Amy, a young woman struggling with her self-confidence 🌟, is determined to make a change in her life. She possesses the Book of Luck 📚, which can alter the amount of luck, along with her Emerald Cat 🐱, a creature that appears only to those with p...
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Chapter Eight
At 9:30 AM, Victor woke up to find the house empty. After having breakfast, he went out searching for work. After a long search, he found a job at a gas station. On his way back home, he bought some supplies.
When he arrived at his home, he was in shock. Edward's house was burning, and Victor stood there for a long time, dazed, before running and dropping the supplies from his hands. The sight of the raging flames seemed to pull him into a frozen state of disbelief. His feet refused to move, and his mind struggled to grasp the scene unfolding before him.
In the distance, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley, two of Clara's servants were watching the flames rise high into the air, their expressions unreadable. They had been sent to spy on the neighborhood, to ensure that Clara's plans were going smoothly. One of them, a tall man with a stern face, pulled out a phone, his eyes never leaving the fiery scene.
"It's done," he whispered coldly into the phone, his voice lacking any emotion. "The house is burning."
On the other end of the line, Clara was lounging in a luxurious chair, sipping wine as the sun streamed through the large windows of her estate. She twirled the glass in her hand and smiled, her lips curling into a mocking grin as the servant spoke.
"Well, isn't that a shame?" Clara replied with a sarcastic tone, her voice dripping with amusement. "Do send my condolences to the flames. I'm sure they'll miss poor Edward." She chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "And Victor? How is our little lost puppy taking the news?"
The servant paused, glancing back toward Victor, who was now kneeling on the ground, his hands covering his face as he wept uncontrollably. "He's... devastated," the servant muttered, trying to hide the slight discomfort in his voice. "It's like watching a man fall apart."
Clara laughed lightly. "Good. Let him suffer. It will make what comes next even more enjoyable."
Back at the burning house, Victor tried to run toward the flames, but the firefighters stopped him, holding him back as he fought against their grip. "Let me go!" he screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. But they held him, and despite his struggles, he couldn't get past them. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the house crumble under the weight of the fire, his heart breaking with every passing second.
The firefighters tried to calm him down, speaking in soothing tones, but Victor wasn't listening. His mind was consumed by the burning image of Edward's home, and the thought that somewhere inside, Edward could still be trapped. He fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped resisting. He sat, leaning against a nearby tree, his eyes red and swollen, staring blankly at the smoldering ruins of the house. A deep sadness settled on his face, the kind that couldn't be washed away with time.
