Revenge After Death (Michael and Stephanie) novel Chapter 141

Chapter 141 

Ewan hesitated for a moment before finally agreeing. 

As we made our way to the asylum, my body trembled uncontrollably. 

I couldn’t understand why I felt so sad, but the image of that charred room remained 

etched in my mind. 

The fire, the thick smoke, and the desperate cries replayed vividly in my thoughts. 

When Steven and I shared a room, I immediately noticed the grotesque scars from the fire covering his entire back, as well as his hands and legs. 

He must have endured so much pain back then. 

“That asylum was later shut down, and the director was arrested because of reports of patient abuse,” Ewan said. 

During the journey, I looked up the asylum and came across numerous horrifying 

scandals. 

The doctors derived pleasure from tormenting and abusing the patients, subjecting them to electric shocks, drowning, suffocation, and torture. 

The darkest aspects of human nature were amplified within those walls. 

As I sat there, a sudden realization washed over me. “Apart from the director’s arrest and sudden death from a heart attack in prison, the other doctors, who weren’t 

convicted, seemed to have died one after another over the years,” I muttered. 

Were all these events truly a mere coincidence? 

“Somebody online suggested it’s payback for the lunatics at Saint Sahns Asylum,” I murmured, feeling inexplicably uneasy as I scrolled through the thread. 

If the deaths of those doctors wasn’t a coincidence, could they be connected to the serial killings at the orphanage too? 

My head suddenly throbbed, and I instinctively pulled at my hair, trying to keep myself composed. 

Perhaps they were accidents. Maybe it truly was all just coincidences. 

“I’ve always believed that the universe has a way of balancing things out,” Ewan said as 

Chapter 141 

he opened the car door for me after we arrived. 

I sensed he was hiding something, but there were certain matters I knew better than to pry about. 

The asylum had been sealed off, so we had to sneak in through the gates. 

It felt just as eerie as the orphanage, instantly unsettling me upon arrival. 

Recently, a popular livestreamer had explored this place, claiming it was haunted. 

“This was Mr. Lincoln’s room. The Lincolns specifically instructed it to be a single room for his comfort,” Evan said. 

But instead, it was like hell. 

I pushed open the door and froze in place for a moment. 

The walls were adorned with formulas and numbers, revealing his attempt to calculate something. 

The room was oddly clean. For a moment, I could almost picture a teenager in a white patient gown, diligently scribbling calculations on the wall with a pencil. 

I walked along the walls, gently tracing the numbers as I went. 

At last, at the end of the room, I saw that formula. He was using calculus to calculate pi, endlessly working out every digit after the decimal point. 

“What did he want to do?” I asked skeptically.