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“That's it?” asked Shane, frowning deeply.
Sam nodded. “Yes, that's all it said. The letter wasn't hand-written but was typed out using a typewriter. There was
no way for me to trace who it was from or how they found out about my intentions. I worried about it for two days
and then received yet another letter.”
He let out a long sigh of resignation. Knowing he no longer had any hopes of survival, he decided to tell Shane
everything he knew. “This time, the letter sender said they wanted Seth and his wife dead as well and asked me to
collaborate with him. He said he could lead them to a specific spot where I could send someone to kill them in a car
crash. If I agreed to the suggestion, I could contact the sender. The letter ended with a phone number that I could
call.”
“Go on.” Shane lowered his gaze, shielding the look in his eyes, but the chill that radiated from his being was
terrifying, to say the least.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtSam cast a glance in his direction. “Back then, I'd just produced a proposal that was inferior to Seth's, and my
father chastised me severely for my poor performance. The hatred I felt toward Seth had reached the breaking
point. Thus, I called the number stated in the letter, but once the line got through, the person on the other end of
the line hung up without a word. After that, he sent me a text, instructing me to send the men to that street and
await his orders. So, that was what I did. That's all. What else do you want to know?”
His voice had begun to sound quite feeble, and a bleak look entered his eyes.
Shane pinched his nose. “No, that's about all I wanted to know. Good luck to you.”
With that said, he turned and was about to leave when Sam hollered at him, “Stop, Shane! I'm your uncle!”
Hearing that, Shane halted in his tracks and turned back, piercing him with a cold gaze. “So what?”
“Help me this once! I don't want to die! I don't mind being imprisoned for life, but I don't want to die! I—”
“My parents didn't want to die either,” Shane uttered coldly, cutting him off.
Sam's mouth gaped open as he struggled to think of what to say next, but he remained at a complete loss for
words.
Shane went on, “Yet, they still did, and by your hands, too. And now, you're telling me you're my uncle and that I
should show you mercy on account that you're family? Then what about my parents? Were they not your brother
and sister-in-law? Did it not cross your mind that they were family when you killed them?”
“I-I...” Sam couldn't find a response.
“Good luck atoning for your sins with my parents later,” stated Shane as he immediately left the visiting room.
By the time he got back to the Thompson villa, it was already afternoon.
Hearing the sound of the car, Natalie guessed that he was back. She dropped the sketchbook in her hands and
went out to greet him.
He opened the door and came in just as she arrived in the lobby.
“You're back.” Natalie smiled at him.
The tension that had been weighing his heart down instantly evaporated, and his gaze softened as well. “I'm back.”
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm“Welcome back.” Natalie smiled.
Shane then pulled her hand and led her into the living room. “Where are the children?”
“They just went for a nap. Jared's at the Smith residence, clearing Dad's old stuff to see if there's anything we could
give away.”
Shane nodded in understanding.
Just then, Mrs. Wilson came in with two glasses of water.
“How was Sam, Mr. Shane?” she asked, handing them a glass each.
The gentleness in Shane's gaze disappeared. Taking a gulp of water, he answered indifferently, “Aunt Catherine's
divorced him. He's not in a good state.”
“Serves him right,” Mrs. Wilson muttered coldly.
Squeezing his hand, Natalie asked, “What time does his final trial start tomorrow?”
“Two in the afternoon,” replied Shane, putting his glass down.
Natalie smiled. “Let's go together, then.”
“All right.” Shane nodded.
The next day soon came.
Natalie and Shane showed up at Sam's final trial, as did Catherine.
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