In the imperial capital, in the suburbs.

Dozens of mangled male corpses were scattered around in disarray.

The blood seeping from their wounds dyed the ground a dark red.

The large abandoned factory was filled with a nauseating smell of blood, making it bad to a human health.

"President Luther," Ramsey, looking at the man with blood trickling from his mouth, cautiously started to speak.

"Your wife... she's already dead. You..." Since discovering his wife's body, Sinclair Luther has thrown up blood twice.

If this continued, his old illness would relapse, and the consequences would be unthinkable.

"Shut up!" Sinclair interrupted Ramsey, his handsome face bearing an intimidating harshness.

However, when he turned to look at Camilla, his demeanor softened again.

"She's not dead.

She won't die."

As he spoke, he gently lifted Camilla into his arms and proceeded to walk out, his actions careful, as if he were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

"Camilla, don't be scared, I'll take you home."

Sinclair steps over the corpses of the assassins, his handsome face showing a chillingly sinister aura.

"Chop these bodies into pieces and feed them to the dogs."

Ramsey nods

Luther Residence.

The madam is dead?!

Seeing Sinclair carrying Camilla's body, everyone was scared into a deathly pallor, frozen in place.

They knew that Mrs. Camilla Luther is the life of Mr. Sinclair Luther.

Now, it seems that the sky is about to fall on the Luther Family.

With this in mind, everyone was so frightened that they didn't dare to breathe.

The huge mansion fell into an eerie and absolute silence.

Ramsey didn't dare to delay, and immediately sent people to inform Mr. Sinclair's Grandpa of the situation.

In the room.

Cleaned and dressed in a white long dress, Camilla lay quietly on the bed.

Her face was beautiful, and her long, wavy hair lazily sprawled on the pillow.

Besides the ghastly strangulation marks on her neck and her absence of breath, she looked as if she was merely asleep.

Sinclair sat at the edge of the bed quietly observing Camilla, his dark, whirling, ink-colored eyes contained an almost consuming tenderness.

Outside, the last thread of light completely faded away, plunging the entire world into darkness.

"Camilla," He caressed Camilla's cheek, his voice was exceedingly hoarse.

"In the end, you still hated me, didn't you?"

Gently stroking Camilla's hand, his raging scarlet eyes were filled with self-mockery and sorrow.

"You resented me for using unscrupulous methods to keep you by my side."

"You hated me for restricting your freedom."

"You despised my obsessive possessiveness."

"You hated... everything ABOUT me."

A mocking, bleak smile played on his face. "But, what can I do?"

Sinclair started to chuckle with his narrow, elongated ink-colored eyes, they were just like a pool of stagnant water.

"My world is dark and sordid.

You were the only light that slipped in.

Once I touched it – even once, I couldn't let go."

He quietly looked at Camilla for a long, long time, then leaned down and kissed her lips.

"Rest assured, I'll make sure those who hurt you have no place to rest in death."

Sinclair left the room with firm steps.

"Wait for me, I won't be long."

The aura of ruthless killing intent that radiated from him made the air almost congeal.

Sinclair was unaware that the spirit of Camilla was standing laconically by his side.

For reasons unknown, after her death, her soul was trapped within a radius of three meters of Sinclair.

Unable to leave, unable to escape.

If he moved, she could only follow.

Camilla curled her lips slightly, her eyes filled with helplessness.

She didn't expect that even after her death, Sinclair was still unwilling to let her go.

However, what Camilla wanted to know most at this moment was: Who was it that sent the people who murdered her?

Her thoughts traced back to what happened before the incident.

Camilla received a call saying that her uncle had suddenly fallen ill and was sent to her hospital.

Upon receiving the news, she drove to the destination as fast as she could.

Unexpectedly, halfway there, a truck suddenly sped towards her without any warning.

With such close proximity, and the truck out of control, it was too late for her to dodge.

After a fierce whirl of heaven and earth, she was dragged out of the car and taken to an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of town.

Later, she was strangled to death. It was only when Sinclair held her lifeless body in his arms that she regained consciousness.

Of course, by then, she was already in the form of a spirit.

At that moment, "Cre-eak--"

The sound of a door opening interrupted her recollections.

The scene before her eyes made her pupils contract sharply.

Inside a dimly lit basement.

The dampness mixed with the pungent smell of blood was filling the air.

Ten or so people, bled and beaten, their hands bound, were suspended in mid-air, toes barely brushing the floor.

Many among them had already stopped breathing, whilst the remaining few were barely hanging on.

This hellish scene in the underground was enough to cause Camilla's pupils to shrink in horror.

She knew Sinclair could be cruel and ruthless. But knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes were two different things.

"Mm... mm... mm." "Mm.. mm.."

Seeing Sinclair walk in, those few still alive could not help but tremble, letting out weak, whimpering sounds.

Camilla could clearly see the deep-seated fear in their eyes. Ramsey stepped forward. "President Luther--"

"Just kill them all."

Sinclair's thin lips parted slightly, his narrow eyes like bloody whirlpools, devoid of any hint of life.

"Bring in the next batch."

"Yes."

Ramsey nodded, signaling his subordinates.

Immediately, more than ten mercenaries stepped forward, swiftly stabbing their daggers into the hearts of the people hanging there.

Then, they dragged away the corpses.

This scene was extremely cruel, yet the expressions of those present remained normal.

Except Camilla. Of course, she did not sympathize with these killers who had harmed her.

It was her first time witnessing such a scene.

In the past, Sinclair would never have shown her this violent and brutal side of himself.

Not long after, another dozen people were brought in. "

Just ask once," Sinclair took out a cigar with his beautiful and slender hand and ignited it.

The hazy white smoke covered his handsome face, a face devoid of any warmth.

"If they don't talk, cut off their tongues and limbs and throw them into the snake pit."

His voice was calm, but it contained a terrifying murderous intent that was suffocating.

Upon hearing this, the crowd of people being led in couldn't help but constrict their pupils and tremble uncontrollably.

Ramsey understood.

"Tell me, who's behind all this?"

Camilla remained by Sinclair's side, watching him deal with batch after batch of offenders.

Until she recognized a well-known name. -- Augustin.

Having gotten the answer he wanted, Sinclair returned to the room.

What? The person who hired a killer to assassinate her was her uncle?!

Camilla followed him back to the room in a daze, disbelief etched on her face.

Her uncle was her only relative in the world.

Why would he do such a thing?

She would never have believed it if she hadn't heard it from the assassins herself.

While Camilla was deep in thought, Sinclair shut himself in the bathroom, washing over and over.

Only when he was certain that not a trace of the pungent smell of blood was left, did he put on his pajamas and lay down next to Camilla.

"Camilla, don't be afraid,"

He wraps his arms around Camilla's waist, buries his head into her neck, and murmurs as he had done many times before, "Just two more days, at most.

Please wait for me."

Two days?

Upon hearing these words, Camilla's spirit wrinkled her brows.

She had a premonition that what Sinclair was going to do was not as simple as avenging her.

The day after Camilla's death.

Sinclair picked countless white roses and piled them up around Camilla, with a hook of desperate laughter on his slightly upturned lips.

White roses were Camilla's favorite flower and the only flowers that grew in the Fu's mansion.

The hundreds, if not thousands of them were picked one by one by Sinclair that morning.

Looking at the crisscrossing scars on Sinclair's well-knit fingers, Camilla felt an unexplainable pain in her heart.

She let out a sigh.

"Why are you doing all this?" Before her voice fell, Sinclair's voice rang out.

"As long as Camile likes it, I am willing to do anything."

Was Sinclair really able to hear her words? Camilla took a step back, instinctively covering her mouth.

She waved her hand in front of Sinclair, only lowering it when she was sure he couldn't see her.

After kissing Camilla's cold lips, Sinclair left the room.

Of course, Camilla's spirit followed Sinclair into the basement.

A middle-aged man was shackled to a pillar.

His once refined face now completely unrecognizable.

He looked at the entering Sinclair, as if seeing a reaper from hell, his despair and fear reaching its peak.

"Mr. Luther, why have you captured me?"

Although his words were interrogative, his tone was more like begging.

Camilla's spirit stood before Augustin.

Looking at the panic and fear in his eyes, her own eyes were filled with disappointment and mockery.

Having known Augustin as family, she understood him.

If he had done nothing wrong, he wouldn't have acted in such a way.

Camilla's face was filled with sorrow. How ridiculous.

The person she treated and respected as family, hired someone to kill her.

The one she desperately tried to escape from, is now avenging her.

She was wrong, utterly wrong from the start.

"What are you doing?" Sinclair had grabbed Augustin by the neck, his expression ferocious and manic.

"My Camilla, I can't bear to even hurt a single hair on her."

Ferocity swept across his handsome features, his eyes a fiery red, like a crazed beast.

"Augustin, how dare you kill her, how dare you?!"

Sinclair's grip tightened along with the murderous aura radiating from his body.

Soon, Augustin stopped breathing.

"Starting with you, I'm going to bring down the whole Sanchez family, to accompany Camilla in the afterlife!!"

Camilla stared at the obsessed and gloomy man in front of her.

She felt no disgust, only heartache.

She walked up to Sinclair, reaching out to caress his furrowed brows.

"Sinclair, I'm sorry."

Sinclair seemed to have sensed something.

His trembling hands paused momentarily, his eyes instantly focusing on where Camilla's soul was.

But the next moment, he let out a self-mocking laugh.

Camilla, in her drowsy state, followed Sinclair back to the study, busying themselves into the night.

But they didn't notice what he was doing. It wasn't until the early morning that Sinclair finally returned to the bedroom.

He lay again in slumber with Camilla's now completely rigid corpse in his arms.

Camilla just sat quietly on the sofa in the room, watching this scene.

Another night had passed.

The room was piled with even more white roses, like a garden.

Camilla's corpse was lying quietly in the midst of them.

There wasn't the slightest hint of horror; instead, there was a sense of serene beauty.

But there was a difference.

Quite a number of people had entered the usually restricted bedroom, which only Sinclair could enter.

Judging from their attire, they were monks, priests, and even Bishops.

"These people?"

A subconscious unease washed over Camilla, who was now a spirit.

Could it be that Sinclair had detected her presence and called these people over to seize her?

Also feeling uneasy was Ramsey, who stood behind several others.

Ever since the Lady had passed away, Mr. Luther had been behaving unusually.

He always had a dire premonition.

But before the old master arrived, he had no power to stop Mr. Luther, nor did he dare to.

"The requirements remain the same," Sinclair didn't deign to recognize his entrants.

His hands softly played with a loose strand of hair that had fallen to Camilla's ear, his gaze full of crazed obsession, "I want her to be forever chained to me, generation after generation, for all eternity, never being able to leave, regardless of life or death."

To be bound to him forever, generation after generation, for all eternity?

Camilla's heart started to pound. She looked at Sinclair's expression with complex feelings.

Was the reason that her spirit was now trapped and unable to leave his side due to this intention?

Sinclair's affection for her had indeed reached an obsessive and insane level.

"Rest assured, President Luther, we will do our utmost."

After nodding their heads, they started their operations one after another.

This unorthodox ritual lasted from morning to night, a good seven to eight hours.

It wasn't until late into the night that it came to an end.

During this time, each of the masters took several turns to rest, yet Sinclair held onto the already stiff corpse of Camilla, accompanying it at the sidelines from beginning to end.

He didn't move, didn't shift his gaze, only the atmosphere around him became increasingly lonely and heavy.

It was as if he was the only one left in the world.

Looking at Sinclair in such a state, there was an inexplicable bitterness in Camilla's heart.

"Mr. Luther," Tyle was the first to speak.

"The ritual is over, we..." "Ramsey," Sinclair interrupted him.

"Transfer ten million to each of their accounts, send them back to the hotel, and also," He looked at Camilla, a hint of murky darkness flickered in the depths of his eyes.

"Dismiss everyone in Luther's mansion, tonight, I want to be alone with Camilla."

Dismiss everyone?

Upon hearing this, a sense of inexplicable unease flashed through Ramsey's heart again.

"Mr. Luther--" "Ramsey," Sinclair's voice deepened, carrying an air of unquestionable authority.

"I won't repeat myself."

"Yes,"

Ramsey had no choice but to nod and leave with the group of masters.

As he was about to step out of the door, an old man dressed as a Catholic priest turned his head to look at Sinclair, a touch of helplessness flashing in his eyes.

The fate of the prayers, breaks due to affection.

......................

At midnight, the moonlight disappeared.

"Camilla," As he lay next to Camilla, Sinclair embraced her as he used to, his voice filled with sentiment and huskies.

"If you knew what I was doing, you would definitely laugh at me, wouldn't you?"

The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint, despairing smile on his handsome, pale face, but his eyes gleamed with profound sadness.

"I have never believed in God, ghosts, but for the sake of finding you again, I still want to give it a try."

"Even if, there's only a glimmer of hope."

Sinclair's words were like a needle stabbing into Camilla's heart, causing a severe pain to course through her internal organs.

She clutched her heart, watching Sinclair. "Now, there is only one last thing to do."

With a faint smile, Sinclair dumped the liquid he had set beside the flower, all over the white roses and the furniture in the room.

Camilla awakened from her deep thoughts in alarm, her heart skipping a beat.

What on earth was Sinclair doing?

Having done all this, Sinclair lay back down on the bed.

"Camilla, isn't this your favorite flower?"

He leaned his face against Camilla's neck, looking extremely fatigued but still wearing a faint smile.

"Now, I'll take them to accompany you, forever," he said in a deep and hoarse voice, full of affection yet tinged with an unmistakable note of irrevocable resolution.

Camilla's heart ached as if it was being burned, and her feeling of unease deepened.

The unease turned into shock and despair when she saw Sinclair pull out a lighter.

She instantly realized that the fluid Sinclair had spilled was gasoline!!

"No, don't, Sinclair!!" Camilla's spirit moved to Sinclair's side, reaching out to grab the lighter from him, but her hand passed right through.

"Don't Sinclair, I don't want you to join me, I want you to live your life!!"

"I was wrong before, I'm sorry, so sorry.

Could you please continue to live well?"

"Sinclair!!" She stood next to Sinclair, shrieking in agony.

But Sinclair couldn't hear any sound. "Camilla, don't be afraid," Sinclair took out the handcuffs from his pocket, cuffed Camilla's wrist to his, and after a soft kiss on her lips, he leaned against her neck.

His eyes, always full of an obsessive, intense love for her, gradually closed, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"I'm here with you now." Without any hesitation, he threw out the lighter in his hand.

Frantically shaking her head, Camilla's face was streaked with tears.

"No, no!!"

"Boom--" Gasoline was suddenly ignited, and the roaring flames spread throughout the room in an instant.

But Sinclair felt no pain at all. Because when he lost Camilla, he was already dead.

The fire grew larger and Camilla's spirit began to dissipate.

At this moment, Camilla suddenly came to her senses, finally seeing the truth clearly.

She loved Sinclair.

Deeply, profoundly loved him.

"Sinclair, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Her heart was aching unbearably, as if it had been severely scorched, filled with regret and self-reproach.

"If there truly is another life, I will definitely be with you!!"