After being assassination thirteen times by my fiance, I finally Chapter 07

After being assassination thirteen times by my fiance, I finally Chapter 07

Diana’s Perspective 

When I and my bodyguards kicked open the large iron gate of that secluded sanatorium, a heavy cane made of rosewood came crashing down on us. 

“Bang!” 

My forehead was instantly smashed open, and blood flowed freely. 

“You beast! You dare to come here again!” 

I looked up in astonishment and saw my grandfather, who was recu- perating in Switzerland, standing in the center of the hall, his face contorted with rage, surrounded by fully armed bodyguards in black suits. He was the one who had taken Ivan away. 

“Grandpa?” I explained, rubbing my forehead. “I’m here to take Ivan away. He’s sus- pected of…” 

Suspected of what? Suspected of interfering with your affair with that male slut named Blake ?!” Old Mr. Thorne was trembling with anger and suddenly threw a stack of photos at my face. 

“Look for yourself! You’ve thrown tens of millions at that little bastard Blake, but do you know what kind of life Iv an is living? He’s in so much pain in his base- ment that he’s vomiting blood! He’s wash- 

ing dishes in a coffee shop! And you, for a fake car accident staged by an actor, al- most drained him of his life!” I frowned and argued, “He hired someone to kill Simon! I was just teaching him a lesson!” 

Suddenly, a recording started playing in the lobby -it was a backup of the hit–and–run driver’s dash- cam that Marcus had just cracked. 

“Mr. Black, I did as you instructed and only hit the bumper. I’ve also memorize d the name Ivan from the recording. When will the re- maining $100,000 be settled?” 

A deafening roar went through my mind, and my blood in- stantly froze. 

Simon…did Simon really direct and act in this all by himself? 

The slap I gave Ivan at the city hall… the crushing of his father’s ashes… the blood draw I gave him while he was tied up at a shady clinic… 

“I…I misunderstood him…” My voice trembled as I frantically went upstairs. “Where is he? Tell him to come out. I can make it up to him. I can give him the shares right away…” 

“It’s too late.” Grandpa closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “Your thirteen meticulously planned murders failed, but you still killed him in the end.” 

The fact that Grandpa said those “thirteen murders” in public felt like a resound- ing slap in the face. 

You… know everything?” I took a step back. 

“Ivan knew everything too! He knew from day one!” My grandfather’s words shat- tered my last shred of hope. 

“He knew?” I shook my head in disbelieff. “No, if he knew I did it, why would he stay by my side? Why didn’t he question me?” 

Because he’s so stupid! He said the debt of grat- itude he owes you to his father is suffocating you, and if it’s what you want, he’d give his life for you!” Grandpa slammed a medical record down on my chest. “Look at this! Look at the kind of person you’ve ruined!” 

I picked up the medical record with the red seal of New York Presbyterian Hospital, my hands trembling. [Ivan Green. Late–stage glioblastoma (brain cancer). Completely deteriorating.] Diagnosis date: Six months ago. 

“This…this is a fake…” My hands trembled so much that I couldn’t even hold the thin piece of paper, and tears suddenly streamed down my face uncontrollably. 

“He was dying, enduring excruciating brain pain ev- ery day, just to help you maintain your public image! And what did you do? You froze his car ds, leaving him without even money to buy pain killers! You even drained the last of his life- saving blood cells!” 

My heart felt like it had been crushed by a la rge, thorny hand. I remembered his pale face in the rain, and the quack doctor’s desper- 

ate warning: “His white blood cell count is terri- bly low! We can’t draw blood!” 

What exactly did I do? 

I want his life, but he was already dead! pushed past the bodyguards like a madman and rushed towards the second–floor ward.