The Unlucky Turn by Mark Twain 278
Dr. Larson hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. “I understand.”
Leaving the office, the smile instantly vanished from Tamara’s face. She walked quickly to the restroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water onto her burning cheeks.
The woman in the mirror had exquisite makeup, but her eyes were terrifyingly sinister.
Tamara didn’t even know how she made it out of the sanatorium and back to her car. She stood in the parking lot outside the facility, the night wind making her shiver.
“Hippocampus healing… Memory flashbacks…”
These medical terms exploded in her mind, every word hanging over her head like a guillotine.
Dr. Larson’s words echoed in her ears. “Ms. Sloan, you don’t need to worry too much. Just let nature take its course.”
Let nature take its course? Hah!
Tamara gripped the steering wheel tightly, her fingernails nearly embedding themselves in the leather.
If Yvonne really regained her memory, then the lies she had carefully woven over the years, the engagement she had fought so hard for, and her status in both the Sherwood and Sloan families would all burst like bubbles!
No! She couldn’t just sit and wait for death!
Tamara returned to her room. The curtains were drawn tight, and only a dim desk
esat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone screen for a long time, before finally dialing a number she knew by heart.
The phone rang for a long time before it was picked up. A raspy, low male voice came from the other end. “Yeah?”.
Tamara took a deep breath, her voice pressed extremely low. “It’s me.”
The other party fell silent for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh. “The Sloan family heiress? What? You finally decided to contact me?”
Ever since the man had botched the last job she gave him-and nearly got caught on security cameras-Tamara hadn’t contacted him for a while. But now, with a crisis looming over her, Tamara knew only one person capable of handling dirty work. The feeling of begging someone for help was unbearable:
Tamara bit her lip. “…I need you to take care of someone for me.”
A laugh of unclear meaning came from the phone. “Who?”
“Yvonne.”
The man paused, his tone amused. “The little princess of the Sherwood family? Your fiancé’s own sister?”
Tamara’s fingertips trembled, but her eyes revealed a vicious resolve. “Don’t worry about who she is to me. Name your price.”
The sound of a lighter clicking came through the phone. The man took a drag of his cigarette and spoke slowly. “The Sherwoods aren’t ordinary people. The risk is too high.”
“Five million.” Tamara threw out a number immediately.
The man scoffed. “Ms. Sloan, do you take me for a beggar?”
Tamara closed her eyes. “…Ten million. Cash.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by the man’s low laughter. “Deal.”
He paused, his tone suddenly turning cold. “However, Ms. Sloan, let me remind you. There’s no medicine for regret in this world. I do the job, you pay the money. It’s a clean transaction. Don’t let your precious fiancé sweet-talk you into selling me out later. If that happens, don’t blame me for dragging you down with me.”
Tamara gripped the phone, her voice icy. “I know.”
She wasn’t crazy or stupid. Yvonne was Milford’s most beloved sister. If he found out she was plotting against her…
Tamara could imagine just how furious Milford would be. And then there was Gloria.
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