Mr. Burns Is Killing His Wife

Chapter 15 - Every Chance Meeting Was Her Long Premeditation

As Elisa walked over alone, the hesitant reporters all rushed forward, shoving microphones in her face and asking sharp, probing questions. Elisa's petite body was wedged in the crowd. She felt her body being constantly pushed, crowded, pulled and tugged. Her sick and feverish mind was already unfocused, and facing the crowd's piercing stares and questions, she felt as though she was being torn apart and devoured alive.

In the chaos, there was a sudden "Bang!" Someone's camera had collided with Elisa's forehead, the sharp edge scraping her skin and splitting it open in a small cut.

Bright red blood trickled down her forehead into her eyes. Her vision filled with red, and the stinging pain forced Elisa to close her eyes. After her eyes had adjusted to the irritation, she opened them again. The reporters in front of her seemed oblivious to her injury. They continued shoving their microphones upward relentlessly. One of them raised a mic and asked an unrelated question: "Miss Powell, we heard that Mr. Burns originally had a fiancee four years ago. Was it you who came between them? Is this true?"

As soon as the reporter finished asking, there were gasps all around. Elisa and Hamish had been married four years but never appeared together in public, so everyone guessed they had a loveless marriage of convenience. But no one expected there to be such a shocking backstory - that Elisa was a third party. And third parties never came to good ends.

Elisa reached up and wiped the blood from her forehead. Her gaunt little face broke into a dazzling smile at the cameras, the corners of her lips turning upward, though her eyes remained chillingly cold and somewhat crazed.

All of Elisa's subtle actions were magnified in front of the reporters. Not speaking was seen as admitting guilt, smiling was seen as mockery and disrespect - she was the epitome of shamelessness. Just as they were about to continue questioning her, Elisa suddenly stood still in an open space and bent her knees, kneeling down. She kept her back ramrod straight, as if nothing could break her. The reporters were taken aback, then immediately stirred into an uproar. The princess of the Powell family, Elisa, had actually knelt down in front of the cameras!

So all kinds of sensational headlines instantly appeared across major online platforms:

"#Elisa kneels to win back husband, apologizes to ex-fiancee#"

"#Elisa kneels to repent for her murderous father#"

"#The princess of the Powell family turns out to be a third party? Kneels in public begging for forgiveness#"

The cameras all turned to focus on her, capturing her kneeling image.

"Miss Powell, now that the Powell Group is facing bankruptcy, will Mr. Burns divorce you?" A reporter asked another sharp question.

The flashbulbs focused on Elisa's face, trying to capture her subtle expressions. But no matter how long they held on her, Elisa remained expressionless.

Voices clamored around her as Elisa gazed emptily ahead. A sense of loneliness closed in on her from all sides, seeming ready to swallow her whole.

The dark clouds overhead grew thicker and heavier, as if ready to collapse at any moment. After a few muffled rumbles of thunder, the winds picked up and rain poured down in thick drops that hit Elisa's nose. Her long lashes fluttered lightly.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Seeing the rain, the photographers immediately put away their equipment and the reporters scattered to find shelter, leaving only Elisa still kneeling in place.

The downpour drenched her face and soaked her clothes, plastering them to her body. She was very cold, as if the chill had seeped through her skin into her bones, even her soul was shivering. Hamish stood not far behind her, watching as she knelt motionless like a puppet in the curtain of rain. By the time Tobias arrived with bodyguards, most of the onlookers had already dispersed. The bodyguards formed a circle around Elisa, shielding her from the crowd.

Not understanding the situation, Tobias clicked his tongue and asked Hamish beside him, "Why is Miss Powell kneeling? How long has she been like this?"

"Not long, half an hour."

Tobias glanced over - it seemed Hamish had ordered her to kneel, though the reason was unclear. Since Hamish said half an hour, it would be exactly half an hour, not a second more or less. Tobias looked at the woman kneeling in the middle of the road and suddenly felt a twinge of pity.

Somehow the victims' families got word that Elisa was kneeling here, and a group of them came running over in the rain, throwing whatever trash they had prepared at her.

A green soda can struck directly on the wound on Elisa's forehead, the yellowish liquid streaming down her blood-smeared face.

After a few seconds of dead silence, a woman's shrill voice rang out from the crowd.

"Elisa, your dad deserves to die! And you're no saint either! Your whole family are locusts! Scum!"

"That's right, your dad got in trouble but you disappeared for four days to fool around with your man instead."

"There's not a single good person in the Powell family. Koby's death rid the people of a plague, he ruined so many families."

"Throw stuff at her shameless face, no one will stop us anyway!"

In an instant, the mood around them erupted. No matter what people had in hand, they pelted it at Elisa while the bodyguards standing in front of her scowled but didn't dare to move.

At this moment Elisa was like a rat crossing the street, despised and under attack from all sides. The dignity on her shoulders was shattering bit by bit.

Chaos reigned around them. Elisa's frail body swayed left and right. It hurt so much - her head, stomach, abdomen, knees - no part of her body was without pain.

Elisa's eyes remained vacant. Her bluish lips were pressed tightly together. She sniffled, inhaling a breath of icy air into her lungs. Her rigid back slowly bent forward against her control. Hamish's brows knitted together, his deep dark eyes black as droplets of ink, hiding his thoughts from view. Beside him, Tobias cautiously asked, "Mr. Burns, do you need help?"

The rain was pouring down heavily.

The previously flat ground was now

filled with puddles, raindrops splashing up ripples as they fell. Just looking at Elisa kneeling in it made Tobias feel chilled to the bone.

Hamish pressed his lips in a thin line without responding. His gaze swept over and he felt like Elisa seemed be crying. He had always been indifferent to her tears, but for some

1.not

reason today, his mood matched the

scattered rain outside.

Hamish glanced at his watch - it had been exactly half an hour, not more nor less. He held out his hand, "Give me the umbrella."

Tobias was startled for a moment before quickly opening the umbrella in his hand and passing it over.

Hamish walked slowly toward the rain, holding the umbrella over himself. The downpour beat heavily on the umbrella with a pattering sound. His innate aura drew frequent backward glances from passersby.

He stood in front of Elisa and held the umbrella over her. Only now did Elisa react slightly. She looked up and stared intently at Hamish, as if looking past him at someone else.

The two gazed at each other like this - one standing, one kneeling. She was as lowly as mud while Hamish loomed high above.

After the rainwater mixed with her tears and grew hot and scalding, Elisa asked hoarsely, "Is... is the time up?"

"Yes, you can get up now."

But Elisa didn't move. It wasn't that she didn't want to get up, but that she couldn't. Her body was already weak, and after being locked up for four days then kneeling in the Keavy rain for half an hour, even she didn't know how she had endured it.

The icy chill penetrated into her knees, as if she was kneeling on a bed of nails digging into her bones. She couldn't help coughing lightly, almost bringing up blood. "Hamish, how many years have we known each other?"

Hamish wondered if the cold had damaged Elisa's brain - why was she suddenly asking this? But still he answered, "Six years."

Elisa shook her head, muttering inexplicably, "No, not six years. Sixteen years."

That spring day so long ago, she hadn't thought much, only wanted to remember him and love him. And so she had loved him for a full sixteen years.

Whether it was meeting him six years ago, or forcing him to marry her four years ago, it had all been in preparation over the course of a decade. She had planned the beginning perfectly, yet never imagined how cruelly Hamish could end things.