Bankshire’s richest man, the pride of the heavens, changed overnight. Hamish’s eyes were filled with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes, chapped lips, and an extremely pale complexion. This winter was undoubtedly the most difficult time he had ever experienced.
It was so cold, a bone-chilling cold that penetrated to the marrow, leaving his entire body numb.
Hamish lowered his gaze, looking at the bracelet on his wrist. He had put on the bracelet Elisa used to wear, and it was a bit tight, causing his wrist to redden from the friction.
He looked down at the decorative small lock on it, a lock that remained unopened, securely clasped even in the midst of a raging fire. But why hadn’t it secured the person?
Holding the lock tightly, a sourness surged in Hamish’s nostrils, the discomfort causing his eyes to sting.
He hung his head, like a hedgehog, displaying a self-protective stance in times of unease, curling his body, back turned, and tugging at the bracelet with a tremble of unbearable burden.
The driver stole a glance at Hamish through the rearview mirror, sighing softly.
The journey to the old Burns family mansion was supposed to take two hours, but the driver drove slowly, taking two and a half hours to arrive, making it already half past twelve, coinciding with Old Burns’s mealtime.
Hamish got out of the car and looked up at the misty sky and the high mountains. An unprecedented heaviness gathered in his heart, on the verge of collapse at any moment.
This was the place where his parents died, and now the person he loved most was gone as well.
Entering, he saw Old Burns and asked directly, “Did you have a hand in Elisa’s death?”
Old Burns seemed to not hear, calmly sipping soup and leisurely tasting the dishes with a fork, occasionally making comments.
“Li, your cooking has improved recently, not bad, not bad…”
Hamish’s expression darkened. He never liked to waste time and preferred to resolve things as quickly as possible. Without hesitation, he went over and with a swift motion, he swept the dishes and cutlery off the table, causing food and soup to splatter everywhere.
The butler and servants serving nearby were startled, but Atonal reacted quickly, pulling Old Burns away. Otherwise, the solid wooden table would have landed on someone’s leg, causing a serious injury.
They avoided the direct impact, but their clothes were inevitably stained with oil, a state of disarray that Old Burns had never experienced in all his years, and it was all thanks to his good grandson.
His hand holding the fork trembled, and Old Burns, indignant, struck out at Hamish.
“Are you trying to kill me for a woman?”
“Is Elisa’s death related to you?”
Hamish’s eyes were deep, like a wintry whirlwind, always giving off a chilly feeling. Even when angry, he employed a kind of covert sabotage, but today’s outburst could only be described in five words: furious enough to kill.
Old Burns clearly felt the killing intent emanating from him, and the servants stood by shivering.
Accustomed to such scenes, this was the first time Old Burns had been stared at by his own grandson with such a murderous look, finding it rather intriguing.
“If I said it was related to me, do you intend to avenge her by killing me?”
“I won’t kill you,” Hamish said calmly, but his eyes were fierce, the veins on his forehead bulging, giving him the look of a ferocious beast, as if he could tear the other party apart at any moment.
“But I will make the entire Burns family pay for her burial!”
“Good, very good,” Old Burns was provoked, taking the cane handed to him by Atonal and striking it hard on the ground. “What a devoted fool you are!”
Old Burns squinted, the kind of intimidation that came from a long-held position of power, something not everyone could endure. He appraised his grandson, as if for the first time truly realizing who he was.
The Burns family never needed deeply emotional people, certainly not someone who went mad for a woman. He never held much regard for Elisa; she was, after all, just a plaything. Moreover, the information he received suggested that Hamish hadn’t treated her well, so he didn’t pay much attention to her. There are plenty of women in this world; if one dies, another will replace her.
What he hadn’t anticipated was the significant place Elisa held in Hamish’s heart, enough to come here and demand answers with such fervor.
Perhaps all of his manners had been thrown out the window.
If he had known that such a day would come, even withoutFinn intervening, he would have taken care of Elisa himself.
This woman was truly a troublemaker, and if she were still alive, she would surely become a major problem.
Hamish didn’t know Old Burns’s thoughts, but from his expression, he knew that Old Burns wasn’t thinking anything good. They shared the same blood, after all, and he understood Old Burns better than anyone.
“I haven’t touched anyone. If you want to know the whole truth, I’ll call Finn,” Old Burns retorted sarcastically. “But don’t blame me for not warning you. Once you know the truth, you’ll have to bear the consequences. You’re almost thirty; no one will coddle you, that’s what you deserve.”
Not knowing the truth can lead to a lifetime of regret, and sometimes the most terrifying part is not even having the right to face it. The changes in the world and people only add to the sorrow, often leaving one with regret in the long years to come.
Hamish stiffened, without hesitation turning and walking towards the reception room.
Old Burns sneered as he watched his retreating figure. After a while, his eyes blurred, and Hamish’s silhouette gradually overlapped with that of his deceased son, equally lonely.
Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder, and his head swayed. Atonal promptly supported him.
“Old Burns, are you alright?”
Old Burns clenched the cane in his hand. With age, even the cane that helped him move was becoming difficult to hold.
“I’m fine,” Old Burns said, resting with Atonal’s help. “I’m no longer of use. This world ultimately belongs to the young. Hamish, my grandson, might be a lost cause from now on.”
Atonal remained silent. Hamish was born with Old Burns’s expectations. He had been intelligent since he was young, and his personality was just like Old Burns’s in his prime. Ruthless. In the old man’s words, he was someone who could accomplish great things.
“It’s partly my fault for not guiding him these past few years. I hope he can move forward after this, not backward. If Elisa’s death can drive Hamish to take over the Burns family, it’s fine. But I fear he might drag the Burns family into the abyss along with him. After Elisa’s death, Hamish became a complete madman.”
…
Upon receiving Atonal’s call, Finn arrived promptly. He was nearby, and it took him only twenty minutes.
The house was heated, and as Finn walked in, he casually took off his coat and tossed it to a servant. Glancing at his wristwatch, he gestured to a subordinate behind him, “Give me a cigarette.”
The subordinate handed him a cigarette, and after Finn placed it in his mouth, the subordinate lit it for him with deference.
Finn squinted, took a deep drag, and exhaled a thin plume of bluish-white smoke. Waving it away, he pushed open the door to the reception room, where Hamish was seated.
Seeing Hamish inside, Finn’s narrow eyes arched upwards as he tauntingly remarked, “Well, well, haven’t seen you in a week. How did you manage to become such a wreck? Looks like Elisa’s death has hit you hard.”
“It was you who started the fire,” Hamish didn’t question; he sought confirmation.
“Are you here to find out who started the fire? Or do you want the truth? Or perhaps you’re here to deflect responsibility?” Finn spoke, cigarette in hand, flicking off the ash that fell from his fingertips. Leaning against the wall, he mockingly observed Hamish’s reddened eyes. “Do you truly love Elisa, Hamish?”
This is not the first time someone has asked him like this; he used to not care, thinking of Elisa as nothing more than a tool for pregnancy. But when she wanted a divorce, he felt uncomfortable, failing to realize Elisa’s unique presence. He simply thought she was disobeying him, and that if anyone were to file for divorce, it shouldn’t have been Elisa.
He was so arrogant, believing that as long as he held the kite string, no matter how far she flew, he could just reach out and tug her back to him. But he forgot that in this world, there are too many unforeseeable accidents, such as a strong wind being enough to snap the taut kite string.
“Hamish, you are still the same, so obstinate and arrogant. You are selfish, taking things for granted. It’s only when you lose something that you regret it. In harsher terms, a leopard can’t change its spots. Do you truly love Elisa? No, you only regret that the woman died before satisfying your selfish desires.”
The cigarette between his fingers had burned to the end, singeing his trembling fingertips. Finn, with cold eyes, did not release him. This kind of pain, he had inflicted it on Elisa not less than five or six times before, pressing the cigarette ash into the open wounds, turning them black.
Finn didn’t care about a former plaything; he only cared about how to make Hamish suffer. Killing is the ultimate revenge; indeed, Elisa’s death did not disappoint him.
“I am not a good person, but I never deny the fact that I am a villain, unlike you, pretending to be righteous. You say you love her, but the one who left her physically and mentally shattered is you.”
“Do you not understand what you did to her? You killed her father, two children, and even that idiot she always liked. How will you repay her for those lives?”
“That fire, to be precise, was Elisa’s ‘voluntary request.’ Through me, she sought revenge on you, completing a generous act of self-sacrifice.”
His voice was haunting, “Hamish, look at what you have driven her to. You made her end her life in such a painful way.”
The room’s heating was on full blast, yet Hamish felt no warmth. It was as if he stood in the icy snow, his cold fingers clenched tightly, as if the blood had frozen, turning into sharp ice, twisting his insides.
He didn’t want to hear Finn speak, but his voice seemed to shout through his soul, forcing him to face a terrifying truth after another, each one unbearable.
“In fact, you know better than anyone else. She would die because you drove her to it step by step. You hate me for torturing Elisa, leaving over a hundred scars on her body. But who delivered her into my hands? You claim to be deeply affectionate, promising to treat her gastric cancer. Have you forgotten who, for four years, continuously drained her of blood, harming her health? She died in the fire, and who had made her disabled, confined to a wheelchair, unable to move even to escape the flames?”
Finn’s speech quickened, watching Hamish’s shattered expression. His gaze became increasingly mocking. He tossed the cigarette and approached Hamish, using a tone of unprecedented indifference, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in Hamish’s heart.
“Hamish, you must admit, this time it wasn’t you losing her; it was her rejecting you.”