Fortunate to Have You This Lifetime

Chapter 762: Chapter 762 Assassin_1

“It’s not,” Alexander Summers held her tightly, “It’s a kind of neurotic drug that can make people feel irritated and agitated in a short time. It might also cause drowsiness, weakness, and headaches as side effects. I just didn’t want him to get you! Purple, I couldn’t possibly kill you, nor do I have any reason to do so!”

“But I’m dead…” Purple Summers said.

She was dead, that was a fact.

“Even if I wanted you again, there was no need to kill you. I could have just killed Nathaniel Summers! Then pursued you openly and honestly!”

“Then why did I die?” Purple Summers was still caught up in this question.

If the drug wasn’t lethal, how did she die?

Alexander Summers wiped the tears from her face and helped her up, “Come with me to a place.”

Purple Summers let him lead her out, into the car.

Where the car was headed, she did not know, nor did she ask. She sat dull-eyed, staring out the window into the darkness, replaying every word Alexander Summers had said, recalling every detail she had found in the basement, trying to restore the truth.

In the end, she realized that no matter which version of the truth she considered, her death was inseparable from Alexander Summers.

Not reassured by her silence, Alexander Summers drove with one hand on the steering wheel, firmly holding her hand with the other; Purple Summers’s fingers were stiff and cold.

The car drove for a long time, maybe two hours, perhaps even longer. Purple Summers doubted whether they were still in Clearwater.

Eventually, they arrived at a car recycling plant. The lights in the factory shed a ghastly pale over everything, and the old metal products reflected a cold light.

Alexander Summers pressed the bell at the large iron gate outside. After a moment, through the gate, he could see a limping old man, slowly coming towards them with the aid of a walking stick.

The old man must have recognized Alexander Summers. He didn’t ask any questions upon seeing him and opened the gate.

Purple Summers followed Alexander Summers inside, passing the front building, then pushing through a door, and on the inside, there was a dark underground passage.

A mix of the smell of blood and mold hit them, nauseating.

Purple Summers stopped in her tracks, vaguely guessing that this was the Howard Family’s “torture chamber.”

Alexander Summers pulled her along, explaining, “The person who killed you was an assassin sent by a great-uncle of the Howard Family. He disguised himself as an attendant to blend in on the yacht, and then, when you were alone, he pushed you overboard. It was to look like an accidental fall into the river, then he escaped underwater, unnoticed by anyone, and not on the list of suspects for the police. Professional killers are tight-lipped; it took me some effort to make him reveal the mastermind.”

The smell in the torture chamber was unbearable, even with the ventilation fans buzzing constantly, the heavy scent of blood did not dissipate.

Fortunately, there were no shrill screams.

Since the Howard Family had quieted down, there were far fewer operations in the torture chamber; most of the prisoners were just hanging by a thread, barely alive.

Purple Summers looked straight ahead, trying not to see the miserable state of the prisoners around her.

Until Alexander Summers stopped in front of one of the racks.

There was a person tied to the iron frame, who was more like a walking corpse than a human: covered in blood from head to toe, naked and with no flesh unmarked, many parts pierced by syringes delivering nutrients, presumably to prevent too swift a death from the torturers.

“Make him speak,” Alexander Summers commanded the people in the torture chamber.

Someone threw a bucket of ice water onto the person on the rack.

It was truly ice water, containing small chunks of ice.

The person regained some consciousness, much like flipping a mechanical switch, and emotionlessly began to speak, “…It was the second great-uncle who sent me. He found out that Roy Howard was fond of Suzanne Saunders and wanted to kidnap Suzanne Saunders to threaten Roy Howard… Later, he heard that Roy Howard has hired a mage to perform a ritual for reviving the Thirteenth Young Master Howard, and the second great-uncle changed his mind. Woman or brother, he wanted to see how Roy Howard would choose…”

Listening to the flat, undulating tone, Purple Summers could imagine just how many times this confession had been extracted under duress, how many times it had been recounted.