chapter119-funeral

Lucca pov

Before the surgery, I needed to rest quietly.

I behaved obediently, and the security personnel gradually relaxed their vigilance.

The day before the surgery, a car pulled up behind the research institute, and I heard voices. I quickly peered out of the window.

A burly man emerged from the car, brought out a folding ladder, and set it up against the window.

He used a glass cutter to create an opening just big enough for me to slip through. With his help, I left the ward.

Raffle was waiting in the car.

"Let's go," he said, constantly checking his watch.

"We need to hurry in case your father decides to visit you suddenly."

"Didn't you say he went to the palace today?" I asked.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean he won't suddenly want to check on you."

Yesterday, Raffle had contacted me, informing me that today was the day of my parents' funeral and asked if there was any message or gift I wanted to send.

I asked him to find a way to get me out of the research institute.

Raffle reluctantly agreed.

The car started.

"My wedding is scheduled for September," Raffle told me after a brief silence.

"I won't be attending your wedding," I replied curtly.

Raffle glanced at me. "I know."

I looked pale, and the hospital gown made me appear exceptionally frail. I kept rubbing a spot on my wrist that had turned bruised, a reminder of the prolonged intravenous drip.

"Stop that," Raffle held my wrist and used a handkerchief to cover the bruise.

"I just wanted to say something to distract you. You seem too nervous..."

"That's because I'm attending my foster parents' funeral!" I said, restraining my anger.

Raffle soothingly said, "I'm nervous too.

If my father goes to the research institute and discovers that I've taken you away, I'll be in big trouble."

I breathed heavily, my chest rising and falling dramatically.

Raffle patted my back. "Do you have your medication with you?"

"No, I'm fine for now," I replied.

"I hope so..." Raffle said.

When we arrived at the funeral, it was raining outside the church.

Both of my foster parents were believers, and I had attended many church services with them, but none had an atmosphere as heavy as this one.

The number of people at the funeral was unimaginable, many of whom didn't know my foster parents personally but had heard about the tragic incident in the news and came to the funeral to protest against the violence.

Raffle and I stood on the outskirts of the crowd, trying not to attract attention.

"Put this on," Raffle tightened my cloak, worried that someone might recognize me at the funeral.

"Do you want to bring something? I have some flowers in the back seat."

"No... no need," I said.

I stood outside the crowd, observing from a distance. A distant relative in black delivered a eulogy: "My foster parents lived a hardworking and self-sufficient life. They loved each other for decades, and although they couldn't have children of their own, they had a complete family. I hope they reunite in heaven, where there are no criminals."

Raffle handed me a tissue.

"I didn't cry," I said calmly, my voice trailing slightly.

Another person took the stage to mourn.

"I still can't believe they're gone like this! Just that morning, we talked on the phone about going to the adoption agency to see if there was still a chance to get another child. Then, at noon... I heard the news of their deaths... I thought it was some sick joke."

Raffle glanced at me again.

I just pulled my cloak tighter.

Next, a young and unfamiliar woman took the stage.

She seemed very agitated, and her hand holding the microphone was trembling.

"My... my father was also injured in the incident. He survived, but he lost consciousness and hasn't woken up since. I hope the people who caused the explosion can also taste the pain of losing a loved one!"

She broke down in tears on stage, her face contorted with hatred.

Raffle noticed me stepping back in fear. He reassured me, "Lucca, if you're uncomfortable, we can go back."

I looked at the leaden gray sky through the gap between people.

Yes, yes.

In addition to the three fatalities, there were countless injured. How much pain would this bring to their families?

I knew they weren't like me; they might not have suffered any harm since birth. This incident was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and it would shatter them, perhaps even have far-reaching consequences, destroying their future generations.

"I want to talk to that woman," I said in a low voice.

"After the funeral?" Raffle glanced at the time.

"I think it's better to..."

"Please," my voice trembled.

Raffle fell silent for a moment and then sighed, saying, "Okay. I'll keep an eye on Father."

Vincent's POV

In the palace's small conference hall, I came face to face with the person I disliked the most as soon as I returned.

Shelter sat directly across from me, engaged in a conversation with one of the ministers. He mentioned that his son was going to the Pack University for a year of exchange, thus fulfilling the Shelter family's tradition of three generations attending the university.

The minister asked Shelter when he planned to arrange a marriage for his younger son, and Shelter, with a subtle glance in my direction, replied, "You'll have to ask him himself about that. Our family doesn't have a history of arranged marriages."

I had the strong urge to pour the hot tea over his head.

David, however, responded with a cheerful smile, "So that's why the Shelter family has all these strange offshoots appearing overseas."

Shelter's expression remained unchanged.

"David! My apologies, I didn't mean to single out your five sisters. Besides, arranged marriages aren't necessarily a bad thing, are they? Look at how well Linda gets along with Vincent."

At that moment, I wished the tea in my cup was boiling hot.

I remained expressionless, and everyone at the table found this highly unusual. If Shelter was known for bearing humiliation with grace, then I was known for erupting into anger at the slightest provocation.

If anyone dared to speak ill of me in my presence, I would humiliate them to the point where they wished for death. I was rumored to keep a scrapbook specifically for collecting such insults.

The last person who openly opposed me had already died in the hospital.

Seeing that I didn't react, Shelter seemed to find the situation uninteresting and awkward.

He changed the topic and began discussing something else with the minister.

We were all waiting for the Wolf Queen to appear.

Wolf Queen was getting older, and her health was deteriorating. She often took a long time to get out of bed in the morning.

Just as we were all eagerly anticipating her arrival, I suddenly received a phone call. I got up and went to the window to take the call.

Everyone watched me quietly, and David's expression darkened.

"Alright, understood," I replied briefly to the caller. I returned to my seat and picked up my scepter.

"I'm sorry, I have to attend to an urgent matter. Please convey my apologies to Wolf Queen."

With that, I left in haste.