Chapter 73: The Real Murderer is in My House

Chapter 73: Chapter 73: The Real Murderer is in My House

After leaving the Lynn family home, I took a cab to my old house.

After my parents died in a car crash, I sold off all our properties to pay off the debts. The only thing I kept was this old house. It held all my memories with them.

Getting out of the cab, I looked at the place I hadn’t seen in so long, a complicated expression on my face.

I took out the key hidden in a flowerpot and stood there in silence for a long time before finally opening the door.

The house was quiet. There were photos of me, and my parents’ old belongings.

The house looked the same as it always had, but things were different now. The people were gone.

Sitting on the sofa, I quietly gazed at the painting on the wall.

Everything felt like a dream.

CLICK...

Suddenly, a faint sound came from behind me.

My body stiffened, and every nerve went taut.

’There’s someone in my house?’

Not daring to turn around, I slowly reached for my phone, wanting to call the police.

But it’s always like this. When you’re in a state of extreme panic, you fumble around, and it takes a huge effort just to unlock your phone screen.

I could feel someone behind me, watching me, slowly approaching.

I sucked in a sharp breath, shot to my feet, and whipped my head around to look behind me.

In the doorway of the room stood a man holding a club, his face dark as he stared at me.

I was so scared I froze on the spot, my throat tight.

That man...

That man! He was tall, with black hair and a grim face. A large burn scar covered the right side of his face, and there were burns on his fingers, too. His whole appearance was horrifying.

The feeling was identical to the terror I felt right before I died.

"Did you follow me?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

I opened my mouth, but for a moment, I couldn’t get a single word out. It was a fear that came from the depths of my soul.

"How did you know I was here?" He frowned, tossing the club aside as if this were a normal conversation.

I stared at him rigidly.

’This voice... It’s definitely him. The man who killed me. It has to be!’

’But... he seems to know me?’

’No... right now, I’m in Silvia Lynch’s body.’

’Why does he know me?’

"I... I didn’t know you were here," I said in a small voice, taking a deep breath. "Isn’t this where Cecilia Caldwell used to live? I... I’ve gotten close to her friend, Madeline Quinn, recently and asked where her old place was."

The man sat down on the sofa. "I’m just hiding out here for a few days."

I stood rooted to the spot, watching him stiffly.

"Looks like your imitation is a success," he mocked, his voice hoarse.

"..." I froze, my entire body rigid.

’What does he mean?’

’What’s the relationship between Silvia Lynch and this man? Imitating what?’

"Well..." My mind raced, but I had no memories of this man.

’The old man is in trouble now...’ I guessed, ’so our collaboration must be about something related to the Lancaster Family.’

"You’re pregnant with his child?" The man seemed uninterested in the Lancaster Family’s affairs, merely staring at me darkly.

A chill ran down my spine. This man looked like he could kill me at any moment.

’But why... is he staying in my house?’

"Yes..." I whispered.

The man suddenly laughed, a crazed look in his eyes.

I grew nervous, not knowing what to say.

"He thinks you’re Cecilia Caldwell?" he said, more to himself than to me. "He really thinks you’re Cecilia Caldwell? HAHAHA... So much for being ’loved to the bone.’ It’s nothing special after all. Any random person can replace Cecilia Caldwell in his heart!"

My whole body tensed as I stared at him in astonishment.

’What does he mean, he thinks I’m Cecilia Caldwell?’

"Don’t get clever." Suddenly, his smile vanished, and the menacing aura around him intensified. "You think if you come here looking for traces Cecilia Caldwell left behind, imitating her, he’ll just keep listening to you obediently?"

I didn’t say anything, letting him talk.

"Finish the task I gave you as soon as possible. Don’t get any funny ideas," he warned in a low voice.

I drew in a sharp breath. ’What task did he give Silvia Lynch?’

’Is it related to Asher?’

’Asher thinks Silvia Lynch is Cecilia Caldwell?’

’In other words, he thinks Silvia is me?’

’The ’Cece’ Asher calls out... he means Cecilia Caldwell, not Silvia Lynch?’

"I understand..." I clutched my phone, anxiously watching the man, desperate to get out and call the police.

’This man... He’s definitely a murderer.’

"You can go," he said with a wave of his hand.

I nodded and ran.

"Don’t harbor any unrealistic fantasies. He only sees you as Cecilia Caldwell. He’ll never develop real feelings for you," he warned again as I reached the door.

I ran out of the house without looking back, my legs weak.

I took out my phone, wanting to call the police, but I froze for a long moment before I realized—what would I even say?

’That he’s a murderer? Where’s the proof?’

’If I can’t produce any evidence, won’t I just be tipping him off?’

’But why is he staying in my house?’

’What is this supposed to be?’

’A provocation?’

Just as I ran out of the hallway, I bumped right into someone’s arms.

It was Asher.

He wrapped his arms around me, his voice hoarse. "Why do you always run off..."

He was worried about me.

"You..." I hugged Asher tightly, searching for a sliver of security.

The man upstairs sounded a lot like Asher. Both their voices were hoarse and deep, as if their throats had been ruined by something.

"How do you always manage to find me?" I looked up at Asher and asked nervously.

Asher didn’t speak.

"Did you put a tracker on me?" I pressed.

"I was just... afraid something would happen to you." Asher averted his gaze.

I glanced back nervously, terrified the murderer upstairs would come out.

Grabbing Asher’s hand, I quickly pulled him away.

"Where’s the tracker?" I asked Asher.

Asher didn’t say anything.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" I frowned, getting a little angry.

Asher took my wrist and rubbed the bracelet on it.

Then he touched the pendant on my necklace.

Heh... ’So all the jewelry I have to wear every day has trackers in it?’

And that wasn’t all.

His hand finally came to rest on my phone.

I was so angry my breathing trembled. ’So I’m covered in trackers from head to toe.’

Asher looked wronged, pulling on my hand. "Cece..."

"Let’s go. We’re going home," I said, a persistent chill running down my spine. I started running back, pulling Asher with me.

I was terrified of being targeted by that murderer.

’That murderer doesn’t know I’m Cecilia Caldwell, right?’

’There’s no way he could have imagined something as bizarre as me being reborn, could he?’

’But what exactly did he ask Silvia Lynch to do? I’m in Silvia’s body now. If I keep investigating, will I end up investigating myself? Could Silvia have been his accomplice?’

"Cece, is something on your mind?" On the way back, Asher held my hand the entire time and asked.

I didn’t answer.

I was trying to figure out what to do next.

...

I didn’t say a single word to Asher all the way home.

Asher stayed by my side, very quiet.

"Asher... I heard from Madeline Quinn that you went to the police station before and confessed to being a murderer. Why?" I asked, probing him.

Asher glanced at me, then lowered his head.

"If you don’t want to talk about it... then forget it." I was afraid of making him suspicious.

I still suspected that Asher and the murderer staying in my house were in it together.

"That person said... if I went and confessed to being the murderer, he would give you back to me." Asher’s voice was hoarse. He kept his head down, his hair obscuring his eyes, so I couldn’t make out his expression.

But I could feel him trembling.

"Who is he..." I watched Asher nervously. "Give *me* back to you? Did he mean Silvia Lynch, or Cecilia Caldwell..."

Asher looked up, his gaze burning into me.

The murderer said that Asher was treating Silvia Lynch as a substitute for Cecilia Caldwell.

So the person Asher really wanted to save was Cecilia Caldwell? The "Cece" he called out every day was also Cecilia Caldwell?