Chapter 197

Jonathan slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt on the mountain road, hidden among tall trees.

His voice was cold. "What did you say?"

Cynthia lowered her head, her eyes fixed on her handbag. Looking up, her gaze was calm.

"You must protect her and stay with her until we leave this island," she said.

As she lowered her head again, Cynthia debated telling Jonathan about the golden pistol. She ultimately remained silent. Whitney had warned her; revealing the truth wouldn't be fun—a clear threat. Cynthia was involved, and now Rachel was, too.

Overwhelmed, Cynthia needed to think. Images of the dead actor on stage haunted her. Fear, unease, and guilt gnawed at her. If I hadn't gone to the play, she wondered, would he still be alive?

Jonathan noticed her trembling fingers. He turned, reaching for her hand, but Cynthia pulled away.

"What happened in the theater? And what's wrong with your neck?" he asked.

Cynthia looked up. "If something happens to me in the next few days, go to Greenfield Villa. In the bedside table safe, you'll find a document and a pink lucky charm. Give the document to Rachel and the pendant to Filip's mother."

Jonathan watched her vacant expression, as if she were making a final confession. His brow furrowed. Seizing her bag while she wasn't looking, he opened it and revealed a golden handgun.

He wasn't surprised. Whitney's actions never shocked him. His face was icy. "Did my sister give you this? Does she want you to kill me or Nina?"

Cynthia hadn't anticipated his abrupt action, but it brought her relief. She answered numbly, "Nina."

Jonathan had guessed correctly. Whitney relished this sort of drama.