Chapter 585

Curtis asked, “Have you found out who he met in secret?”

Wyatt shook his head. “He's really cunning. All this while, he hid in places without surveillance cameras, preventing us from discovering anything. I can't believe how cruel he is to be capable of killing his own father.”

“I heard Boniel favors Jefferson and discriminates against Arnaud.” Jeremy elaborated, “Even though Boniel signed a bet with the brothers, he was secretly helping Jefferson out. Arnaud probably found out and killed him for it.”

Wyatt stroked his chin. “Arnaud's maternal family is very powerful. Even if Boniel left a will, they would definitely be able to secure the Terblanc family for him.”

“The person Arnaud planted in Norwal City is really sharp too. He was able to analyze the situation accurately.” With a grim look in his eyes, Curtis tapped his fingers on his pants. “Obviously, I'm not going to let him take over the Terblanc family.”

“What do you plan to do?” Wyatt leaned languidly against the wall.

Lowering his head in thought, Curtis replied, “I don't see a role for you now. Instead, I'll get someone to spread the news of Boniel's death. If he does have a will, it will be disclosed when the time comes.”

Holding his chin with his hand, Wyatt let out a chuckle. “By spreading the news of Boniel's death, your real objective is to see whether Jefferson attends the funeral. Isn't that the case, Curtis?”

“You're getting more annoying by the day.” Curtis threw him an icy glance.

Jeremy, who was on a call with his back facing them, finally turned around and exclaimed, “Curtis, I'm told that Theodore is awake!”

“F*ck, really?” Wyatt stood at attention. “Are you going over to see him? I'll come with you.”

“I'd rather you not. There's nothing you can help with anyway.” Jeremy patted him on the shoulders. “You had better keep an eye on your company instead.”

Curtis added, “I'll get Gabriel to assign Shadow to you. Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Sure!”

As Jeremy still had work to do in the hospital, Curtis and Wyatt left first, leaving Gabriel to pick the former up later.

After stepping out of the hospital, Curtis received a call from Emma. “Curtis, are you free? I would like to speak to you about something.”


“Can't you do it over the phone?”

“I'm afraid it's too sensitive to do so. It won't take you more than a few minutes,” Emma replied.

“Send me the address.”

Thereafter, Curtis took his leave from Wyatt before driving off.

Watching the car disappear, Wyatt let out a sigh. “This could've all been communicated through WhatsApp. Coming to the hospital was a waste of time.”

He now had to go back after barely spending half an hour there.

After having a busy few days at the office, Wyatt didn't feel like returning. Hence, he decided to take a leisurely drive with no destination in mind.

Meanwhile, dark clouds had gathered amidst the intensifying humidity in the air. The sky looked as if it was about to rain anytime.

With one hand smoking a cigarette and the other resting on the car window, Wyatt watched the street vendors go about their busy lives. Some were putting up umbrellas, while others began to pack up their wares.

All of a sudden, a painting vendor came into his sight.

The man's stall had more than ten paintings on display. In the center was an oil painting of sunflowers that was especially mesmerizing.

Catching his breath, Wyatt slammed on the brakes with no regard for the traffic. Frantically unbuckling his seat belt, he sprinted up to the painting vendor and stared intently at the sunflower painting.

“Hey, mister, are you looking to buy a painting?” The painter was in the midst of packing up when he noticed Wyatt's presence. Thus, he approached the latter and asked, “You seem to be unable to take your eyes off the sunflower painting. Are you interested in it?”

Wyatt picked up the painting and continued staring at it for a long time. Eventually, he asked the vendor, “Where did you get it from?”

“Huh?”

“Did a lady sell it to you?” Grabbing the painter's arms, Wyatt lost control of his emotions. “Does she look gorgeous and is pregnant? Do you know where she is?”

“No, no...” Given a shock by Wyatt's response, the painter stuttered, “I-I painted it myself. If you like it, I'll sell it to you cheap.”

As if someone had poured cold water on him, Wyatt instantly regained his senses. “You painted it?”

“Yes, I drew all the paintings you see here.” Pointing at his stall, the painter elaborated, “Oil paintings, watercolors... I can paint anything. In fact, I can produce more than ten copies of this sunflower painting.”

When Wyatt took another look at the painting, he realized the strokes were totally different from Jessica's.

What am I doing?

Just as he questioned himself, he stabbed his burning cigarette into the painting and tore it apart in a fit of rage.

The painter was taken aback by the turn of events. “Hey, hey, mister! If you're not buying it—”

Before the painter could finish, Wyatt took out all the cash he had and stuffed them into the painter's hands. Only then did he turn and leave.

The painter was utterly stunned as he stared at the wad of cash in his hands.

Slamming the door shut upon returning to his car, Wyatt threaded his hand through his hair and wondered what had gotten into him. A few seconds later, he smashed his fist against the steering wheel as his chest heaved.

Why am I feeling so anxious? She almost killed me, and yet, I miss her?

Leaning back against the seat to catch his breath, Wyatt regained his composure before driving away.
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