! It would be a piece of cake! But he was unwilling to wait for another four years!

Mitchell thought of an idea, and he shot a knowing look at Yvette, who quickly understood him.

She left the room and came back, rolling in a barrel of oil, and Yvonne instantly realized what they were going to do!

They wished to burn them to death and destroy every shred of evidence of their murder!

Undoubtedly, the headlines the next morning about their death would read:

"Renowned Ushgulian neurosurgeon Yancy Stone was killed yesterday in a tragic accident as he was out yachting when his boat caught on fire. Along with him was his private nurse..."

Yvonne flinched and winced as gasoline was poured on her, and right when the first spark of flames began, she swore: "Just give me one chance! One more chance to reincarnate! I want nothing! I only want revenge!"

She had but one last worry; her 11-year-old little brother, Zane. No one knew what woe and suffering would await him, now that he remained nothing more than a mute imprisoned by the enemy who had betrayed his family.

Tears rolled down Yvonne's disfigured cheek as she struggled with the agonizing pain that spread through her very body and soul, while flames licked at her, burning her alive. With her ebbing consciousness, she breathed softly, "We're going, Zane... Me, Father, and Mother... I'm sorry we cannot be with you anymore... Take care of yourself... You need to grow strong... As long as you're alive, there is hope..."

The flames burned for an entire night before the yacht finally listed and sank into the dark depths of the dawn tide, leaving only bits of scorched-black flotsam and churning white bubbles in its wake.