Chapter 1243

That was a cursed painting from the Victorian Era.

Edwin stared at the painting, stunned. “Is something wrong with this painting? It’s impossible! My uncle gave it to me; he said he spent a million dollars on it.” It was a beautiful painting, yet cursed. Uncle? Skylar thought of Ernest, Edwin's uncle.

“There’s something unsettling about this painting,” Caleb remarked. “It’s as if it holds some kind of magic, making it hard to look away.”

Seeing Edwin's stunned expression, Skylar asked, “Did he give you anything else?”

“No, just this painting, over a month ago. Could he have purposely given it to me to harm me?” Edwin, though morally questionable, wasn't stupid. Even drunk, he realized that if Ernest knew the painting was cursed and still gave it to him, it implied malicious intent.

Skylar frowned but remained silent. They could only speculate on Ernest's motives. She focused on certain areas of the painting, noticing dark, blood-like stains in some of the red shades. Touching it, she was overwhelmed by vivid images: women and children meeting tragic ends, young women forced by Edwin himself. Even Molly's twisted face appeared, morphing into the woman depicted in the painting.

Skylar quickly closed her eyes, suppressing the unsettling visions. No wonder Edwin felt as if something were strangling him. This wasn't merely a cursed object; destroying it wouldn't erase its impact.

“I can destroy this painting,” she said bluntly, “but you need to confront what you’ve done. See the blood on it? That might include Molly's. You’ve lived a self-destructive life, never considering doing good. Therefore, completely negating this painting's harm is impossible.”

Caleb was shocked. “So even if the painting is destroyed, Mr. Martin will still suffer nightmares?”

Skylar nodded. Years ago, she'd predicted Edwin wouldn't live long; actions have consequences. After years with Molly and exposure to evil influences, he couldn't escape the torment.

Chapter 1243

Edwin sobered instantly. “What are you saying? I’ll still have nightmares? Then what’s the point of you being here? Are you trying to scam me? Skylar, how dare you deceive me!”

He raised his hand to strike her, but Caleb swiftly intervened. “Skylar is extremely busy; people queue for her help. If it weren't for you being Joe's father, she wouldn't have come! And for a mere hundred thousand dollars—less than others pay her as pocket money. Mr. Martin, think carefully!”

To live so long, so cluelessly perpetrating despicable acts, yet still hoping for a good end? It was incomprehensible.

“Skylar, let’s go,” Caleb said.

Skylar nodded, rolled up the painting, and took it with her. After a few steps, she turned back to Edwin, his face drained of color. “If anyone gives you anything else, refuse it.”

Edwin ignored her, muttering, “Has Uncle Ernest gone mad? He actually wants to harm me! I have to find him!”

As Skylar and Caleb entered their car, Edwin drove away.

Caleb frowned. “Isn’t he driving under the influence?”

Before Skylar could respond, a video call appeared on her phone. She saw Ned's name.