Chapter 4The Dead Star's Livestream

Sam turned off the livestream.

The wound on her face wasn't deep, but enough to make her furious.

"Bad luck! Truly bad luck!"

She threw my diary on the ground, stomped twice.

"Dead already, still not peaceful!"

She picked up the phone, dialed a number.

"Hello? Mr. Wang? Yes, it's me."

"Something unexpected happened, that Luke seems to know about the medicine... yes, he has receipts."

"Can't wait, cremate directly tomorrow morning."

"What memorial service? Cancel! Drag directly to burn!"

"As long as burned to ashes, even gods can't find cause of death!"

I floated in the corner, chilled all over.

Cremate tomorrow morning?

If no autopsy, if not found I was killed by swapped medicine, I really died in vain!

And, my inheritance, my $1.2 million, will all fall rightfully into this murderer's hands!

No!

Absolutely not!

But what can I do now?

Explode a bulb? At most scare her.

I need help.

Luke.

Only Luke can help me.

But Luke was kicked out, where is he?

I tried floating out.

Before I could only move three meters around the corpse.

But this time, maybe because that bulb explosion gave me confidence, I actually floated out of the villa gate.

It was late at night.

By the road outside the villa, a figure squatted.

It was Luke.

He didn't leave.

He had gauze wrapped around his head, curled up under the street lamp, tightly clutching that plastic bag full of medicine receipts.

Gnawing on a cold bun while staring at the villa gate.

"Sis..." he muttered, "I won't go, I won't let them burn you."

"I want to take you home."

My tears—if ghosts have tears—fell down.

I wanted to hug him.

Wanted to tell him, Sis was wrong, Sis used to be a jerk.

Suddenly, several black vans stopped in front of Luke.

Doors slid open, seven or eight people holding sticks got off.

Leading was Sam's head bodyguard.

"Kid, haven't rolled yet?"

Head bodyguard sneered, "Sister Sam said, you are an eyesore here, let us send you off."

Luke threw away the bun, stood up.

Although injured, that fierceness was still there.

"What do you want?"

"What? Shut you up."

Bodyguard swung a stick over.

Luke didn't dodge, took a hard hit, then backhanded a punch on the bodyguard's face.

"I fight you!"

But he was one person after all, they were seven or eight.

Soon, Luke was beaten to the ground.

Sticks fell on him like raindrops.

"Stop hitting! Stop hitting!" I cried, rushing over trying to block for him.

Useless.

Sticks passed through my body, smashing on Luke's back.

Making dull thuds.

Luke curled up, protecting that plastic bag in his bosom dead tight.

That was evidence.

That was his only weapon.

"Grab that bag!" Head bodyguard shouted.

Several people went up to pry Luke's fingers.

"No! This is my sister's life! I won't give!" Luke roared, fingers cracked by force, but he just wouldn't let go.

"Cripple him!"

Bodyguard raised an iron rod, smashed down hard on Luke's arm.

Crack.

Sound of bone fracture.

Luke screamed, fainted from pain.

Plastic bag was snatched.

Head bodyguard took out a lighter, in front of the unconscious Luke, set that bag of receipts on fire.

Fire light reddened the night sky.

My heart, completely cold.

Evidence gone.

Brother crippled.

What do I have to turn the tables?

Bodyguards got in cars and left.

Leaving Luke alone lying in a pool of blood, dead or alive unknown.