Chapter 63 63

Chapter 63 63
Meanwhile, on a quiet, lush street in the Kensington area, a yellow taxi pulled up in front of a classic building with grand white pillars. The Kensington Art Gallery stood gracefully, surrounded by autumn trees with leaves beginning to turn yellow.

Clara stepped out of the taxi, her hand still clutching her handbag tightly. She stared at the building for a moment. The atmosphere around the gallery was deathly quiet, a stark contrast to the bustle of downtown London she had just left behind. Only a few pedestrians passed by in the distance.

She stepped inside the gallery. The air within felt cool and smelled of oil paint and old wood. The high ceilings created an impression of vastness and solitude. The gallery walls were filled with contemporary paintings that appeared abstract and full of emotion.

Clara walked slowly down the main hall. Her low-heeled shoes made a rhythmic tapping sound that echoed against the marble floor. Her heart continued to pound. Every shadow caught in the corner of her eye made her jump.

"Mrs. Craig, you are right on time."

The smooth, baritone voice emerged from behind a large sculpture installation in the center of the room. Clara stopped abruptly, turning toward the source of the sound.

Julian Vane stood there. He was no longer wearing his formal suit. This time, he wore a black turtleneck sweater and a long, dark gray coat, making him seem to blend into the dim shadows of the gallery. His face was calm, yet his sapphire-blue eyes radiated an intensity that made Clara want to turn and run immediately.

"Mr. Julian," Clara’s voice trembled slightly, though she tried to stand tall. "I am here. Now, tell me what the meaning of all those terrifying messages is."

Julian smiled—a smile that offered no warmth whatsoever. He stepped closer, maintaining a polite distance but close enough to make the aura of his presence feel oppressive.

"Let’s take a short walk, Clara. This gallery is beautiful, isn't it? These paintings... they all tell stories of loss and betrayal. They suit our mood today perfectly," Julian said, gesturing toward a large painting in front of him.

"I didn't come here to look at paintings, Julian," Clara replied firmly. "Tell me about the girl in that photo. About your sister. What does she have to do with Raymond?"

Julian stopped walking, staring at the painting before him with a vacant gaze. "Chloe. She was half of my soul, Clara. She was the very definition of sincerity. And your husband... the man you call your protector... trampled her heart until it shattered into pieces. He humiliated Chloe in front of the entire world simply because she dared to love him."

Clara fell silent; she could feel the very real pain in Julian’s voice. Yet, she still tried to defend her husband. "Raymond may be cold, Julian. He may be arrogant. But that doesn't make him a murderer. You said he killed your sister."

Julian turned, looking directly into Clara’s eyes. They were now only a few inches apart. "Killing doesn't always require a weapon, Clara. Cruel words, public humiliation, and deliberate neglect... those were all bullets that pierced Chloe’s soul. Raymond knew Chloe was a fragile girl, but he still chose to destroy her for the sake of his ego. And after Chloe was gone, did Raymond feel guilty? No. He forgot my sister's name the day after she was buried."

Julian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a dull, brown envelope. He handed it to Clara.

"Open it. This is the last letter Chloe wrote before she ended her life. Read it, and you will know who the real monster you are sleeping next to every night is," Julian whispered.

Clara’s hands trembled as she accepted the envelope. She was just about to open it when Julian’s phone in his coat pocket vibrated.

Julian looked at the screen, then smiled thinly. "It seems your wonderful husband has realized you are missing, Clara. He is on his way here with his entire entourage. He is terrified. He is afraid his secrets will be exposed."

Clara stared at Julian in confusion. "How do you know?"

"I have been waiting for this moment for ten years, Clara. I know every move Raymond Craig makes," Julian replied. He stepped back, retreating into the shadows. "Read the letter now. Before your hero arrives to steal the truth away from you once again."

Clara stared at the envelope in her hand, then looked toward the gallery entrance in the distance. From afar, she heard the sound of sirens drawing closer, the screech of tires against the asphalt outside. Raymond had arrived. Yet, that painful curiosity now forced her to tear open the envelope in her hands. She had to know the truth, whatever the risk.

Clara’s hands trembled violently as her fingertips tore open the dull envelope. The paper inside felt cold, as if it carried the chill of death from a buried past. Outside, the sound of police sirens and the roar of engines speeding by cut through the silence of Kensington, but inside this gallery, time seemed to freeze.

"Read it, Clara," Julian whispered, his voice sounding like a snake’s hiss amidst the silent marble pillars. "See for yourself how the man you adore destroyed the purest of souls."

Clara pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper. The handwriting was hurried, filled with tear stains that had dried years ago. Clara’s eyes moved rapidly, sweeping across every line filled with despair.

He never saw me as a human being. To him, I was just trash blocking his path. Raymond Craig stripped me of my honor in front of everyone; he forced me to feel worthless simply because I loved him. He said I didn't deserve to live in his magnificent world.

Clara’s chest tightened. Every word felt like a sledgehammer blow to her convictions. "This... this is impossible. The Raymond I know would never do something this cruel."

"The Raymond you know is a mask, Clara!" Julian stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the dimly lit gallery floor. "He is a sociopath who knows how to wear an expensive suit. He made Chloe feel helpless; he used his family’s power to silence every cry for help from my sister. Chloe died because that man considered other people's lives to be worth no more than the numbers on his financial reports."

Clara shook her head vigorously, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. Could it be true? Was their contract marriage just the beginning of a greater darkness? Her mind drifted to those early nights at the Craig mansion, when Raymond would stare at her with a deadly coldness. Yet, she also remembered how he held her during the storm, how he risked his life to save her.

"You’re doubting, aren't you?" Julian smiled thinly, his eyes glinting with triumph. "That is a sign that your heart knows the truth. He framed your father, he forced you to bear his heir, and now he is manipulating you with fake love. He only needs your womb, Clara. Once you are no longer useful, you will end up just like Chloe."

The sirens outside suddenly stopped. The sound of the gallery’s front door being forced open echoed down the hallway where they stood.

"Clara! Where are you?!"

It was Raymond’s voice. It was the roar of a wounded lion, filled with pure rage and fear.

Clara jolted; she started to run toward the source of the sound, but her concentration was shattered by the sudden pain in her heart caused by the letter. That moment of distraction was the opening Julian had been waiting for.

With lightning-fast movement, Julian lunged forward. Before Clara could scream, a strong hand covered her mouth with a cloth soaked in a sweet-smelling, stinging chemical.

"Mmmph! Mm-mm!" Clara struggled, her fingers trying to claw at Julian’s arm, but her strength suddenly evaporated.

Her vision began to blur. The high gallery ceiling seemed to spin. The sharp scent of chloroform choked her lungs, forcing darkness to drag her consciousness into the deepest abyss. Clara’s body went limp, falling into Julian’s cold embrace.

"Your hero has arrived, Clara. But he is a little too late for this final act," Julian whispered in a tone that was incredibly calm, almost gentle.

Julian lifted Clara’s helpless body with one jerk. He stepped quickly toward a wall covered by a giant landscape painting. With one press on a hidden frame, the wall shifted silently, revealing a secret passage leading to the gallery’s basement. This was a place he had prepared for years, a labyrinth that no ordinary person would ever find.