CHAPTER 91: ART OF WICKEDNESS

"Who's dead?" Cecelia asked as sweat formed all over her body; she was cold yet hot. She stood up and sat down, all in a spirit second. She had yet to process anything that was said or happening. Paul tried to reach out to her, but he was lost in his world of pain, "how could this happen when he has barely enjoyed his life as a father? When he was getting to know his son?" The pain was exceptionally much for him, and his heart ached more with each second passing. "Cecelia, calm down! Cecelia, please sit down and calm down!" Sarah pleaded. Her eyes were full of tears, but she had Cecelia to worry about. "Y'all are saying Christian is gone, is that it? Like he's not just been kidnapped, he's never going to come here? I'm never going to see him again?" Cecelia asked as she put a head on her forehead. She was already feeling dizzy. "These are his clothes," Sarah said, pointing to the blood-filled clothes. She couldn't even fit the words into her mouth, so she pointed to the clothes. "