Chapter 90

Lucas's POV

The moment those words fell, Campbell's face turned completely bloodless, as if someone had drained all the blood from him.

His sunken eyes rolled wildly, almost bulging out of their sockets. I took a step closer, forcing him to meet my gaze, pinning down his chaotic pupils with my stare, "Looks like you remember now."

Campbell's fingertips began to tremble, causing the hair by his cheeks to shake along with them, and some white dandruff fell onto his shoulders.

His voice was rough and hoarse, like an old, poorly maintained radio, every part struggling in rust, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

It wasn't until I leaned my ear closer that I could barely make out a few words, "You... you are..."

These simple words said it all, including the fear Campbell couldn't hide.

I glanced at Eleanor standing behind me, then said in a volume only Campbell and I could hear, "I've been waiting for this day for a long time. I thought you'd remember on your own, but you're so slow. You naively thought I was going after you just because of Eleanor? Mr. Volker, you've been a godfather for so many years—even if your brain doesn't work well anymore, you shouldn't think I'm targeting you over a woman."

I knew this was very unfair to Eleanor and lacked respect, as if I was just using her as a pawn.

But that's the truth. Women, in my eyes—no, in any godfather's eyes—were more often just decorations in life, not the core.

What we carried on our shoulders was the survival and future of the entire family. Even if I loved a woman to the point of madness, I would never start a war over her.

Campbell finally seemed to understand something. His lips trembled, opening and closing several times before he could barely squeeze out a voice, "Do you have proof? What makes you say their deaths have anything to do with me?"

The composure Campbell had barely managed to muster instantly collapsed. He was shaking all over with emotion, almost needing someone to support him to stand steady.

I raised my head, looking down at him from above. The fear in his eyes gave me a sick kind of excitement—this was exactly the effect I wanted.

I wanted him afraid, wanted him to live in endless anxiety from now on.

He'd lived peacefully for so many years. It was time for him to pay for the crimes he'd committed in the past.

I deliberately stayed silent, enjoying his torment, until Campbell couldn't take it anymore and reached out to grab my shoulder. I stepped back, and he immediately lost his balance, nearly falling to the ground.

His current miserable state was all his own doing. I felt no sympathy.

Burning with anxiety, Campbell's speech became slurred, his tongue somewhat stiff. Even so, he still struggled to crawl toward me, looking like a worm wriggling on the ground—disgusting.

Eleanor's hand rested on my shoulder as she pleaded softly in my ear, "Lucas, let's go. Don't cause trouble here."

Eleanor's warm body pressed against my back, which made me lose interest in continuing to confront Campbell.

Before leaving, I asked him coldly, "You say it has nothing to do with you? Then let me ask you—how do you know who they are that I just mentioned? And why did you immediately try to clear yourself?"

I looked down at him. His desperate and pathetic appearance made me feel physically sick.

Eleanor's grip on my arm grew tighter and tighter. I knew she couldn't hold on much longer. I left Campbell with one last line, "Some things can't be erased just because you say you didn't do them. The truth will always surface—it's just a matter of time. And I have all the time in the world to wait."

The light in Campbell's eyes went out completely. I couldn't be bothered to look at him anymore and turned to leave, pulling Eleanor's hand.

The conversation with Campbell just now made me uncontrollably think of the past—the car accident before my father's incident, my mother's suicide. These memories were like a rope that kept tightening, strangling my brain.

My temples throbbed, my head aching like it was about to split open.

I didn't know how long Eleanor had been standing beside me until her cool palm touched my thigh, gently rubbing it.

I slowly opened my eyes to see her reddened eye sockets and worried face, "Lucas, are you okay?"

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Eleanor's brow, her bright eyes flickering with concern.

"Eleanor." My emotions today were indeed a bit out of control. I raised my hand, and she immediately grabbed it in perfect sync, pressing it against her cheek, "What do you want to tell me?"

Her focused expression was like a family member waiting by a sickbed for a patient's last words.

I couldn't help but laugh, "I'm not dead yet. What are you so nervous about?"

Eleanor gave my hand a light slap—it felt like a kitten's paw gently scratching at my heart.

My fingers slid across her face, feeling the elasticity of her skin.

Her pointed chin pressed against my palm, slightly sharp. She was leaning almost all her weight on my hand, as if she had no bones.

After resting briefly for a few minutes, I stood up and looked toward the brightly lit hall, "Let's go. We've been here so long and haven't seen tonight's truly important person yet."

"Important person?" Eleanor looked thoughtful, her eyes unconsciously drifting toward Campbell's direction, "Not him?"

I knew that from earlier until now, Eleanor had been wanting to ask me what Campbell and I had talked about. For someone with her personality, holding back until now was really not easy.

I turned to look at her and took the initiative, "Don't you want to know what I said to him?"

Eleanor paused. Her answer was beyond my expectations, "I don't want to."

I raised one eyebrow, "You don't want to?"

Eleanor lowered her head, her shoulders shrinking slightly, then I heard her calm and restrained voice, "I won't pry into things I shouldn't know."

Eleanor took a deep breath, raised her head, and looked at me with utmost seriousness, "Lucas, I don't know what you said to Campbell, but I could see you were in pain just now. Fortunately, you recovered quickly. If I asked, it would be like forcing you to relive that pain again. I don't want to do that."

"Eleanor."

I hadn't expected her to say this. I'd thought she was just holding back because she sensed my resistance.

I didn't realize she'd thought this deeply about it.

A warm current flooded into my heart, endless and continuous. Ignoring the eyes around us, I held Eleanor tightly. I knew this embrace would be seen by many people and meant I was publicly acknowledging her position.

But I couldn't care about all that. Eleanor's understanding was like a flame beginning to melt my long-frozen heart.

Besides holding her tightly, I didn't know how else to express what I was feeling right now. This was a challenge for me, but fortunately, Eleanor didn't seem to need a standard answer either.