Chapter 3: Sinclair Luther die for Love

"These people?" A subconscious unease washed over Camilla, who was now a spirit. Could it be that Sinclair had detected her presence and called these people over to seize her? Also feeling uneasy was Ramsey, who stood behind several others. Ever since the Lady had passed away, Mr. Luther had been behaving unusually. He always had a dire premonition. But before the old master arrived, he had no power to stop Mr. Luther, nor did he dare to. "The requirements remain the same," Sinclair didn't deign to recognize his entrants. His hands softly played with a loose strand of hair that had fallen to Camilla's ear, his gaze full of crazed obsession, "I want her to be forever chained to me, generation after generation, for all eternity, never being able to leave, regardless of life or death." To be bound to him forever, generation after generation, for all eternity? Camilla's heart started to pound. She looked at Sinclair's expression with complex feelings. Was the reason that her spirit was now trapped and unable to leave his side due to this intention? Sinclair's affection for her had indeed reached an obsessive and insane level. "Rest assured, President Luther, we will do our utmost." After nodding their heads, they started their operations one after another. This unorthodox ritual lasted from morning to night, a good seven to eight hours. It wasn't until late into the night that it came to an end. During this time, each of the masters took several turns to rest, yet Sinclair held onto the already stiff corpse of Camilla, accompanying it at the sidelines from beginning to end. He didn't move, didn't shift his gaze, only the atmosphere around him became increasingly lonely and heavy. It was as if he was the only one left in the world. Looking at Sinclair in such a state, there was an inexplicable bitterness in Camilla's heart. "Mr. Luther," Tyle was the first to speak. "The ritual is over, we..." "Ramsey," Sinclair interrupted him. "Transfer ten million to each of their accounts, send them back to the hotel, and also," He looked at Camilla, a hint of murky darkness flickered in the depths of his eyes. "Dismiss everyone in Luther's mansion, tonight, I want to be alone with Camilla." Dismiss everyone? Upon hearing this, a sense of inexplicable unease flashed through Ramsey's heart again. "Mr. Luther--" "Ramsey," Sinclair's voice deepened, carrying an air of unquestionable authority. "I won't repeat myself." "Yes," Ramsey had no choice but to nod and leave with the group of masters. As he was about to step out of the door, an old man dressed as a Catholic priest turned his head to look at Sinclair, a touch of helplessness flashing in his eyes. The fate of the prayers, breaks due to affection. At midnight, the moonlight disappeared. "Camilla," As he lay next to Camilla, Sinclair embraced her as he used to, his voice filled with sentiment and huskies. "If you knew what I was doing, you would definitely laugh at me, wouldn't you?" The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint, despairing smile on his handsome, pale face, but his eyes gleamed with profound sadness. "I have never believed in God, ghosts, but for the sake of finding you again, I still want to give it a try." "Even if, there's only a glimmer of hope." Sinclair's words were like a needle stabbing into Camilla's heart, causing a severe pain to course through her internal organs. She clutched her heart, watching Sinclair. "Now, there is only one last thing to do." With a faint smile, Sinclair dumped the liquid he had set beside the flower, all over the white roses and the furniture in the room. Camilla awakened from her deep thoughts in alarm, her heart skipping a beat. What on earth was Sinclair doing? Having done all this, Sinclair lay back down on the bed. "Camilla, isn't this your favorite flower?" He leaned his face against Camilla's neck, looking extremely fatigued but still wearing a faint smile. "Now, I'll take them to accompany you, forever," he said in a deep and hoarse voice, full of affection yet tinged with an unmistakable note of irrevocable resolution. Camilla's heart ached as if it was being burned, and her feeling of unease deepened. The unease turned into shock and despair when she saw Sinclair pull out a lighter. She instantly realized that the fluid Sinclair had spilled was gasoline!! "No, don't, Sinclair!!" Camilla's spirit moved to Sinclair's side, reaching out to grab the lighter from him, but her hand passed right through. "Don't Sinclair, I don't want you to join me, I want you to live your life!!" "I was wrong before, I'm sorry, so sorry. Could you please continue to live well?" "Sinclair!!" She stood next to Sinclair, shrieking in agony. But Sinclair couldn't hear any sound. "Camilla, don't be afraid," Sinclair took out the handcuffs from his pocket, cuffed Camilla's wrist to his, and after a soft kiss on her lips, he leaned against her neck. His eyes, always full of an obsessive, intense love for her, gradually closed, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. "I'm here with you now." Without any hesitation, he threw out the lighter in his hand. Frantically shaking her head, Camilla's face was streaked with tears. "No, no!!" "Boom--" Gasoline was suddenly ignited, and the roaring flames spread throughout the room in an instant. But Sinclair felt no pain at all. Because when he lost Camilla, he was already dead. The fire grew larger and Camilla's spirit began to dissipate. At this moment, Camilla suddenly came to her senses, finally seeing the truth clearly. She loved Sinclair. Deeply, profoundly loved him. "Sinclair, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Her heart was aching unbearably, as if it had been severely scorched, filled with regret and self-reproach. "If there truly is another life, I will definitely be with you!!"