The Unlucky Turn by Mark Twain 297
Carola patted her shoulder triumphantly. “Don’t worry. After today, you will be the legitimate Mrs. Sherwood! Trash like Leilani isn’t even fit to tie your shoes!”
The two looked at each other and smiled, clinking their glasses lightly, looking as if victory was already in hand.
On the other side, Milford stood at the entrance of the banquet hall, welcoming the guests. Dressed in a sharp suit, he looked distracted.
Milford’s gaze swept toward the entrance from time to time, as if waiting for someone.
“Milford, what are you looking at?” Gloria walked over and reminded him in a low voice, “Go with your father to greet his friends. Today is your wedding day. I don’t want to say too much, but try to look happy. If people see you looking like this, it’s bad for you and for our family!”
Milford withdrew his gaze and gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment.
The wedding was about to begin, and the guests took their seats.
The master of ceremonies walked onto the stage and announced with a beaming smile. “Distinguished guests, welcome to the wedding of Mr. Milford Sherwood and Ms. Tamara Sloan!”
Thunderous applause followed.
Tamara, holding her father’s arm, walked slowly down the red carpet toward the stage, a happy smile plastered on her face.
Milford stood on the stage, but his eyes involuntarily swept toward the entrance of the banquet hall
again.
It was empty. He lowered his eyes, forcing a bitter smile.
Leilani really didn’t come. Maybe that was for the best.
Meanwhile, inside the abandoned warehouse, the damp, cold air was thick with the smell of blood.
The hitman, Ghost, had been tied to a chair for two days and two nights without a drop of water. His eyes were bruised and dark, his lips cracked. He looked like a dehydrated corpse drained of all vitality.
Callahan sat opposite him, his long fingers tapping lightly on the table. His voice was cold as ice. “Still not talking?”
Ghost trembled all over, his voice hoarse. “I… I really don’t know… When I made the deal, the other party used a burner phone. The money was sent to me in different batches…”
Callahan’s eyes darkened. He stood up slowly, his leather shoes clicking clearly against the floor. “It seems you haven’t been locked up long enough. In that case… you can stay here for another week. I
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hope you’ll still be holding out by then.”
Ghost had been locked in this abandoned warehouse alone for two days, surrounded by darkness with nothing to hear but his own breathing, unable to distinguish day from night. Just two days had tortured him to the breaking point.
Now, hearing that Callahan intended to keep him there for another week, Ghost’s pupils constricted. He shrank back in terror. “No! Don’t keep me here! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”
He wailed in a breakdown. “I only know… the target wasn’t just Leilani. It was also the eldest daughter of the Sherwood family, Yvonne!”
Callahan’s gaze sharpened instantly. “Yvonne?”
Ghost nodded frantically. “Yes! They said… Yvonne must die, and Leilani must die too. Afterwards, they’d give me a million dollars…”
Callahan asked coldly, “Where’s the money?”
Ghost answered, shivering. “It… it was wired to an overseas account.”
He knew he couldn’t withstand Callahan’s methods, so he confessed everything.
Inside the black Maybach.
Callahan handed the video of Ghost’s confession and a file to Leilani.
“Ghost spilled everything. Tamara was behind it all. I checked it out-the account that paid Ghost is linked to a supplementary card belonging to the CEO of Sloan Group.”
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