Revenge After Death

Steven had hidden upstairs without my knowledge. When I noticed him, he seemed to be secretly chuckling. However, when he saw me looking, his eyes filled with a pretense of sorrow. “Stephie, I’m in so much pain. I can’t sleep.”

What else could I do? I sighed and went upstairs to comfort him. I felt like I owed it to him.

“Stephie, give me a massage.” Steven requested. He lied on the bed and extended his arm for

a massage.

Distractedly, I massaged his arm.

Martin was unlikely to give up easily. Steven had just had an accident, and shortly after, I was also involved in an incident. Not long after, Ignatius had passed away. Martin’s tactics were ruthless.

“Stephie, it hurts here too.” Steven pointed to his chest.

Preoccupied with how to counteract Martin’s moves, I absentmindedly massaged wherever Steven pointed.

His chest was firm. Where had he built such a physique during his wandering years? It must be his genetic advantage. What would that make someone who spent every day in the gym?

“Stephie, my stomach hurts too.” Steven glanced at me. He was obviously pushing the envelope.

I was contemplating how to retaliate against Martin for the gifts he’d sent us recently. Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

Steven took my hand and placed it on his stomach, so I rubbed it.

His abs were well–defined and felt nice to touch.

But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. The connection between Martin and Peter was

troubling to me.

It was likely Michael’s doing. After all, he had never shied away from committing indecent

acts.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.

He actually had someone to hit Steven.

What good could possibly come from a connection between Martin and Peter?

I couldn’t recall what Peter had done to me. He was part of the memories I had lost and it

seemed like I was terrified of him.

“Stephie, it hurts here too,” Steven said while moving my hand lower.

I was lost in thought with my head propped on one hand. Meanwhile, my other hand…

When I realized what was happening, I instinctively raised my hand and smacked him.

Next thing I knew, I saw Steven curled up pitifully while covering his lower abdomen in pain.

“Stephie, you’re murdering your husband.”

My ears burned red. I grabbed his ear and warned him, “Shut up.”

Steven obediently went silent. He buried his head in the pillow, looking like he was about to suffocate himself.

I sighed helplessly and rubbed his head. “Steven, how are you planning to handle grandpa’s funeral? It needs to be grand, with lots of media coverage. You need to cry and act as a dutiful grandson.”

I said this softly, though I knew it was hard for him.

Ignatius had been harsh and even abusive towards Steven.

They had neglected Steven, leaving him in the orphanage despite knowing about his existence. They only wanted to bring him back to the Lincolns to add glory to the family when they realized he was a genius.

Yet, when his “madness” overshadowed his brilliance, they ruthlessly abandoned him. They

even wanted to erase this blemish completely.

The Lincoln family’s lack of humanity was starkly evident.

“The funeral won’t happen,” Steven said deeply while burying himself in the pillow.

Steven’s voice was cold and laced with bitterness, likely due to his throat’s condition.

“Won’t happen?” I paused. Skipping the funeral wasn’t an option.

Martin was seizing this opportunity to manipulate the narrative.

He was promoting himself as the current head of the Lincolns, implying that the Lincoln Group should be under his control.

There was a knock at the door, followed by barking.

I knew it was a stranger who had arrived.