Chapter 393: Blood With Blood

I hadn’t expected to find a cemetery in a place like this. The sight of so many tombstones hit me like a wave, and my heart skipped a beat. But I pulled myself together. If this were insignificant, he wouldn’t have brought me here at this hour.

I buried the fear. After all, living people were far more dangerous than the dead. Case in point, Yael. I had died once before, and I knew firsthand how helpless one could feel, even as a spirit. I didn’t back away; instead, I stepped forward. Most of the names on the stones were Carlyns or had connections to the Carlyn family.

Was this their family burial ground? The oldest grave seemed to belong to Yael’s grandfather—not an ancient ancestral site, but more like two generations buried here. His grandfather’s tombstone stood the tallest and grandest, placed at the furthest point.

As I got closer, I noticed something different about Ronald’s tombstone. He was buried with his partner, and in front of it were objects that looked strangely familiar: the jewelry I had worn on my wedding day, Ethan’s watch, Jake’s belt, and a rusty lighter that was barely recognizable. Seeing those things made my blood boil. I was consumed with rage. They were responsible for my death. Now, they were using our lives to honor Ronald and his partner.

“Chloe, I’ve always wanted to bring the Sanders here to apologize to them,” Yael’s voice broke through my thoughts. What was he implying? Before I could respond, he continued, “Chloe, kneel before them. Atone for your sins with true remorse.” He sounded almost manic—one moment claiming to care for me, the next demanding an apology.

I only managed to ask, “What’s the history between the Sanders and the Carlyns?” Without warning, he kicked the back of my knee, and I crumpled to the ground. His expression softened as he looked at me. “Chloe, you should be thankful that I like you. Otherwise, today wouldn’t be about kneeling. It would be about using your head as a sacrifice.” His cold, clear eyes sent a shiver through me. I had no doubt he would follow through on his threat.

I stayed kneeling, too scared to rise. “If you won’t tell me about the feud between the Sanders and the Carlyns, how can I atone?”

He sighed. “I know it’s not your fault, but your grandmother’s. The sins of Quintus and Penelope are yours to bear.” Quintus Sander was my late grandfather, and Penelope was obviously my grandmother.

“What happened back then?”

Yael was quiet for a long time before speaking. “Back then, Quintus saw how beautiful my grandmother was and kidnapped her in broad daylight. When your grandfather found out, he went to demand her back, but Quintus nearly killed him.” I didn’t remember much about my grandfather—he passed away when I was young. From what I’d heard from my father and everyone else, my grandfather had been a meek man.

I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. How could my grandfather have done that? Was there no law back then?”

Yael gave a bitter laugh. “Ha…” His tone was cold. “Back then, the warlords ruled. The only law was the gun. Your grandmother’s family was a powerful warlord family. We had no power. We had to go to Penelope, but she was even worse than Quintus. My great-uncle and his wife went to speak with her, and she had them killed in the street. We were just an ordinary family. Killing someone was like killing a dog to them. In those chaotic times, no one cared.”

“We couldn’t do anything. We just hoped our grandmother would come back soon. It was around the time the country was being rebuilt, and the old warlords were crumbling. A new order was emerging. It was only then that she was released. But…” Yael’s voice faltered. “By the time she came back, our grandmother was barely alive. It wasn’t Quintus. The Sanders used her beauty to trade for power. They treated her like an object, sending her to the beds of various officials and rich men. When she returned, she was broken.”

“Your grandmother said she was locked in a basement by the Sanders, chained like an animal. She was treated worse than a dog. Even their servants could torment her. It was too much for her to bear.”

After the country was founded, the Sanders used their power to shift from military control to business, growing even wealthier. Despite my grandfather’s attempts to comfort her, my grandmother died one winter night. When we found her, she had hung herself beneath a plum tree. The snow had fallen all night, freezing her body.

I didn’t know what to say. I had always heard my grandmother was heavy-handed, but I never realized how dark the Sanders’ history was.

I spoke softly, “What happened after that?”

“After my grandmother died, everyone thought my grandfather would do something extreme. But he stayed silent. He didn’t act for a long time. Eventually, he used a special solution to preserve her body and placed it in a stone sculpture to keep it intact.”

“Our family has been in the stone carving business for generations. We’ve never gone hungry, no matter the dynasty. People thought it was over. We were bitter, but the gap between us and the Sanders kept growing. We had no power to change it.”

“Then, one fateful year came. My grandfather was carving a sculpture for the Boltons. He saw them hosting a banquet, and the Sanders were there. My grandfather tried to ambush them and kill Quintus and his wife, but he failed. That only enraged Penelope. Jeffrey intervened, trying to mediate, and Penelope pretended to let him go. But she held a grudge.”

“The Sanders crushed the Carlyns and the Whites, who were related to us. We lost everything. Worse, we found out they planned to wipe out all of our descendants. That’s why we had to leave the country.”

“After my grandmother died, my grandfather was never the same. My father, as a child, witnessed the downfall of the Carlyns and the brutal death of his mother. That was when the desire for revenge was planted. He swore to make the Sanders pay for their blood debts.”

“And Anna, she’s…”

“She’s my great-uncle’s granddaughter. Her real name is Wisteria Carlyn.”

“The Carlyns had hoped she wouldn’t focus on the past, that the old feud wouldn’t affect the younger generation. She should live her life. But after my great-uncle and his wife were beaten to death by Penelope in their home, their bodies left in the street, unrecognizable, my uncle and father both grew up with that trauma. We Carlyns have never forgotten the vow of revenge. My brother and I haven’t forgotten either.”

He locked eyes with me. “The blood debt of the Carlyns—the Sanders must pay for it. Even now, do you still think the Sanders are innocent?”

I finally got it. The rusty lighter had to be my grandfather’s.