Chapter 410

The morning after Edie's arrest, the Simpson family sprang into action. They used their connections to secure Edie's release, but Caspian refused to let the matter rest. He followed the trail of connections to its source and immediately reported everyone involved to the authorities, systematically dismantling the Simpson family's influence.

Now, Edie stood glaring at him with an icy stare that sent chills down his spine.

"Lee," she began with a smirk. "I didn't know you had it in you. I hear that everything happening to the Simpson family todayit's all because of your little report, right? Looks like, aside from solving cases, you've got some other tricks up your sleeve."

She stepped closer, leaning in to whisper, "I wonder, do your wife and daughter know how resourceful you really are?"

She paused before continuing, her voice dropping to a menacing murmur. "I heard there was a sudden explosion at your daughter's school. I wonder, with a father like you, if her luck will run out one day? What if something happens to her? You'd better be ready to mourn, Lee. You wouldn't want to regret it."

The words hit their mark. Lee's face paled, his features tightening with anger and fear.

He thought back to the explosion—an investigation that had yielded nothing. The authorities were stumped, but Lee knew, deep down, someone had orchestrated it as a warning—a warning directed squarely at him.

"That's none of your concern, Edie. As long as it doesn't involve me, that's all that matters," he retorted coldly.

Edie met his icy gaze, but her smile faltered, her expression hardening. With a sharp snap of her head, she turned to Henry and snapped, "Well? Are we leaving or just standing here waiting to die?"

"Let's go," Henry growled, clenching his fists in frustration.

The insult stung, especially in front of everyone, but Henry knew better than to overreact. With the Simpson family's unpredictable methods, he couldn't afford to make a premature move. For now, he would bide his time, waiting for an opportunity to strike back.

Caspian chuckled at the scene, a sarcastic grin twisting his lips.

Meanwhile, Lee reviewed nearby surveillance footage, piecing together the events of the explosion. The video showed it to be a pure accident. Caspian had been distracted, staring at his phone while driving. He had crashed into a light pole, which fell, igniting a fire under his car and causing the explosion.

It was a chain of unfortunate events, a perfect storm of bad luck. The footage was undeniable. Caspian's inattention was clearly the cause. The responsibility rested solely on his shoulders.

On the road, Percival drove, maintaining a safe distance behind Windsor's vehicle. He had witnessed everything—Caspian's near-fatal accident and the subsequent events. If not for Odalys's talisman, Caspian would have been killed, or at the very least, severely injured or crippled.

"Seems like Caspian's lucky," Percival remarked, gripping the steering wheel. "If not for Odalys, his life would have ended tonight."

He glanced at Caspian's car in the distance, remembering the crash. Ordinarily, a driver would make a small adjustment to avoid disaster, but Caspian had seemed paralyzed, as if something had gripped him at the wheel.

"After spending all that time at the Bennett Villa, dealing with Windsor and Sophia, it's a miracle he survived," Odalys remarked flatly. "Saving him wasn't out of pity or because I'm some saint. It was a debt—a favor from a past life when he covered my body after I died."

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "Now, it's settled. We owe each other nothing."

"Not to mention, Caspian had plans for me in his past life. He even tried to force a posthumous marriage with me." Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "From now on, whatever happens to him is none of my business. I won't interfere."

Percival raised an eyebrow. "You think Windsor's headed for the Simpson family? That seems like quite a twist."

He kept his eyes on Windsor's car, noting its detour. The Simpson family lived in the northern part of the city, a more remote area with little commercial activity. Windsor's car had turned in that direction, heading straight for them.

"Let's hope I'm wrong," Odalys muttered. "If not, we're in deeper trouble than we thought."

Chapter 410 (continued)

"Are you saying it's a matter of life and death? That Windsor and Quinton might have swapped fates?" Percival asked, his voice tinged with confusion. After all, both men had spent three years overseas, and their return had been strangely timed. Windsor's first stop had been to find Sophia, followed by an immediate, almost unnatural relationship, and then a swift divorce from Hannah.

"Possibly," Odalys said quietly. "It could be a trade of destinies. Or it could be something else."

Percival parked under a tree, using the shadows to conceal the car. He cut the engine, watching Windsor's car settle about 160 feet away.

The stillness of the night hung heavy in the air as Windsor remained in his car, motionless.

Odalys and Percival sat in silence, their eyes fixed on Windsor. They watched as he lit a cigarette. One. Two. Three.

Windsor's movements were deliberate. He smoked each cigarette, staring intently at the burning tip.

"It's not just smoking," Odalys said coldly. "He's performing a ritual—summoning spirits, not just smoking. Sometimes, when there are no candles, people use cigarettes to call souls."

Her words sent a chill down Percival's spine. He hadn't encountered this before, but he knew of it. His master had once warned him that certain people used smoke in the dead of night to summon spirits.

She checked the time on her phone: 1:30 AM.

"There's a very heavy negative energy about this," she murmured, her fingers rubbing the phone screen. Her voice was low, almost inaudible.

Percival sensed her anxiety. He reached out, taking her hand firmly.

"We'll wait," he said softly, his voice reassuring.

Odalys nodded, but exhaustion hit her suddenly, overwhelming her. She had been fine moments ago, but now, as Windsor lit his third cigarette, a wave of sleepiness washed over her. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body dragging.

"This doesn't feel right," Odalys whispered, her voice tinged with unease.

Suddenly, she pinched herself hard, then bit her fingertip, drawing blood. She touched Percival's forehead with the bloodstained finger and then smeared it across her own brow. The cold, sharp sting of the ritual jolted her back to full awareness.

Just as she did, Windsor seemed to convulse as if the summoning had backfired. A violent cough escaped his throat, and with it, a stream of blood sprayed from his mouth. His cigarette dropped, smoldering on the ground, burning a hole in his pants.

"Windsor?" he muttered, looking down at the mess. "What the hell just happened?"