Chapter 4The Billionaire Paid a Fortune for My Cursed Diary

Her voice carried an eerie, hollow echo.

"Grab her! Take the book!" Adam ordered, tapping his cane sharply.

Two guards lunged at Florence.

Just as their hands were about to touch her, Florence moved.

She held the open diary up to her chest, turning the first page directly toward the face of the two approaching men.

"Look," she whispered, a serene smile on her lips. "Here is the truth."

Two deafening gunshots echoed through the concrete garage.

The moment the guards saw the page, they did not hesitate. They turned their weapons on themselves, putting the barrels into their own mouths and pulling the triggers.

Blood and bone splattered across Florence’s face.

She did not even blink, her terrifying smile remaining perfectly intact.

"They're insane! Shoot her! Shoot her down!" Adam screamed, panicking in his wheelchair.

Florence rushed forward, grabbing the armrests of his wheelchair before his guards could react.

"Mr. Sinclair, didn't you want to see it? Let me show you."

She forced his eyelids open, slamming the open diary directly onto his face.

Adam let out a horrific, gurgling scream.

His body convulsed in the wheelchair, dark, thick blood pouring from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

The remaining guards were too terrified to fire, and the garage fell into absolute chaos.

Taking advantage of the panic, I dragged myself up and ran toward the exit. I had to destroy the diary.

But as I burst out into the alley, a barrage of camera flashes blinded me.

Dozens of reporters and internet streamers had blocked the exit.

"She's out! That's her! The woman with the cursed diary!"

"We're live, everyone! This is the owner of the hundred-million-dollar diary!"

"Tina Liu! What did you write in that book? Why does everyone who looks at it end up dead?"

Microphones were shoved into my face, the flashing lights making it impossible to see.

"It's this evil woman! She ruined my son, and now my daughter is trapped in there!"

Beatrice, her head wrapped in bloody bandages, pushed through the crowd, grabbing my hair to drag me in front of the cameras.

"You are going to show the world what is in that book tonight! Let everyone see what kind of monster you are!"

"Let go of me! I don't have it! Florence has it!" I screamed, struggling against her grip.

"Liar!"

Before Beatrice could say more, the crowd parted.

Florence walked out of the dark garage, drenched in blood, holding the diary high above her head.

Every camera instantly focused on her.

"Don't you all want to see?"

She walked right up to the lens of the nearest phone.

She slowly opened the cover, exposing the first page to the high-definition camera.

"No!" I cried out, closing my eyes.

"Look! Look closely, all of you!" Florence shrieked, pressing the bloody page against the lens.

Across the internet, millions of screens were filled with the image of the yellowed paper.

I lay in the mud, waiting for the mass tragedy to unfold.

Seconds ticked away, but there were no screams of agony from the reporters, nor any panicked alerts from the livestream chat.

"How... why aren't you going mad?!"

Florence stared at the phone screen, the veins in her eyes bulging.

I opened my eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head, and looked at the phone lying on the ground.

The only sound in the dark alley was the distant, muffled screaming of Adam Sinclair from inside the garage.