The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 191

This was starting to sound a bit far-fetched.

“I remember Cheryl once told me that memories after death can be distorted,” Yves reasoned. “If those people were paid off before boarding the plane, maybe their memories got warped after death. They’d genuinely believe the old man got on the flight, and subconsciously, they wouldn’t think they’d betrayed their boss.”

“That’s easy to check,” Lindsay offered. “Just go through their bank statements. If there was a big deposit into all their accounts before the flight, especially from the same source, then it’s obvious—they were bribed.”

Yves nodded. “I was already planning on it.” He looked at Lindsay, who seemed utterly exhausted. His heart ached for her. “You should get some rest. Don’t overthink it. What’s done is done.”

Lindsay squeezed his hand, her voice unusually tender. “You too. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here with you.”

He smiled at her. “Go get some sleep.”

“And you, don’t wear yourself out,” she said softly.

Yves nodded in reply.

Lindsay had rushed to Haven at first light, and now the fatigue hit her like a wave. She collapsed onto the bed and was asleep instantly, but her sleep was far from peaceful.

Dark dreams plagued her. She saw Mr. Quigley Sr., locked away in a pitch-black basement, starving and parched. His body bore signs of torment, his frame gaunt and frail.

Then the scene shifted. She caught sight of Horace, clad in a white coat and surgical mask, intent on some grim experiment. Lindsay tried to call out to him, but no sound escaped her lips.

Suddenly, she saw Horace with a syringe, plunging it into Mr. Quigley’s arm. Within moments, the old man’s face contorted in agony; his body convulsed violently, foam bubbling at his lips, blood seeping from the corners of his eyes.

That was why, the moment Yves had woken up, his first thought had been to fire Horace.

“People can fake everything—their names, their lives. Horace might not even be his real name,” Lindsay said grimly.

She changed the subject. “Did you find anything from the investigation?”

Yves nodded. “Each of their accounts received five million before the flight—wired in from different accounts.”

He shook his head. “With that kind of money on the table, who wouldn’t be tempted? As the saying goes, money makes the world go round.”

“Can you trace the sender?” Lindsay pressed.