Chapter 330 Funeral
Rain poured in through the shattered window, soaking her clothes and hair. Her body trembled with overwhelming grief, and everything before her eyes blurred.
"George, come back! Please, come back!" Her voice grew softer until it was just a faint whimper.
Her consciousness began to fade, and everything turned dark. She collapsed to the ground, still clutching the wedding ring tightly in her hand.
When Emma woke up, it was already the next morning. She lay in a hospital bed, the rain outside had stopped, and sunlight streamed through the curtains onto the floor.
Her mind was blank until she saw the wedding ring in her hand, and the events of the previous night came rushing back.
"George," she whispered, tears welling up again.
Just then, the door to her room opened, and Sophia walked in, her face full of concern.
"Emma, you're finally awake." Sophia walked to the bedside and took her hand. "How could you be so reckless? Do you know you almost..."
"Where's George?" Emma interrupted, her voice trembling. "Is he really dead?"
Sophia's face stiffened, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes. She was silent for a moment before nodding.
"The news confirmed it. He fell from the twenty-second floor and died instantly." Sophia's voice was low, tinged with a sob.
Emma's body shook violently, and tears streamed down her face again. She clutched her chest as if her heart was being torn apart.
"Why? Why did this happen?" Her voice was filled with pain and despair.
Sophia looked at her, heartbroken, but didn't know how to comfort her.
Meanwhile, in a hotel room at Lakeside Haven, George stood by the window, gazing out with a deep, contemplative look.
His forehead was wrapped in bandages, and his hand was heavily bandaged, but his expression remained stern and resolute.
"How is Emma?" he asked quietly, a hint of pain in his voice.
Joshua, standing behind him, replied softly, "Ms. Jones saw the news of your death and rushed to the scene last night. She broke down and fainted. She's in the hospital now, but she's not doing well."
George's fist clenched tightly, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.
"She believed it?" he asked, his voice tinged with bitterness.
Joshua nodded. "Yes, she believed it."
George closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his voice low and hoarse. "Good. Let her think I'm dead."
This way, she wouldn't run away again.
"Mr. Russell, about Ms. Lewis..."
Joshua trailed off. Although George had faked his death to escape Phoenix's clutches, Phoenix had indeed tried to force George. Should someone like her be spared?
"Don't kill her."
"Understood."
It was intriguing, George's command. Not killing her meant she would be left alive, but how Joshua chose to deal with her was up to him.
George had no time or energy for these minor matters now. He had to start his revenge.
'Michael, you dared to take my wife and my business? The humiliation you inflicted on me, I will return in kind!' The humiliation you inflicted on me, I will return in kind' George gazed at the scenery outside the window, lost in thought.
George's funeral was held on a gloomy afternoon. The sky was overcast, and even the wind carried a biting chill. White roses and lilies adorned the farewell hall, black ribbons hanging in every corner, casting a somber atmosphere over the entire scene.
In the center of the hall was a photo of George, his usual stern and deep expression seemingly watching everyone who came to say goodbye. The casket was surrounded by white flowers, and the flickering candles cast a soft glow on the mourners' faces, reflecting their pain and complex emotions.
Charles stood at the front of the hall, his expression calm and his gaze profound, as if he had long come to terms with life and death. Dressed in a black suit, he leaned on a cane, his back straight. No one knew his true feelings at that moment; he shed no tears, standing silently.
Scarlett, however, was completely shattered. She wore a black lace dress, her hair disheveled, her eyes bloodshot, and she seemed on the verge of madness. She sat collapsed at the front of the hall, pounding the ground with her fists, crying out George's name.
"George, my son! How could you leave me like this? How could you abandon me?" Scarlett's voice was sharp and piercing, cutting through the silence and striking everyone to the core.
Her emotions quickly spiraled out of control, and she glared viciously at Emma, who had just arrived at the hall's entrance. "It's you! It's all your fault! If it weren't for you, George wouldn't be dead! You jinx! You killed my son!"
Emma stood at the entrance, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, her face turned pale. She neither argued nor defended herself. Instead, she bowed her head and let Scarlett's accusations rain down upon her.
"Get out! Get out of here! You don't deserve to be here! George is dead, are you happy now? Are you here to laugh at the Russell family?" Scarlett screamed, rushing forward to push Emma out.
At that moment, Michael stepped in, blocking Scarlett.
"Scarlett, that's enough! George's death isn't Emma's fault. You can't blame her for everything. What you should be doing is finding the real culprit, the one who led George to that place."
Michael's words fell on deaf ears. Scarlett's eyes were filled with rage and despair as she pointed at Emma, screaming hysterically, "Not her fault? If it weren't for her, would George have jumped? She killed my son!"
Michael frowned. To be honest, he didn't believe George would commit suicide so easily. He felt this was all part of George's plan. But facing Scarlett, he kept his suspicions to himself, offering only a formal consolation. "George is gone. If you keep this up, he'll never find peace in heaven."
Something in Michael's words seemed to reach Scarlett. She paused, then collapsed to the ground, covering her face and sobbing.
Standing to the side, Phoenix's face was pale, her fingers gripping her sleeves tightly, her knuckles white. Her heart raced, as if it might burst from her chest. She kept her head down, trying not to draw attention, but Scarlett's cries echoed in her ears.
"What if the police find out the truth? What if they discover it was me?" Fear and anxiety filled her mind. She knew she was connected to George's fall. It was her manipulation and schemes that had driven George to such a desperate act.
She didn't dare look up or approach the hall, afraid the Russell family would see her guilt. She whispered to herself, "No one will know. The police haven't come for me. Everything will be fine."
But her hands trembled uncontrollably, and she dropped her expensive handbag to the floor.
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