Chapter 291 The Empty Seat
The sunlight fell on the hillside. Donny sat on a rock, staring at the tombstone.
"Even if we never find Isabella, you won't be lonely."
"I'm going to live here from now on. I guess that makes us neighbors."
Donny smiled bitterly as he lay down in the little resting place he'd prepared for Isabella.
He was using his own body to test whether it was too narrow, too small.
He lay down completely. It was no problem at all.
Donny remembered they had both grown up now. He was taller than Isabella.
If he could lie down in it, then Isabella certainly could too.
Donny lay in that pit, the soil beneath him cool and damp. Sunlight shone on his face as he kept his eyes open, looking up at the sun.
Cotton-candy clouds floated in the deep blue sky.
He saw a lone goose soaring through the clouds. It flew so high that he could only see a black dot with outstretched wings.
Donny watched that lone goose without blinking.
He suddenly envied it, able to fly so high and go wherever it wanted.
But then he felt he and that lone goose were alike, all alone, whether day or night, forever just by itself.
Donny put his hands behind his head as a pillow. Between his fingers, tiny bits of dirt squeezed in.
"Isabella, I won't fly away."
"I'll keep waiting."
That day by the river, he had already seen that William did not have much time left.
With that guy's resources, he could have access to the world's best medical care. If he truly wanted to live, he would not have let himself deteriorate like that.
He had already given up on treatment, destroying his own body while destroying others.
Donny closed his eyes, no longer thinking about those upsetting things.
All he had now was waiting.
No one went up to the second floor of the Spencer Villa anymore.
Except for that special room William had prepared for Isabella.
The rest of the rooms just sat there unused.
Whether day or night, no one would come to disturb him anymore.
William finally had the chance to really enjoy Isabella's company.
He lost track of time, his mind foggy and confused. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, the moonlight outside cold and bleak, everything deathly silent.
His sleep got shorter and shorter, but also more and more frequent.
While keeping watch in front of the coffin, his body would suddenly collapse, his head hitting the carpet.
Only then would he realize he had been dozing off.
Each time he jolted himself awake, William would slap himself hard across the face.
"I deserve to die. How could I fall asleep?"
William kept hitting himself while apologizing to the coffin.
"Isabella, I'm not tired at all."
"I didn't mean to fall asleep."
As he spoke, he felt his apology was not sincere enough.
So he took out that small knife and stuck it in the carpet.
Whenever he felt himself about to fall asleep, he would stab his thigh with the knife.
His cheeks had lost all color from blood loss, no longer looking like a living person.
His eye sockets were sunken and dark, his eyes filled with red veins, like a zombie from old legends.
Except this zombie did not drink blood and did not like to eat.
Because William had given orders that no one was allowed to come up to the second floor without permission.
Dylan downstairs could only pace anxiously. He walked back and forth around the dining table several times, almost giving in to the urge to bring the prepared food upstairs.
But every time he took a step, he remembered William's warning.
Dylan had always listened to William; it was how he showed his loyalty.
Now he was starting to wonder if this loyalty was still worth keeping.
Two days and two nights passed. William upstairs, alive or dead, who knew?
Dylan worried that William might have collapsed from hunger, that he did not even have the strength to come downstairs.
That was why two days and two nights had passed without him coming down.
What if he starved to death up there?
What if he suddenly did something reckless...
Dylan did not dare think any deeper.
Two days ago, when he went upstairs, William had taken a gun with him.
At least during these two days and nights, there had not been a single gunshot in the villa.
But then Dylan thought again. William also had that small knife.
That day by the river, he had seen with his own eyes William use that knife to cut off his own middle finger.
The more Dylan thought about it, the more his head ached. Isabella's finger was cut off, so William cut off his own finger.
Isabella had a miscarriage, so he made Juniper get pregnant.
Isabella died by jumping from a building, so in the end...
Dylan looked up at the window.
Would William also die by jumping from a building?
As soon as this thought appeared, he panicked and immediately checked the surveillance cameras. He inspected every corner of the Spencer Villa but found no one had fallen to their death.
Only then did Dylan's anxious heart settle.
He looked toward the second floor and silently made a decision.
If William still did not come down today, he would go up no matter what.
Even if the price was his own life.
He could not wait any longer.
It was already the third day.
A person without food or water for more than three days could die.
William's body was so weak; how could he possibly last three days?
Dylan clasped his hands to his chest, silently praying in his heart.
Ms. Tudor, if you're there, if you can communicate with Mr. Spencer, please talk to him.
Don't let him torture himself like this.
It seemed heaven really heard his prayer.
Low, slow footsteps sounded at the turn of the stairs.
"Tap... tap... tap..."
William appeared.
His lips were cracked, his eye sockets dark. He had messy stubble and greasy hair.
His clothes were no longer neat; he looked like a beggar from under a bridge.
William calmly sat down at the dining table. His left hand was twitching slightly.
He could no longer hide how unnatural his left hand was.
Dylan stood in front of the dining table, his nose stinging.
"Mr. Spencer..."
William's hoarse voice came. "Why is a grown man crying?"
Hearing this, Dylan raised his head, his eyes completely moist.
This was the first time he had lost his composure in front of William.
He just felt these two days and two nights had been longer than a century.
Thank goodness William had not given up on himself.
The food was already prepared and still steaming hot.
William's twitching left hand hung at his side. He only raised his right hand to pick up food and bring it to his mouth.
After just one bite, he could not control his coughing.
"I'll get a fresh plate right away!"
Dylan wiped away the single tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye.
But William shook his head.
"No need to go to that trouble."
There were two sets of dishes on the dining table.
William picked up a piece of beef and placed it in the empty dish.
"Isabella, you eat."
The dining room suddenly became quiet, so quiet you could hear the wind outside.
William's hand trembled, frozen in place.
The beef on the fork also fell into that empty bowl.
But behind that bowl, that seat had been empty for a long time.
William withdrew his hand, forcing a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.
"How is Ambrose doing?"