Revenge After Death (Michael and Stephanie) novel Chapter 138

Chapter 138 

I scoffed, realizing that even within esteemed families, self–interest was paramount. Sadly, that was just human nature. 

“They’re still keeping these old clothes?” I noticed Steven’s ill–fitting and faded outfit from his homeless days still hanging on the rack. 

After bringing him home and cleaning him up, I found it odd that the Lincolns hadn’t thrown away his dirty clothes. 

“These clothes are cherished by Mr. Lincoln and are off–limits to anyone,” Ewan intervened, preventing me from touching them. 

I was curious why Steven treasured these worn–out and oversized clothes. 

“Have you seen this boy before?” My thoughts returned to the photo. I pointed to a timid- looking boy standing behind Steven. 

“That’s Simeon Kent. He was another genius boy at the Double Stars Welfare Home who shook the city of Huma back then,” Ewan sighed as he looked at the photo. 

After a short silence, he continued, “Sadly, he died in the fire at the orphanage that year. Mr. Lincoln would’ve died too, but he miraculously survived.” 

I was shocked. “Was the fire accidental?” 

“It was arson,” Ewan stated firmly. 

“Did they catch the killer?” I asked urgently. 

“The killer was never found. The investigation technology wasn’t as advanced back then, and there were no surveillance cameras in the area where the fire started. Everyone denied setting it, so…” Ewan shook his head. 

I sensed he was keeping back some details, but I chose not to push for more. After all, Ewan wasn’t present at the scene. 

As I looked at Howard in the photo, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more about the 

fire. 

But what puzzled me was why the serial killer was targeting people from the orphanage. 

It appeared that no one in that photo was safe from him now. 

“Can I take this photo with me?” I asked. 

“These are all preserved by Mr. Andy Lincoln. If you need it, I’ll have a new copy printed for 

Chapter 138 

you,” Ewan offered. 

I nodded. 

All the girls in red dresses in the photo had passed away, except for Yasmin. 

The killer was targeting the remaining ones. 

“Is that the orphanage director?” I pointed to the middle–aged woman seated in the center. 

“She and her husband ran the orphanage,” Ewan confirmed. 

An inexplicable chill crept in when I saw the couple in the photo. 

Despite their charitable smiles, I couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling. 

“Are they still alive?” I asked curiously. 

“They are, but their daughter passed away not long ago,” Evan said. 

I looked up at Ewan in shock. Their daughter was dead.