Buried Without His Regret Chapter 08
His touch was gentle, carrying a quiet, almost desperate care he didn’t even realize.
At the same time, an urgent investigation report was delivered to Caitlin.
The private investigator had worked fast.
The first page showed the financial records of Evangeline’s studio. Every transaction from her artwork traced back to shell companies controlled by Richard.
The second page listed my medical records from three years ago.
The hospital name stood out immediately. It was the most well-known psychiatric center in the city.
Under diagnosis, two words were written clearly: severe depression.
Caitlin’s hands began to shake.
She turned another page. It was a transcript of my last call with my doctor before I jumped into the ocean.
The doctor asked, “Has Mr. Mueller been spending time with you lately?”
My voice was soft, like it could shatter at any moment. “He’s busy. He’s celebrating with Ms. Roberson.
“Doctor, what do you do when someone takes every bit of light out of your life?”
Caitlin’s eyes widened. The report slipped from her trembling hands.
Meanwhile, in Christopher’s study, the atmosphere was heavy.
He had just gotten off the phone with the company’s CFO.
Richard, the cousin he trusted most, had siphoned off tens of millions of dollars over the past three years under various pretexts.
That money had ultimately been funneled into Evangeline’s offshore accounts.
When Caitlin burst into the study, her face was pale as paper.
She didn’t say a word. She threw the report, still damp with tears, directly in front of Frederick.
He looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression a mix of exhaustion and obsession.
The slap echoed sharply through the villa.
Caitlin had used all her strength. Her palm was numb.
“You killed your own wife for that woman!” she shouted, her voice breaking.
Frederick’s head snapped to the side, his cheek instantly swelling.
Frederick’s head snapped to the side, his cheek instantly swelling.
He didn’t hit back. He just let out a cold laugh. “She was weak! She couldn’t handle being exposed as a plagiarist!”
“You disgrace!” Christopher’s voice roared over the phone, filled with fury. “You’re not worthy of this family!”
Frederick froze.
I hovered above, watching this long-overdue reckoning without emotion.
The next day, Caitlin went alone to the cemetery outside the city.
My grave was newly built, marked only by a black-and-white photo and my name.
She knelt there, crying, apologizing over and over.
Not far away, Nicholas sat in his wheelchair, watching quietly.
When she saw him, she struggled to stand, as if she wanted to say something.
In the end, she said nothing. She dropped to her knees again and bowed deeply in his direction.
Nicholas’ face showed nothing.
He turned his wheelchair and left in silence, leaving Caitlin behind as she broke down.
Nicholas’ face showed nothing.
He turned his wheelchair and left in silence, leaving Caitlin behind as she broke down.
That night, Frederick woke from another nightmare.
He sat in the dark, convinced someone else was in the room.
It felt like someone was watching him, the gaze cold and heavy with sorrow.
He spun around, but there was no one there.
But the feeling didn’t go away. It clung to him, pushing him closer to the edge.
“Shannon…is that you?” His voice was hoarse as he spoke into the empty room.
Inside another apartment elsewhere in the city, Evangeline and Richard were planning their escape.
“Once the last transfer comes through, we’ll go to Switzerland and never come back,” she said, leaning into him, smiling as if she had already won.
Richard swirled his drink and kissed her forehead, smug and satisfied.
I floated outside their window, watching them.
Just then, I noticed something else.
From the shadows at the street corner, a black car sat quietly.
Inside, one of Christopher’s most trusted bodyguards held a high-powered pair of binoculars, aimed directly at their window.
Christopher was moving faster than I expected.
An audit team made up of his most loyal people had already entered the Mueller Group overnight.