Chapter 180

Chapter 180

He closed the file and tossed it aside.

Leon stood at the door for a long time, hesitating, before he finally spoke, "Mr. Smith, back then, you once said you intended to marry Ms. Windsor. Later, you gave up on it, and she married Henry instead."

The Jacob from the previous lifetime leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, as if digging through something buried very far in the past.

"She was so ungrateful." His voice was soft, so soft that it sounded like he was talking to himself.

And after that, he never mentioned that name again.

Jacob stood there now, looking at that man's indifferent face, and a kind of anger he had never felt before surged up inside him.

He wanted to rush over, to wrap his hands around that man's throat, to tell him that Elizabeth had given him a child, had suffered so much for him, had died for him, down in that dark basement, alone, dying slowly and in agony.

But he couldn't say any of it. Because he knew that man didn't care. That man didn't care about anything.

Because he was that man.

The scene began to move again. Jacob saw himself sitting in a wheelchair, with someone standing in front of him.

It was Henry, a much older Henry, his face twisted into a fawning smile as he bent at the waist like a dog wagging its tail and begging.

"Mr. Smith, you were looking for me?"

The Jacob from the previous lifetime looked at him, his eyes cool and distant.

"Where's your wife?" After countless long nights, the name Vincent had whispered before he died kept resurfacing in his mind, along with the sight of Jack's body he had once seen in that warehouse.

Jacob had finally decided he wanted to see Elizabeth.

At the very least, he wanted to see Jack's mother on Jack's behalf.

Henry's face went stiff.

His eyes darted, and his smile turned even more ingratiating. "She… she's not well. She's at home resting. Mr. Smith wants to see her? I'm afraid that's… not very convenient."

"Don't make me repeat myself." The Jacob from the previous lifetime cut him off. "Bring her out."

The blood drained completely from Henry's face.

He opened and closed his mouth, trying to say something, but no sound would come out.

His lips trembled, a fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead, and his fingers twisted anxiously at the seam of his pants like a thief caught red-handed.

The Jacob from before watched his reaction, and his gaze went cold. "My patience is limited."

Henry dropped to his knees with a heavy thud. "Mr. Smith, I… I don't know! I really don't know! That woman, she—"

"That woman?" The Jacob from the previous lifetime sounded even colder. "She's your wife."

Tears began to stream down Henry's face, though it was impossible to tell if they were real.

"Mr. Smith, I… I wronged her! I'm scum! But she died from illness, she really did!"

For the first time, there was the slightest flicker in the Jacob from before's eyes. "She's dead?"

"Dead!" Henry sobbed harder. "After she had the baby, she just… just… her health never recovered. And then she just…"

He didn't finish the sentence. The Jacob from before stared at him in silence for a long time. "Take me to her."

Henry froze. "Mr. Smith—"

"Take me to her." The Jacob from the previous lifetime repeated, his voice not loud, but carrying a pressure that made disobedience unthinkable.

Henry didn't dare argue again. He got to his feet, wiped at his tears, and led the Jacob from before out of the study.

Jacob—the onlooker—followed behind them, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

He knew what he was about to see. He didn't want to, yet he couldn't stop his feet from moving. They passed down a hallway, crossed the garden, and stopped in front of a small, secluded building. Henry took out a key and opened the door; there was an elevator inside.

The elevator went down, and then farther down. When it stopped on the second basement level and the doors slid open, a long corridor stretched out in front of them, with an iron door at the far end. Henry pulled out another key, his hand shaking so badly he could barely get it into the lock.

When the iron door swung open, a damp, rotten stench rushed out to meet them.

The Jacob from the previous lifetime frowned and pushed his wheelchair inside.

The room was very dark, lit only by a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, which cast a weak pool of light over a figure in the corner.

Strictly speaking, it was a corpse. No—she wasn't completely gone yet. There was still the faintest, almost imperceptible rise and fall.

Elizabeth.

Jacob stood there, staring at the mattress where a woman lay, so thin she was no longer a recognizable shape, her whole body covered in wounds, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes half-open and half-closed, and his tears slid down without a sound.

She was so thin, as thin as a skeleton.

Her hair was a matted mess. There were streaks of dried blood on her face, bruises blooming blue and purple along her arms, and dirt and dust packed under her fingernails.

Jacob—the bystander—wanted to rush over, to scoop her up, to pull her out of that hell.

But he couldn't move. He could only stand there and watch as his past self pushed the wheelchair forward, slowly, inch by inch, until he reached the edge of the mattress.

The Jacob from before lowered his head and looked at the woman.

Her eyes were half-open, the pupils unfocused, impossible to tell if they caught anything at all. Her lips moved faintly, as if she was trying to say something, but no sound came out.

He looked at her for a long time.

Then he reached out and gently brushed the tangled hair away from her face.

Her face was exposed, pale as paper, cheekbones jutting sharply, eye sockets deeply sunken.

But he recognized her. The woman who had smiled so brightly in that photograph, the woman he had once intended to marry and then abandoned. His fingers hovered on her face for a moment, then drew back.

"Damn it," he murmured, his voice so soft it might as well have been to himself.

"What?" Henry didn't catch it, but the next second, a gunshot cracked through the tiny room, and his eyes flew wide in disbelief.

A bullet had gone straight through the center of his forehead. The man who had fired it didn't even bother to look back to confirm it; he could already feel Henry's life vanish.

Elizabeth's eyes shifted. Her pupils slowly tightened into focus as she looked at him.

Her lips moved again, and this time a sound came out, very soft, as light as a breath of wind.

"My baby…" she whispered. "My baby…"

The Jacob from the previous lifetime was silent for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice hoarse. "The baby's fine. His name is Jack. He looks like you."

Elizabeth's lips curved, little by little.

It was a smile, a smile blooming out of pain and despair, so heartbreakingly beautiful it could make a person cry.

Her eyes slowly slid shut. Her breathing grew lighter and lighter until at last it faded like a wisp of smoke, disappearing into the still air.

The Jacob from before sat in his wheelchair, staring at her face, utterly motionless.

After a long time, he reached down, pulled the thin blanket off his own legs, and drew it up over her face.

"Leon." His voice was very soft.

Leon stepped in from the doorway, head lowered. "Mr. Smith."

"Burn this place down. The room and the body—everything goes."

Leon froze for a moment, "Mr. Smith, the woman's body —"