The Bigshot Married Himself to the Heiress Chapter 899 - 890: Laura, Are You Well in Heaven?

Abyanabad, Desmond Manor,

Back when Sienna Johnson ran away, just to make trouble for herself, she公开了 one of her stash spots. That really brought her a lot of trouble back then.

Inspired by Sienna Johnson, Adrian Desmond felt he could use the sa trick to give Night Owl a headache.

And there really were idiots who believed there was treasure on Death Island, like Abraham! That only made Adrian more certain about this plan.

Barnes Smythe was in charge of drawing the treasure map, Brandon Potter and Sabrina Conner were in charge of spreading the rumor. Under the effect of human greed, a lot of people actually bought it.

"Mila, I didn’t expect you to be this good at drawing?" Looking at the lifelike, antique-style treasure map, Sabrina Conner had the pleased feeling of "my kid is aweso."

"This isn’t a drawing, it’s a map!" Barnes Smythe corrected her, then went back to crunching on his apple.

Adrian was very satisfied. "Nicely done, way beyond my expectations."

Brandon Potter snorted and said coolly, "Actually, we didn’t really do much of anything.

There are way too many people in this world who want sothing for nothing and dream of getting rich overnight. When they see this news, we don’t have to say a word; they’ll talk themselves into believing it."

"Heh, I hear the killers on Death Island are pretty tough. Wonder how many unlucky bastards are going there just to die." Sabrina Conner said, gloating.

"..."

"Get rich overnight? More like lose your life overnight."

Adrian only cared about whether Abraham would go attack Death Island.

"Any news from Abraham’s side?"

Marion relayed what he’d found out to Adrian. "The rumor about treasure on Death Island has already spread through Kalare, and there really are people gathering up, planning to head to Death Island in search of it. After Abraham heard, he got even more anxious. I don’t think it’ll be more than a few days before he makes his move too."

Adrian’s lips curled into a smile. "Good."

"Sixth Master, when are we going to attack Death Island too? Wipe that place out!" Sabrina Conner asked, full of fighting spirit.

Adrian lifted his eyes and glanced at her. "Soon."

"We’re really going to hit Death Island?"

"You think I did all this because I was bored and had nothing better to do?"

Adrian is the kind of man who either doesn’t act at all, or, once he does, he never leaves hidden dangers for himself.

Night Owl is like a gleaming dagger hanging over his head, ready to fall at any ti and stab him dead.

How could Adrian possibly let Night Owl keep staring greedily at his life?

Besides, his daughter is still young, and his son is about to be born. They have no way to protect themselves. Adrian has to clear out every danger for his children.

...

One Abraham wasn’t enough; Adrian needed more external help. He thought of the relatives of those kids from Death Island.

For example... Laura Rowell.

In the study,

Adrian sat there with a cigarette dangling from his lips. With each drag, the tip flared and dimd.

Only the desk lamp was on, his face half-buried in the darkness, hiding his expression, but the grief and killing intent rolling off him were impossible to miss.

There was a stack of photos on Adrian’s desk.

On top was a photo of a little girl, about five or six. She wore a light purple gauze dress, with blonde hair and erald-like eyes, pretty as a porcelain doll.

Her smile was dazzling, like she had no idea what "heartbreak" even ant in this world.

The little girl was on the lawn playing with a sheepdog; behind her was a big Castle. This little girl’s na was Laura Rowell.

The little Princess of the Rowell Family in Avrupa. When Adrian t her, her na was 3782.

"Laura, how are you in heaven?" His fingertip gently stroked her face in the photo as he asked softly.

In the dead of night, his voice sounded especially deep, like a lonely cello playing in the dark.

When Laura was ten, she was killed by her good friend Alice in a duel.

The one who should have died was Alice. If Laura had been as cold-blooded and ruthless as Alice, she would have survived.

"I wonder if your grandpa ever found that bottle of wine."

Adrian dialed Jack Rowell’s number.

"Hello, who’s this?" This was Jack’s private line; not many people knew it, but the incoming number was unfamiliar.

"Haven’t you been looking for your granddaughter Laura all this ti?" Adrian said.

The voice on the other end instantly lost its calm. "Where is she?"

"In heaven."