Chapter 613
Officer Heney is missing. I'm afraid he's dead. Such a righteous police officer shouldn't be alive… unless he comes back, Brandon said suddenly.
Oliver listened and began a divination, repeating it several times. "Well?" Brandon asked.
Oliver frowned deeply, his fingertips stiffening. After a long while, he said, "It's an empty divination."
"An empty divination? You can't figure out if he's dead or alive, what he's doing, or where he is? How can that be?" Oliver was surprised. One couldn't be truly empty while alive, nor after death. Whether alive or dead, there should be signs, not emptiness. The emptiness meant infinite possibilities—alive, dead, or disappeared. This infinite possibility was the most frightening.
"Call Windsor," Oliver said.
Brandon shook his head. "I just called him; his phone's off."
Oliver turned to the floor-to-ceiling window. It was a bright, sunny day, yet he felt a sudden chill, as if something was spiraling out of control. His lips moved, but he couldn't speak. Blood poured from his throat, clogging his mouth. He spat out a mouthful of blood and fainted.
"Oliver!" Brandon called, hurrying forward. Oliver fell heavily from his rocking chair.
Hannah, ascending the stairs with a glass of milk, heard Brandon's shout. She rushed in, the smell of blood overwhelming her. She saw Oliver vomiting blood on the floor.
"Call an ambulance!" Hannah shouted, panic rising. She thought, I recovered from my injuries thanks to Oliver's talismans. I doubted him before, but after my healing, I believed the Bennett Group could recover as long as we kept Oliver. Seeing him vomiting blood, she panicked.
"What happened?" Sophia ran in, hearing the commotion. She wore a plunging V-neck slip dress, her figure accentuated as she ran, her smooth shoulders exposed. Her hair was messy; kiss marks adorned her shoulders and neck. Barefoot, she trotted in, her hair swaying. Seeing the scene, a coldness flashed in her eyes, but she quickly concealed it.
"Mom, why is Oliver vomiting blood?" Sophia asked, bewildered.
Hannah shook her head, her heart sinking. The Bennett family was in chaos, but the priority was getting Oliver to the hospital.
"He probably overworked and depleted his energy," Hannah said, then stared at the ambiguous marks on Sophia's body. Anger flashed in her eyes until Sophia shyly covered her chest. "I forgot to change clothes," she mumbled, retreating to her room and slamming the door.
The ambulance arrived. Hannah hesitated, then told Brandon, "You're injured too. Go to the hospital with him."
Brandon stared at her before leaving with the ambulance. Hannah watched from upstairs, then went to Oliver's room, retrieved a talisman from the altar, and quickly left.
The moment she left, Sophia entered Oliver's room, barefoot. "He got hurt so easily! I thought he was capable," she muttered, dipping the talisman into Oliver's blood, her delicate fingertips staining as she outlined something on it. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, she lit the talisman with a lighter, watching it burn to ashes. She dusted her hands and turned, meeting Henry's deep eyes.
"Henry," Sophia panicked, stepping back and hiding the lighter.
Henry stared at her. "What are you doing here? It's creepy. Go to your room."
"Yes," Sophia whispered, concealing her emotions. As she passed him, she stumbled into his arms. "Henry, I think I twisted my ankle. Can you help me?" she asked, her face flushed.
Henry's face darkened. Remembering her previous desire for his heart's blood, he forcefully pushed her away. Sophia crashed into the doorframe.
"Since you call me brother, keep your distance. Don't try to seduce me. I'm not Windsor," Henry said coldly. He felt his body sway, his head aching. Sophia grabbed his arm. He tried to shake her off, but she whispered, "What's the rush? Oliver and that old man are gone."
She helped him to her room, throwing him onto the bed. He lay there, weak, watching her. "What do you want?" he roared, his voice barely audible. Sophia pushed him back down, twirling a strand of hair.
7:30 AM
"What am I doing? What can I possibly do to you?" Sophia purred, smiling slyly. She leaned in, whispering in his ear, her fingers tracing his jawline. "Have you forgotten, dear Henry? I need a drop of your heart's blood. And it seems like the perfect time…"
With chilling flirtatiousness, she tore open his shirt. Henry, mustering his strength, twisted away. "Why are you obsessed with my blood? Was it you who injured Atlas? You already took his heart's blood. Why mine, too?" He couldn't understand the value of their heart's blood.