Chapter 461: Chapter 460: Let’s Go to Hell and Repent Together
This was all so utterly unbelievable!
He stared blankly at Annabelle Linton’s corpse. After a few stunned seconds, he threw himself upon her and began to wail, his heart breaking.
The Leona Grant in the dream cried with even greater sorrow, eventually weeping until he passed out...
Annabelle Linton’s body was taken to the morgue. When Leona Grant woke up, he spent an entire week in there, weeping over her corpse.
The room was cold, refrigerated to preserve the bodies.
He cried out endlessly, "My love, I’m begging you, please don’t leave me..."
"I never got the chance to tell you I love you. I never got to give you a good life. I owe you so much, so why did you have to leave me like this?"
Leona Grant refused to allow her burial. Day and night, he clutched Annabelle Linton’s body and wept. He would cry until he passed out, and the moment he awoke, he would run back to the morgue to cry again, only to collapse once more...
No one could reason with him...
After a week of this, he coughed up blood, his body succumbing to the overwhelming grief, and fell into a deep coma...
He finally awoke half a month later.
Annabelle Linton’s body could not be preserved any longer, so Patrick Grant had taken charge and arranged for her cremation...
The first thing Leona Grant did upon waking was run to the morgue, but Annabelle Linton’s body was gone...
He completely broke down. Unable to even stomach liquid food, he was kept alive by an IV drip, intermittently muttering that he no longer had to wait for the one he’d been waiting years for.
Just when everyone thought he was done for, he suddenly appeared before them one day, impeccably dressed, and announced that he was going to marry Vivian Yates.
Vivian Yates was ecstatic, believing her day had finally come.
She never imagined that on the day she joyfully donned her wedding dress, a knife would plunge precisely into her abdomen.
"Leona, you..."
"I don’t care what your motives were. I don’t want to know, and it doesn’t matter anymore..."
Leona Grant’s face was pale, like that of the noble lord of a castle. He was still devastatingly handsome, his expressionless face radiating an immense, domineering aura.
They say the cruelest fall is from fantasy to reality. After all, wasn’t marrying me everything you worked for?
A wicked smile played on his lips. "Of everyone who ever laid a finger on Annabelle Linton, I haven’t left a single one alive. Now, only you remain..."
With that, he stabbed her again. "Go repent in hell."
"Vivian Yates, welcome to hell with me."
Leona Grant’s voice sounded distant, ethereal and laced with a casual indifference.
But Leona Grant didn’t just stab Vivian Yates to death.
Instead, with his own hands, he slowly dismembered her—first her hands, then her feet, then her head, her eyes, her mouth, carving her up piece by piece...
Her hands had struck Annabelle Linton.
Her feet had kicked Annabelle Linton.
Her mouth had cursed Annabelle Linton.
Her eyes had glared at Annabelle Linton.
Her head would be an offering to Annabelle Linton.
’Yes. So, let them all pay the price.’
’What goes around, comes around.’
’However they humiliated her, I will return it in kind—tenfold, a hundredfold, a thousandfold, ten-thousandfold. How does that sound?’
’And that, of course, includes me.’
Leona Grant smiled, a tragically beautiful smile, like a blooming poppy.
He leaped from the 100-meter-high rooftop.
Blood splattered on impact—a dazzlingly beautiful sight, yet one that had ultimately withered...
In his last moments, he smiled, his eyes shimmering with tears, and whispered gently, "Annabelle, I’m coming to be with you..."
In the end, his body lay shattered on the ground, a gruesome sight...
When people were going through his belongings, they discovered the following message:
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