Chapter 612

Henry's gaze was fixed on her with fierce intensity. "Henry Bennett, are you crazy! What are you doing?" cried Edie. She struggled against the tree trunk, but Henry held her wrists in a vise-like grip. She glared at him venomously.

Seeing the rage in his eyes, Edie didn't get angry. Instead, she smiled calmly. "What? Do you want to kill me?" she asked, mockery evident in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Henry stared back, the amusement in her eyes sparking inexplicable panic. "Do you think you could kill me, Henry?" Edie lowered her voice, whispering into his ear.

Henry, irritated, released her wrist. His hand wandered over her body, stopping at her neck, squeezing hard. A sharp pain shot through him, radiating from his heart. He clutched his chest, the intense agony tearing at his insides. He sweated profusely, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Trying to use me? Didn't anyone tell you not to mess with the Simpsons? You're not qualified to kill me," Edie sneered, flicking her sleeve. She looked at the broken coffee cup and shook her head. "What a pity. Such a beautiful cup, broken just like that."

Edie spoke lightly, but Henry felt something invisible attacking him, suffocating him. The feeling vanished only when she walked away. He almost collapsed, watching her leave in disbelief.

"How could this be?" he muttered, confusion flickering in his eyes. He had used Edie to gain access to better resources, engaging in a morally ambiguous relationship. They were mature adults, each with their own needs. As things spiraled out of control, the Bennett Group crumbled under public pressure, facing a financial crisis. He'd hoped to leverage her connection to the Stewart family to resolve his problems. His mind had been clouded; he'd married her in desperation, assuming a foothold in both the Stewart and Simpson families. But everything unfolded unpredictably. The Stewarts offered no assistance; the Simpsons wouldn't even let him in. The only exception was when Edie, with Quinton, had beaten him. Afterward, he couldn't even remember Quinton's appearance, as if that memory had been forcibly erased.

"Ugh," Henry groaned, collapsing to the ground in agony. A splitting headache pulsed, as if the chest pain had migrated to his head. Only after Edie disappeared did the pain gradually subside. An unprecedented fear welled up, making him wonder if he'd fallen into a Simpson family trap.

"No! Edie must have some issues," he said coldly.

As he stood to return to Bennett Villa, he saw Oliver at the second-floor windows, staring thoughtfully. "Come up for a cup of coffee," Oliver said quietly.

Henry was silent, then went upstairs to Oliver's bedroom. The room was pitch black, the curtains drawn despite the bright daylight. Three lit candles were vaguely visible in the darkness.

"Your wife is quite something," Oliver said, sitting in a dark corner. His rocking chair swayed gently, making him seem ethereal, otherworldly.

"What do you mean?" Henry's heart pounded. He looked at Oliver, confused, but didn't approach.

Oliver said calmly, "Your inner desires are magnified, devouring your reason and luck. When your desires overcome your reason, your body will protest. Right now, you only feel pain in your chest and head. After a while, the pain will spread to your limbs. If you resist, you will die suddenly."

Henry felt he understood, yet didn't understand at the same time. He stared cautiously at Oliver.

Oliver continued calmly, "Edie has been in the Stewart family for years and left unscathed. She's brought the Simpson family to its current position. She may not be as simple as you think." He seemed to be reminding, or deliberately informing, Henry.

Henry stared at Oliver's pale face, as if he'd just recovered from a serious illness. After a long silence, Henry turned and strode away.

"Bang!" The door closed. Brandon emerged from the corner. His left eye, covered in gauze, gave him a strange appearance.

"Are you going to take advantage of him?" Brandon asked, displeased, staring at Henry's departing figure.

Oliver didn't speak, looking indifferently at Brandon. "The luck of the Bennett family is worse than the worst. You think I'd take a fancy to them?" Oliver sneered, slowly standing, only to feel a sharp chest pain. He coughed up blood. His body swayed; he hastily raised a hand, beginning a divination. The more he did, the more blood seeped from his mouth. He fell back into the rocking chair, staring at his fingertips in horror.

Brandon quickly asked, "What happened?"

"Someone broke my plan," Oliver said in horror. His plans were broken one after another; each breakage caused a backlash. His body, already severely injured, was now suffering another. The other party was attacking him relentlessly, as if to kill him.

"Broke your plan!" Brandon was startled. He hurried to the window, looking down at Bennett Villa, but Windsor's car hadn't returned.

Oliver's voice trembled. "Windsor didn't come back, but the thing in his body was activated. The talisman suppressing him is broken. How could this be? His soul and shadow should have been replaced after three years. He couldn't have broken free. Three years was enough for it to occupy his body. How could it be beaten back now?"

His words were like a time bomb. "It seems the Bennett family's resentment isn't strong enough. They even want to break free and escape. It seems the Bennett family needs to be hit harder," Oliver muttered to himself.

Brandon stood silent.

7:38 AM Chapter 612

The room was pitch black; the silence was eerie, like the underworld.