“Mr. Burns, Winifred Dawson is truly dead.” Henry usually called Leland Burns “boss,” but this time he addressed him as “Mr. Burns.”
His tone was unusually serious, his eyes unblinking as he firmly delivered the news to Leland Burns.
Leland Burns opened his mouth, resembling a fish stranded on shore. He tried to deny it but found himself unable to speak. His heart felt as if it were being tightened by an iron chain, growing tighter and tighter. The pain made him instinctively release Wesley and clutch his own chest.
His heart was still beating, but why did it feel like it had stopped?
His legs staggered backward uncontrollably, as if he had slipped. Wesley, standing in front of him, quickly caught him and helped him into a chair.
This harsh reality was something Leland Burns had to digest on his own; no amount of words from others could ease his pain.
Now it was just a matter of when Leland Burns could accept it.
…
When Henry received the news that “Winifred Dawson is dead,” he too felt weak and blank-minded, momentarily unable to think or figure out how to tell Leland Burns.
There was no way to muddle through this; it couldn’t be delayed for long, and Leland Burns had given them a week. Prolonged pain was worse than short-term pain; knowing sooner was better than later. He splashed cold water on his face, drank a can of Red Bull, and set off with Wesley to “Autumn Joy Estate.”
Along the way, they prepared mentally, thinking of how to break the news gently to Leland Burns without causing him to lose control.
It felt like reaching into a cage to feed a ferocious beast, ready at any moment to have their hand bitten off.
Henry thought he could handle the pressure and say what needed to be said. But facing Leland Burns, he faltered and retreated, leaving Wesley to deliver the news.
The calmer Leland Burns had been before, the more furious he became now. The contrast in his expression was stark, as if he had become a different person in an instant.
Fearing that Leland Burns might lash out at Wesley, Henry watched Leland’s hands closely. His arm muscles bulged with veins, looking terrifyingly powerful. A punch from those fists could likely disfigure someone.
Suddenly, a sound broke the tense silence. Henry glanced over to see Mrs. Protich, who had been standing at the kitchen door, collapsed on the floor with her eyes tightly shut.
Henry had always had a good impression of Mrs. Protich; she was a gentle woman. Seeing her suddenly faint made Henry panic. He rushed over and picked her up.
He gradually regained his composure and began making phone calls to arrange for Mrs. Protich to be taken to the hospital while observing her condition.
She likely fainted from hearing that “Winifred Dawson is dead,” unable to accept it momentarily but not in immediate danger.
After sending Mrs. Protich to the hospital, Henry turned back to see Leland Burns slumped in his chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His face was expressionless; his eyes were blank and misty with tears that had unknowingly formed. He stared dazedly at the back of his hand as if his soul had left him.
Henry looked at him worriedly and trembled as he called out softly, “Boss.”
That single word brought him back. Leland blinked, and a tear fell from his eye onto the back of his hand.
Henry was stunned; he had known Leland Burns for quite some time and had seen many sides of him-arrogant and high-handed, restless and anxious, calm and confident in strategizing, even panicked-but never like this: shedding tears in soul-crushing pain.
In Henry’s memory, Leland Burns had always been strong enough to solve any problem. Even when betrayed by Winifred Dawson and imprisoned, he remained composed, orchestrating everything from within and faking his death to escape and take down the Burkhart family in no time.
Leland Burns wasn’t afraid of death itself but now shed tears upon hearing Winifred Dawson’s death.
Hadn’t he said he’d moved on? Hadn’t he claimed not to care about Winifred Dawson anymore? So why was he crying now?
Leland Burns lifted his head; his vulnerability made Henry’s heart tremble. Instinctively stepping back a little, Henry found this fragile version of Leland even harder to face than an enraged one.
Leland opened his mouth: “She’s not dead… I feel like I’m dreaming…” As he spoke, he slammed his hand down hard on the table.
But he forgot about the broken glass shards still there.
Fortunately, Wesley had been watching him closely. He rushed over and pulled Leland’s hand away from the table just in time but still slightly too late.
“It doesn’t hurt…”