GBYR - Chapter 74



Franz sat in a tree overlooking Catherine Beckett's farmhouse. A silent laugh escaped his lips.

As expected. Madam Leticia was right. She said that if that bastard Michael finds the woman, he might try to hide her.

He had a feeling Michael was up to something when he said he was going to rest in his room because of food poisoning. So Franz followed him, and sure enough, he personally guided him to his target.

He remembered the Duchess’ promise. She had promised a much greater reward than the sapphire. Franz frowned slightly as he climbed down from the tree. Getting the woman’s neck was a piece of cake, but Michael would not be easy. He was quite a formidable opponent. If possible, he had to strike from behind...

The door opened with a squeak. Franz stopped his thoughts and stared straight ahead. The target was walking out of the house. Franz slowly pulled out the dagger he had tucked into his trouser pocket. The woman began to walk toward the square.

Fortunately, the cartwheel and the children had already passed through the alley, so there was no one there. Now was the chance. He had to rush in and hug him, stab him in the heart, and drag him to this flower bed. Unlike the area around the lake, there were no gas lights in the alley. The darkness between the trees would completely hide his crime.

Michael glanced around the broken alley and caught a shadow moving on the tree branches. His eyes could discern movement in the darkness like a nocturnal animal. His heart pounded and his legs moved on their own.

As soon as the dark object landed under the tree, the door opened on Angie's side. She appeared under the porch. Angie immediately started walking towards the alley where he was. At that moment, Michael saw the shadow following her, and the tip of the blade flashing.

It was Franz. A cavalryman of the Dervan family was given to him by Leticia.

Leticia had wanted to get rid of Angie from the beginning. Of course, from her perspective, she would want Angie dead. To completely dispel Kyle's obsession and solidify her position, it would be best if Angie Ridsdel completely disappeared from the world.

“Angie!”

Michael ran towards her at full speed. At the same time, he put one hand on his bosom and pulled it out, throwing it at the shadow. Huh, a short, final scream flowed out and dispersed into the night air. As if responding to that sound, the village dogs all barked loudly.

Angie looked back, startled. A man with his cloak pulled up from his head was on his knees, shaking with a small dagger stuck in the middle of his neck. His face was monstrous, with his eyes showing the whites of their eyes as if they were going to burst, his face spasming violently and spewing blood from his mouth.

Angie tried to scream but covered her mouth with both hands. Her instincts were ringing a loud alarm bell. The man was after her. She could tell that he was after her, either to restrain her and drag her away or to suffocate her.

“Angie! Are you okay... are you okay?”

Michael ran over and grabbed her shoulder, looking her over. He seemed to have run with all his might, her breathing was all messed up. His once agitated purple eyes were now filled with relief. Behind them, a body collapsed and fell.

“Michael, this guy..."

"Wait for a second."

Michael looked around and moved quickly. He had to do it quickly before anyone saw it. He grabbed the body by its two legs and dragged it to the flower bed on the other side, hiding it between the trees. Then he looked back at Angie. She had already followed him and was trembling slightly. It seemed that she understood the situation at a glance.

“Angie.”

“How... What happened? Who the hell is this person...”

Angie sank to the ground, her legs giving out. The dagger the man had dropped just before she fell remained clearly visible in her vision. If it weren't for Michael, she would have lost her life to that sword.

“Leticia... He is the confidant of Duchess Leticia Blackwell.”

"What...?"

“I’m sorry, Angie. I guess I somehow lured the assassin here. That’s what happened.”

Angie blinked in shock. Leticia? Why her? Wasn't she doing well as the mistress of the Blackwell household, married to Kyle for three years?

“No, Angie. There’s no time to talk anymore. Go home and pack your bags. You have to get out of here. Leticia won’t let you stay still.”

And Kyle too.

Michael swallowed his words and quickly lifted Angie up. It was time to come to her senses. He was in a desperate situation. Fortunately, Angie was also trying to recover from the shock and confusion and face reality. Even in her pale face, her two eyes were shining clearly.

“I have to leave right now? But I can’t just leave Grandma Catherine like that. If something happens because of me... And Aunt Line.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the body right away and make sure the old woman is safe. Hurry up, pack your things, and leave the house. That’s the only way to get the old woman out of danger.”

“Ah... Yes.”

“Angie, do you trust me? You can’t trust anyone else in this situation, but you have to trust me. I have always been and will always be...”

Michael couldn't continue speaking and trailed off. She wouldn't know. When he married Charlotte on the condition of staying at the Duke's house, when he spent his first night with her, and during the many nights he spent with her, he always superimposed Angie on his wife's face.

A bitter smile flowed. This obsession and affection that doesn't know how to fade even after death must be the same for Kyle. Is this the only thing that these half-brothers have in common?

But unlike him, Kyle has never slept with Leticia. He has never even slept in the same bed. As far as he knows, that is. Kyle has been completely celibate for three years, not even allowing himself to be slept on by another woman.

“I trust you, Michael. You are my precious friend... and I believe you think of me the same way.”

Angie drew the line with her gaze down. Aside from the fact that she had just owed him her life and that she would owe him again in the future, she had no intention of deceiving either of them. Michael suppressed a hollow laugh and gently pushed her toward the alley.

“Just bring your valuables and come right away.”

Angie turned and ran toward the house. Her legs were still shaking, but the thought of Noah gave her strength.

She couldn't believe that Leticia was trying to kill her. If Leticia found out about Noah's existence, she would definitely try to harm the baby. Regardless of the Eternity ritual, just the fact that it was the child between Kyle and Angie would definitely kill Noah. Angie's blood was boiling.

Under the bright moon, the cheerful noises around were prominent. The barking of dogs had died down, but people's cheerful chatter and laughter were getting louder. Everyone seemed to be flocking to the night market. Angie had just arrived in front of a small farmhouse.

Something was strange. Just a moment ago, Mrs. Line was preparing dinner, but there was no sound. All the windows were closed. Not a single ray of warmth, not a single ray of light from a kerosene lamp or candle, escaped outside.

Catherine had suffered trauma during two major wars and hated the dark. She had a habit of leaving at least a few candles on before going to bed.

An ominous feeling of foreboding came over her. Angie opened the door without hesitation. Cold darkness and cold air greeted her. Her heart pounded like crazy. She reached out and lit a candle.

The house was completely empty. Half-sliced ​​bread and chunks of cheese were strewn about in the kitchen. A pot of soup, fresh from the oven, was still steaming.

“Mrs. Line? Where are you, ma’am?... Grandmother!”

Angie burst open Catherine's bedroom door. The bed was empty. The inside of her stomach grew cold and a chill ran through her body. What if? What could it be? The situation she had feared the most but believed would never actually happen was unfolding before her eyes.

A piece of paper was neatly laid out on the disheveled sheets of the quilt. Angie put the kerosene down on the nightstand and grabbed the paper. Under the dim light, the neatly written handwriting became familiar. It was a handwriting that was dry, concise, clear, dignified, sharp, and at the same time overflowingly warm.

"There's a carriage waiting at the back gate. If you want to see Grandma Catherine safe, get on it and come here. If you ask for help, it will harm the person. Remember, depending on what you do, the whole town could disappear."

The letter fluttered from Angie's hands. Her heart was pounding. 

My dear Angie. 

Your Kai. 

There was no such thing anywhere. Maybe someone had copied Kyle's handwriting. But her instincts were strong enough to sense the truth.


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