Chapter 435

Onon tried to dodge, but his instincts only allowed his body to fall backward. He watched helplessly as the knife came down toward his wrist.

"Shit," Orson cursed, barely able to stop himself from shouting. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud. He felt his foot kick something, and suddenly his phone flew out of his pocket, colliding with the incoming knife with a loud clang.

Orson's eyes widened in surprise. He saw the blade strike his phone, which then dropped to the ground, landing between his legs. His gaze remained fixed on the sharp knife, but his eyes were glued to the phone, still glowing, the screen displaying the sketch Odalys had absentmindedly drawn earlier that day at their coffee shop. She had doodled it casually while they talked, and after she left, he'd snapped a photo of it before heading out.

His mind raced. Trembling fingers reached for the phone; his heart pounded.

"What happened?" Evander's calm voice broke through the tension. He had heard the noise and rushed out. Seeing Orson on the ground with the phone between his legs and the knife embedded in the screen, Evander stepped forward, his heavy boots sounding solid against the floor. Orson handed him the phone wordlessly.

Evander took it, his hands rough but steady, and stared at the glowing screen. He didn't even need to look twice. "Isn't this the same mark from Odalys' room?" he asked.

"What mark?" Orson asked reflexively, though deep inside, he had already begun to piece things together. He may have been young, but he wasn't naive. From the moment he couldn't get the candles to stay upright, to when hot wax burned his hand, and then the near-miss with the knife, it all suddenly made sense. The phone flying out of his pocket had saved him, but more importantly, it was the image on the screen—the same one Odalys had drawn.

At first, Orson had thought the sketch was simply a hint to look for Oliver. But now, it seemed like that sketch might have saved his life. He remembered Percival's words: Odalys does nothing without reason. Now, Orson was beginning to understand exactly what Percival meant.

"This drawing is a bit rough, but look at the bottom corner. This pattern—when I brought fruit to Odalys' room, there was a picture on her bedside table that looked just like this," Evander pointed out. If Evander hadn't seen it before, he might have overlooked the connection.

Orson recounted the whole sequence of events, and Evander listened thoughtfully.

"So, Odalys must have sensed I was in danger," Orson said, his voice softening as realization dawned. "She tried to save me without saying a word. She must have drawn this picture to catch my attention. If I took a photo of it, it meant I would survive the danger. But if I had just walked away without noticing, my hand would have been sliced off."

Orson's voice almost cracked with the weight of what he had narrowly avoided. "I almost lost my hand… and with it, the entire Lark family legacy. My line, my family's future—all of it, gone." He still couldn't quite believe it. It felt almost like some kind of dark omen.

At that moment, Evander's phone buzzed. The name "Odalys" flashed on the screen. Orson and Evander exchanged a quick look, their expressions filled with unspoken understanding. Evander answered the call.

"Grandpa, is Orson alright?" Odalys' voice came through, calm but with a hint of concern. The question left them both in stunned silence. Evander and Orson locked eyes. Orson had never been more amazed and unnerved by Odalys' apparent foresight.

"No worries. He just tripped, and his phone got broken," Evander replied, his voice steady, though his heart was still racing.

Chapter 435 (continued)

"Odalys, did you know something would happen to me today?" Orson finally blurted out, desperate to know the truth. He could no longer hold it in; if he didn't ask now, he would be suffocating with unanswered questions.

"Yes," Odalys answered, her voice quiet but assured.

The silence in the room thickened. Orson grabbed the phone from Evander and put it on speakerphone. His voice shook slightly as he asked, "So, Odalys, was that picture you drew meant to test whether I'd notice it?" He swallowed hard, his nerves still taut. "What if I hadn't looked at it? What if I just left?"

The question hung heavy with consequences.

"If you truly cared about the Stewart family and the matters we've discussed, you would have noticed the drawing and been interested. If you just walked away, it would mean you only care about yourself and overlook important details. I've seen your grandfather, and I've seen your face, Orson. The Lark family isn't at its end. The Stewart and Lark families have been allies for years. Your family's fortune will see you through this danger. But you need to go to my company and find Evander," Odalys said, her words wrapped in wisdom.

"And lighting candles for your ancestors counts too," she added quietly.

Orson's head was spinning. It was all coming together—the candles, the picture, the phone, the near-death experience. Sometimes, the smallest actions could have monumental consequences. To others, lighting a candle might seem insignificant, but for those who understood, it was a life-saving act. People called it superstition, but those who experienced it knew it was real.

"So if I hadn't taken the photo? If I hadn't gone to find Evander? If I hadn't lit the candles… today, I would have lost my hand, right?" Orson could feel cold sweat soaking his back. His voice shook as he asked, the fear creeping in.

"Yes, but I knew you wouldn't ignore it," Odalys replied, her tone reassuring. "Everyone has their own karma, something others cannot interfere with. If a calamity is survived, there will be blessings ahead. But once people interfere, things may take an unexpected turn. That's why I couldn't be upfront with you about what happened earlier."

Odalys spoke quietly, her voice laced with an almost philosophical calmness. She nodded in response to Orson's question, confirming his suspicions. "I wasn't just having coffee with you to pass the time; I was buying us some time while keeping an eye on Henry's car."

Orson, who had been under the impression that their meeting was a simple casual coffee, sank heavily to the ground in shock. He hadn't expected so many layers to the situation.

"This is your karma, Orson," Odalys continued with a calm, almost detached tone. "You have to face and bear it. I can't warn you, nor should I. If I had told you outright, you might have avoided the calamity, but it would have come back to you double. The next time you face such a trial, it could be even worse, potentially even overturning your entire life. That's how karma works."

She paused and gave a small, reassuring smile, her eyes softening as she looked at Orson. "You're fortunate," she added, "so you'll be fine. You don't have to worry about it too much."

Orson felt immense gratitude. If not for her, he would never have come here. He wouldn't have lit the candles.

"Thank you, Odalys," Orson said, his voice cracking with emotion. He might have… He glanced at his wrist, where a perfect scar would have been if not for the intervention of fate. He shuddered. That knife had been so close.

"No need to thank me," Odalys said, and with that, she hung up.

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