Chapter 472

As Odalys finished speaking, a low, magnetic voice interrupted her, sending a chill down her spine.

“Was it him who tricked the Bennett family into abandoning you and adopting Sophia?” Percival’s voice was low and measured, yet carried undeniable weight.

Odalys looked up, startled. She hadn't expected Percival to reveal himself so soon. Earlier, he'd been near the tree, observing with a calm, almost aloof demeanor; now, he leaned casually against the same branch beside her. The shadows from the leaves concealed them, so they hadn't been noticed.

“Hmm, that doesn't quite add up, though. When the Bennett family consulted him, they seemed unfamiliar with him,” Orson said, scratching his head in confusion. His mind, lately in overdrive trying to piece everything together, felt overwhelmed.

“It's possible he used a false identity. The more mysterious someone is, the more power they wield,” Percival offered knowingly.

Orson paused. The more mysterious someone was, the more easily they could manipulate; their ambiguity could be monetized.

“True or false, the truth will eventually reveal itself. We don't need to worry about it,” Odalys said calmly and authoritatively. She texted the producer before gracefully jumping down from the tree. Percival and Orson followed closely. The three moved silently, slipping unnoticed from the alley.

Inside the quadrangle courtyard, the producer stood, his face a mask of fury. He watched Oliver, who dramatically waved his wand, his expression one of sorrow and desperation. The producer barely controlled his urge to kick Oliver.

“How dare you listen to others and doubt me? If you hadn't asked me to be your godfather, do you think I would have helped you? I'm the one who performed the ritual that made you pregnant!” Oliver's voice rang out, laced with self-pity.

The producer's phone buzzed. He read the message, his eyes narrowed. He turned, grabbed a handful of dirt, and flung it at Oliver.

“To hell with your godfather status! Today, my wife and I are cutting all ties with you. From now on, you take your path, and we'll take ours,” he said, his voice filled with contempt.

“Spit on him! Spit on him!” he shouted, pushing his wife forward.

The panicked woman, initially frozen in confusion, complied, spitting at Oliver.

“That's it! I'm done with you, godfather! Our relationship is over!” she cried, her voice a mix of anger and fear.

Oliver stood stunned, his face covered in their spit, rendered speechless by the shock as the producer and his wife turned and walked away.

“Ugh, my face!” Oliver groaned, instinctively clutching his face as he stumbled back, narrowly avoiding another bite from the cursed imprint. He stared helplessly at the empty courtyard, his carefully built energy field shattered. The producer had thrown dirt and spat on him—an overt display of disdain that, in its absurdity, was even more malicious.

Then, a wave of something sinister washed over him. His chest tightened, and a torrent of blood burst from his mouth. His body convulsed violently as if something inside him were being ripped away. Oliver let out a piercing scream, echoing through the empty courtyard. Blood seeped from his mouth; his face contorted with pain; his body was wracked with spasms. It felt as if his very essence was being sucked dry. Then, in the deafening silence, he heard a faint, distant child's voice, seemingly emanating from his own skin—a chilling whisper carried on the echoes of his scream.

Chapter 472 (continued)

“What… what is happening? Is this… is this backlash! No, it can't be! I've controlled the child's soul, turned it into a painting and sold it to them. They hang it above their bed. As long as she keeps losing blood, the child's soul will be able to enter her womb. Whether she miscarries or the child dies young, it's all part of the plan to create the ghost baby,” Oliver muttered in horror.

“But no one knew about my plan… How could it suddenly backfire like this! Why are they reversing everything today? Why are they suddenly rejecting me as godfather!” His voice trembled with panic as he tried to comprehend the unfolding disaster.

Then, a bolt of realization struck him; his eyes widened. He felt the destruction of his carefully laid plans, the unraveling of everything he'd worked for.

“Who ruined my plan? Who in Crownridge could have seen through it? How did they destroy my spell so easily?” His breath caught in his throat. The painting… it must have been destroyed. The child's soul… is this the bite mark on my face!”

Had his actions come back to haunt him so quickly? His past deeds returned with a vengeance, flung back in his face, along with the symbolic spit from the producer and his wife.

“Dammit! Who did this to me?” Oliver howled, his frustration and rage reaching a fever pitch. He couldn't believe it—his carefully orchestrated plans had crumbled. This mysterious backlash left him at a loss.

“Odalys? Could it be her?” he whispered, his mind racing. “But I haven't crossed paths with her lately. Why would she target me now? Ahhh… it hurts… I need to get that necklace from her. I have to get it!” His voice was filled with desperation and greed, a dangerous spark flickering in his eyes.

Not far off, still hidden in the shadows, the producer and his wife hadn't left. They'd heard Oliver's frantic murmurs, and it became painfully clear who'd ruined his plan.

“If he hadn't tricked me into becoming his godfather… if he hadn't been scheming against our child, we would have been fine. But now, our child is in danger of being used by him,” the woman said, her face pale, her body crumpling with exhaustion.

The producer remained silent, processing everything.

“We need to go to Odalys at Magic Entertainment,” he declared firmly. “We need her help.” He'd only tested the waters before, but now understood—Odalys was his savior.

“Yes, yes, let's go now,” the woman responded, determination settling over her.

They hurried to their car, heading straight for Magic Entertainment. Odalys watched them leave, ensuring their safety. As soon as the car disappeared, she lowered the window.

“They're gone. We can leave now,” Odalys said calmly. She hadn't moved earlier to ensure the producer and his wife were safe. Oliver, cornered and desperate, might do anything—including murder.

“Are we just going to let Oliver off the hook?” Orson asked, restless. “He's a fraud. We're just going to leave him like this?”

“Why bother?” Odalys replied, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “The Bennett family is already in chaos. After today, Oliver's reputation will be shattered. No one will come to his aid in this courtyard anymore. He's finished.”

She paused, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Oliver's going to be desperate now. He's going to try and drag people down with him. The Bennett family is already falling apart. Isn't that exactly what we need?” Her words were calm but full of hidden meaning.

Orson's eyes widened. “Right. Henry's been trying to reach him, hasn't he? Now, with everything in disarray, Oliver's going to make a move. And that's when we strike.”

A wicked grin spread across Odalys's face.