Chapter 12 The Professional Killer

• Even though his face looked different from that night, I'd recognize those eyes even if they were reduced to ashes.
• He was a master of disguise. On that night, his figure had clearly been that of a tall man—6'1"—but now he was hunched over, with weathered skin that made him look like an elderly man.
• Seeing the person who killed me here at the art show sent waves of fear through me, reminding me of the pain I felt before I died.
• He was ruthless. He had appeared silently behind me that night, stabbing me in the back without a second's hesitation or remorse, as if he'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
• I had always been kind to others, so there was no way I had enemies who would want me dead.
• He was so skilled at hiding his identity. Could he be a professional killer?
• But if he'd already killed me, why was he here now? Did he have another target?
• My first instinct was to run, but then I realized—I was already dead. What was there to be afraid of?
• Luke casually patted his shoulder without giving him a second glance, simply saying, "It's fine."
• But the man's eyes stayed fixed on me, the same way they had right before my death.
• Cold, merciless, and completely emotionless.
• Even though I'd already died once, I was still terrified of him, frozen in place as if I'd been paralyzed.
• Could he see me?
• Just as I had that thought, I heard Luke call out in a low voice, "Uncle Carter."
• I snapped out of it and realized the man's gaze was actually focused past me, on Carter, who was sitting in a wheelchair.
• My tensed nerves finally began to relax.
• Carter's attention had shifted to Luke, and the man walked toward Carter without any other movement.
• Still, the memory of his brutal methods sent a wave of unease through me. Was this deranged killer planning to take more lives?
• On instinct, I stretched out my arms, trying to shield Carter.
• But the man passed by without doing anything.
• Damian pushed Carter's wheelchair forward, stopping in front of Luke. Carter's gaze, cold and venomous, made Luke visibly uneasy.
• "As far as I know, Chloe's been missing ever since the wedding, and yet here you are, leisurely strolling through an art gallery?"
• I hadn't expected that the person asking about my whereabouts wouldn't be my family or my husband, but Carter, a man who had nothing to do with me.
• "Chloe's not a child. She can go wherever she wants," Luke replied dismissively. "She's always been headstrong. Once she's done throwing her little tantrum, she'll come back."
• Luke's indifference stood in stark contrast to Carter's serious demeanor.
• "What if something really has happened to Chloe?"
• For a brief moment, panic flickered across Luke's face, but before he could respond, Anna interrupted, "Uncle Carter, someone like Chloe could never be in any real danger. She left for Cloudville ages ago."
• Luke turned to her, surprised. "What did you just say?"
• "Luke, I only found out today from some relatives in Cloudville. Apparently, Chloe asked them to find her a place to stay about a month ago."
• It was true—I'd mentioned more than once how much I loved Cloudville, with its roads lined with flowers, its lush green mountains, and its snow-capped peaks. I'd even said I wanted to settle down there.
• Half a month ago, I'd booked a flight for the day after the wedding to head to Cloudville.
• I had planned to expose Luke and Anna's shameless affair at the wedding. I knew doing so would damage the relationship between the Sanders and the Boltons, so I had decided to exact my revenge and then leave.
• Anna continued, "I wanted to confirm it, so I checked. She booked a flight for the 15th to Cloudville."
• Luke's face twisted from concern to anger. "No wonder we couldn't find any trace of her! She just up and left without telling anyone!"
• "Don't be mad, Luke. Chloe's never cared about other people's feelings. Coming and going as she pleases—that's just how she is. We're all used to it by now."
• If Luke had bothered to investigate, he would've found out that although I booked the ticket, I never actually got on the flight.
• But how laughable—he didn't even care enough to check. He just believed whatever Anna told him.
• As I gave a bitter smile, I noticed the same hint of sarcasm at the corner of Carter's mouth.
• His dark eyes seemed to have seen through everything long ago.
• Carter coldly said, "Let's hope you don't regret it."
• My eyes widened in shock. Why would Carter say something like that? Did he know something?
• Luke, sensing something off in Carter's words, was about to say something when Damian wheeled him away.
• Anna clung to Luke's arm. "Luke, the auction is starting. Let's go take our seats."
• I continued scanning the crowd, searching for the killer.
• Finally, I found him.
• He was like a creature that couldn't stand the light, lurking in the dark corners, watching Luke with a sick and sinister gaze.
• I racked my brain, trying to remember where I'd seen those eyes before. Who was he?
• Why would he come here after killing me?
• And most importantly—if I was dead, where was my body?
• I watched him and Anna closely, but there was no sign of them exchanging glances.
• Could it be that he wasn't a hitman hired by Anna after all?
• "Three million."
• It was Luke's voice.
• He thought the painting was Anna's, so he was bidding to show his affection for her.
• Hearing him call out the bid, Anna blushed shyly, staying close by his side.
• People around them were full of admiration, commenting on how close the "siblings" were.
• Their words only made me laugh. If they knew what those two had really done while hiding behind their sibling act, what would their reactions be?
• "Five million." A cold voice from the crowd caught my attention.
• I turned to see Carter was the one who had raised the bid.
• Why was he bidding on this painting?
• The atmosphere in the room grew tense, as if the air were thick with invisible sparks. To Luke, it was clear that Carter wasn't just trying to win the painting.
• "Eight million," Luke called again, raising the bid.
• Carter simply raised his paddle and calmly said, "80 million."
• Whoa!
• Everyone gasped in shock. Had he lost his mind?
• He just bid 80 million for that painting!
• Luke was stunned, and as he stood there, dumbfounded, the next two paintings were also won by Carter, each for a similarly outrageous price.
• Before Carter left, I saw Luke rush over to him.
• He grabbed the car door, his face full of frustration. "Uncle Carter, you spent over 200 million on just three paintings. If Grandpa finds out … "
• Carter lifted his eyelids and gave him a cold, disdainful glance.
• "Do you think I'm a failure like you?"
• Luke hadn't fully taken over the Boltons' business yet, so he didn't have the funds, and Carter's actions had just humiliated him in front of everyone.
• "Uncle Carter, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about me?"
• Carter stared at him intensely, his eyes filled with deep hatred.
• "Luke, this time, I won't let it go."