The Twisted Obsession-Chapter 270: Dead.

The next day, news spread like wildfire. The eldest son of the Sinclair family, Alex Sinclair, had been involved in a tragic accident. His car had set on fire, and unfortunately, he hadn’t survived. Lily and Cage watched the news report, their faces a mix of relief and lingering anxiety. It seemed Abby had really come through for them. Remo had taken care of everything.

"S-she really helped us," Lily stammered, her voice thick with shame. "I-I didn’t think she would."

Cage’s expression was solemn, his thoughts drifting back to his conversation with Abby. He had seen the pain in her eyes, the betrayal, and yet she had still chosen to help them. "Abby is stronger than we gave her credit for," he said quietly.

Lily sank onto the couch, her shoulders slumping. "Who would have thought one day Abby would be the one to save us?" She looked at Cage, her eyes filled with remorse. "I was so jealous of her, Cage. She had everything—the perfect family, money. She was pretty. No matter what I did, I knew people would compare me to her. The high socialites wouldn’t accept me because my dad wasn’t rich."

Cage listened, his heart aching for the years of pain and insecurity that had driven Lily’s actions. "Lily, you don’t have to explain—"

"No, I do," Lily interrupted, tears welling up in her eyes. "I need you to understand why I did what I did. I was so desperate to belong, to be seen as more than just the poor girl. I bullied Abby because I thought if I could bring her down, I’d finally be accepted. But it was wrong, so wrong."

Cage moved to sit beside her, taking her hand in his. "Lily, we’ve all made mistakes. What matters is that you’re trying to make amends now. Abby helping us... it shows that people can change, that we can change."

Lily sniffled, wiping away her tears. "I don’t deserve her forgiveness. After everything I did to her..."

"Maybe not," Cage said gently. "But forgiveness isn’t about deserving. It’s about grace, about giving someone a chance to be better. Abby saw that, and that’s why she helped."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the past heavy between them. Lily leaned into Cage, drawing comfort from his presence. "I want to make things right," she whispered. "I want to show Abby that I’ve changed."

Cage nodded, his heart swelling with a mix of love and determination. "We will, Lily. We’ll make things right, together."

As they sat there, the news continued to play in the background, but it was just noise now. What mattered was the promise they had made to each other and the hope that they could build a better future.

Meanwhile, across town, Abby sat in her office, staring at the same news report. Her emotions were a turbulent storm of relief, guilt, and sorrow. She knew Remo had taken care of things, and a part of her felt a grim satisfaction that Alex was no longer a threat. But another part of her felt the weight of what had been done, the finality of it all.

Remo walked in, his presence a steadying force. "It’s done," he said simply, his eyes searching hers for any sign of regret.

Abby nodded, her expression somber. "I know. I just... it’s hard to process."

Remo crossed the room, sitting beside her. "You did what you had to do, Abby. You protected yourself, and you helped Cage and Lily. You made a difficult choice, but it was the right one."

"I know," Abby whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it doesn’t make it any easier."

Remo took her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "You’re not alone, Abby. We’ll get through this together."

She looked at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you, Remo. For everything."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Always."

******

Otis Sinclair couldn’t believe his son was dead. The news hit him like a freight train, leaving him dazed and disoriented. Gone, just like that? How? Accident? Alex?

He sat in his study, the television screen still showing images of the charred wreckage of Alex’s car. His hands shook as he reached for the glass of whiskey on his desk, needing something to steady his nerves. The liquid burned as it went down, but it did little to numb the pain and confusion.

His mind replayed the last few days, searching for clues. Alex had been acting strangely, more paranoid and erratic than usual. Otis had attributed it to stress or perhaps some trouble his son had gotten into, as Alex often did. But dead? It didn’t make sense.

"Alex?" he whispered to the empty room, the disbelief evident in his voice. "Gone?"

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of his study. There had to be more to this. Alex wasn’t just any ordinary man; he was a Sinclair. And Sinclairs didn’t die in random accidents. No, there was some foul play at work here, and Otis was determined to find the culprit.

Otis’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of conversations and observations. Alex had mentioned feeling like he was being watched, had complained about people being against him. He had even hinted at someone close to him betraying him. At the time, Otis had dismissed it as his son’s usual dramatics, but now he wondered if there was truth to it.

He slammed his fist on the desk, anger and frustration bubbling up. "Who did this to you, Alex?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I will find out, and they will pay."

Otis reached for his phone and dialed his most trusted investigator. "Get to my office immediately. We have work to do."

As he waited, Otis’s mind continued to churn. There were too many unanswered questions. Why had Alex been so agitated? Who could have wanted him dead?

He thought of all the people in Alex’s life, the enemies he had made, the friends who might have betrayed him.

When the investigator arrived, Otis didn’t waste any time. "I need you to find out everything you can about Alex’s last days," he ordered. "I want to know who he talked to, where he went, everything."

The investigator nodded, his face set in a grim expression. "I’ll get on it right away, Mr. Sinclair."

As the door closed behind the investigator, Otis sank back into his chair, his mind still racing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Someone had orchestrated Alex’s death, and they were going to regret it.

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