Loved You Once But He's My Forever

Billionaire Is 108

Chapter 108 Attending My Own Funeral

It felt strange. I had only spent a single day with him, so why was he so worked up?

Maybe he had drunk too much, I thought, but I didn't dwell on it.

Gently, I patted his back and said, "Mr. Bolton, about what happened earlier..."

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The man lying on top of me propped himself up with his arm, looking at me intently. His eyes lingered for a moment, finally settling on my forehead. The sadness in his eyes evaporated in an instant. Within moments, his expression returned to its usual coldness, tinged with disappointment and a subtle sense of loss.

"Sorry," he said, his voice distant and indifferent, as he moved away from me.

He slumped to the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His posture far from the usual strength and dominance he once commanded. Instead, there was an unshakable sense of melancholy about him.

In my memory, Carter had always been like a warrior-stoic, composed, and coldly defiant-even though he was disabled. He had never shown such vulnerability, or even a hint of weakness.

He didn't seem to care about how others saw him. He simply sat there, staring blankly ahead, as if he had no intention of getting up or doing anything else.

The atmosphere was heavy, eerie even, and I didn't know what to say.

"Well...

"You

We spoke at the same time. I quickly fell silent and waited for him to continue.

After a brief pause, he finally spoke. "Did you see her?"

I tilted my head, trying to understand who he meant by her.

Carter picked up a bottle of wine casually, his fingers tracing the bottle's shape. His head hung low as his voice came out raspy. "How did you know about the secret of the statue?"

After all, this was a huge loophole. With Carter's sharp mind, it was hard not to be suspicious.

Luckily, this matter was so bizarre that it couldn't be explained by logic or reason alone.

I saw the statue, I felt something strange, like a force

me, except she didn't have that red mole on her forehead." Carter tightened his grip on the bottle, the veins in his hand standing out.

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During the time I was unconscious, I heard a soft voice. She said her name was Chloe Sander and she

grabbing my uninjured hand with such force that I winced. His grip was strong-this body, although younger

soft, even

endured the pain, confused

he swallowed, his tone urgent. What did she say

in this, especially since we had

was that he felt

one knew about it, and she wanted to leave. I hesitated, then added, "Mr. Bolton, I remember Luke's wife was named Chloe Sander, right? Could the woman in the statue be his wife?" Carter closed his eyes,

her into a statue and placed it at the entrance of her house. What kind

I had no concrete evidence. This time, besides my death, I

all she wanted was Luke, she could have stopped after

own

in recent years. Why did she still

yes, but her loathing of Grandma

said, "The police have already started their investigation. I

we find the real culprit, it

won't matter,"

They brutally murdered and dismembered Ms. Sander. If we don't find the killer, she'll never rest in peace! Finding the true murderer will give her peace, even in the afterlife Perhaps my outburst was too intense. Carter looked at me, his eyes full of curiosity. "You didn't know Chloe, but

him, despite his earlier moment of weakness, Carter always maintained a sharp and rational mind. He

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gaze sent a chill through me. For a moment, I almost

Chloe.

of my tongue, but I quickly