Chapter 517 The Sister’s Name

Morgan curled his lips into a sinister smile at Elsie. “You know about my sister?”

Elsie shrank back, startled by the look on his face. “T-that’s just something everybody knows.”

She didn’t even finish her sentence before she was thrown onto the bed.

Morgan lunged forward, grabbing her neck with one hand. His bloodshot eyes glinted with a cold sneer. “What did you say? Everybody knows about her, huh?”

How could Elsie have known that his sister was his one soft spot—the one thing no one ever dared to bring up in front of him?

And yet she had the nerve to go and poke the bear?

With one hand alone, Morgan had her gasping for air. Then both hands closed around her neck, squeezing even harder in his frenzy.

Elsie’s face turned purple as the veins in her temples bulged.

Her eyeballs looked like they were about to pop out, but Morgan still didn’t let go.

She kicked her legs a few times in a panic—then went limp.

Still, Morgan didn’t let go.

Only when heavy, urgent knocking came from the hotel room door did he snap out of it.

He glanced at the unmoving Elsie on the bed, still completely calm. Someone would deal with the mess.

He climbed off her, pulled out a wet wipe to clean his hands, then strolled toward the door and cracked it open just a sliver.

His eyes were cold and wary as he peeked through.

But before he could react, the door was shoved wide open from the other side.

“Morgan, it’s me.”

“M… Maine?” Morgan froze when he saw who it was. Guilt flashed across his face as he shifted to block her view inside the room.

But Maine wasn’t stupid. She caught his nervous energy immediately and pushed past him. “What did you do?”

She looked at the messy bed and let out a breath of relief when she saw a woman lying on it.

If it was just him playing with some girl, that wasn’t a big deal.

She strode forward. Morgan made a half-hearted attempt to stop her but quickly gave up.

Then Maine got a closer look and realized something was off. Her face changed. “Why isn’t she moving? Is she dead or high?”

Morgan shrugged. “I just choked her a little. Who knew she couldn’t handle it?”

Maine frowned. “I told you to stop playing those kinds of games!”

Morgan didn’t even flinch—completely unfazed.

Maine looked at the girl on the bed like a corpse and muttered, “Wyatt spoiled you rotten. If Nora wakes and sees what you’ve become… she’ll be so disappointed.”

Morgan’s face darkened, but he said nothing.

Maine went on talking to herself. “Whatever. First, deal with this before it turns into a bigger mess.”

Then she asked, “Does she have any family? Call them anonymously. Say she got messed up by someone—don’t mention who.”

She turned to Morgan again. “You didn’t leave anything behind on her, did you? If the girl made a scene later, that would be trouble.”

Morgan shook his head. He’d cleaned up well enough.

Still not reassured, Maine said, “Put her in the tub. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Morgan moved lazily as he worked. Maine couldn’t stand his attitude and said in a low, firm voice behind him, “Your sister’s going to wake up soon. Her hands are already moving. Can you take things seriously for once?”

Morgan’s eyes widened as he stared at her in disbelief.

Maine gave a heavy nod. “It’s true.”

Morgan’s hands trembled slightly. He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed Elsie under her arms and dragged her to the bathroom.

Moments later, the sound of running water echoed from within.

Leaning against the bathroom wall, Morgan watched as the water slowly covered Elsie’s body.

He fumbled for his phone, wondering who he could call to take the fall for this.

Killing someone wasn’t new for him. His father and grandmother always cleaned up after him. But Wyatt was harder to handle. If he could avoid taking responsibility, all the better.

His first thought was to send the message to Owen and let him swallow the loss. But on second thought, he sent it to Paul instead.

Once the message was sent, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, satisfied, and strolled out of the bathroom.

Maine was stuffing the bloodied bedsheets into a bag, getting ready to take them away. Morgan stood in front of her, casting a large shadow over her.

“She’s really going to wake up?” he asked quietly. “Didn’t the doctors say she’d never come out of it?”

Maine froze, her hands still. She looked up, heavy with concern, and said seriously, “That’s not an excuse to let yourself go like this.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in a lecture.

“I’m not lying,” Maine insisted. “She’s been moving a lot the past few days. When I talk to her, she even cries. The doctor said to keep simulating her—keep talking to her—and there’s a high chance she’ll wake.”

Morgan’s eyes lit up, saying, “She loves hearing Wyatt talk. If he stays with her a few more days, she’ll definitely wake up.”

But before he could finish, both he and Maine went silent.

Their faces dropped in unison.

They had both thought of Yunice.