She Became Rich After Divorce by Georgina Lane

Chapter 363: Between the Cold of the Dead and Snowflakes The woman seemed to sense the scrutinizing gaze at the door, and she raised her knife, suddenly turning her head to look. Her breathtakingly fair face was splattered with crimson droplets, and she grinned, revealing teeth whiter than snowflakes.

Her voice was delicate and lingering, much like the melody of 'The Thirteenth Eye' she had played that morning. 'Kelvin, you're back. Come, take a look at my new creation.' With that, her blood-stained hands lifted her skirt on one side, while the other held a blood-stained blade, and she walked towards him, her slender feet stepping on the ground covered in spilled paint and gruesbloodstains.

The little boy was drenched in cold sweat, and his small hand instinctively gripped the door fras he attempted to flee, but his feet felt as heavy as mercury.

Was she going to kill him, just like she had killed that person? In his haste to turn around, he accidentally bumped into the wall and blacked out.

Kelvin woke up once again, abruptly awakened by the cold. He slowly opened his eyes to a blinding whiteness; the snow had lessened since yesterday.

It floated down.

Suddenly, an icy hand covered his cheek. The woman was dressed in a long white pearl chiffon dress, her raven hair cascading down her back, blending with the silvery world around her.

She looked as stunning as a sacred goddess emerging from the ice and snow, captivating anyone who beheld her.

'Mom... Mommy, did you...' He didn't dare utter the words 'kill someone,' but the woman's gaze, shimmering and mysterious, made him feel a chill down his spine. She seemed even gentler than usual. 'Kelvin, can you do Mommy a favor?' 'W-What?' As he looked at the woman's tender yet eerie smile, Kelvin couldn't help but shiver, but he was already out of tto refuse.

The woman approached with a basin of blood, her hands immersed in the crimson pool, the vivid red contrasting with the emerald green jade bracelet on her wrist, creating a striking contrast. Then, she smeared her own blood bit by bit onto the little boy's delicate face, his naked body, and his back. The air seemed to be filled with the nauseating smell of blood, and this was the first tKelvin had ever cried in his memory. He struggled to get off the bed.

With a startled movement, he noticed a round object rolling down onto the snowy ground - a skull dyed deep blue, its teeth stained red. Those empty eye sockets stared right at him.

'Mommy, no! Please... don't do this, I'm so scared.' 'Mommy!' Seeming irritated by his lack of cooperation, the woman raised her hand and delivered a sharp slap, the crisp sound echoing in the room.

His face bore a sudden, blood-red palm print, and the woman's sharp nails dug into his skin as she spoke with an icy tone, 'You don't even wantto becthe greatest artist in the whole world, do you?' 'No, Mommy... It's not like that. I'm so cold. Please letput on sclothes,' Kelvin stuttered, shivering as he struggled to sit up.

But he was quickly forced back onto the dining table by the woman. Her exquisitely beautiful face turned cold and sinister, and she produced two organ-like pieces that resembled intestines from somewhere... She used them to bind the boy's hands and wrapped them around his neck.

As he lay there on the snowy-white tablecloth like a sacrificial lamb, the woman arranged black calla lilies around him.

Muttering to herself, she chanted, 'Hell! When the hell suddenly changes, and the ghosts howl in the night, how could there be no child?' 'Yes, legend has it that mother and child zombies feast on hearts, and I've finally found it!' After her sudden realization, she laughed manically and ran into the mansion.

Soon, she returned with the lifeless corpse, a woman who appeared to be around thirty, with a pale complexion. Her two empty eyes stared fixedly ahead, tears of terror streaming down her face. She was dressed in a red floral silk dress that Gracie had hastily retrieved from the wardrobe, showcasing her slender figure.

She placed the corpse in a chair by the table and picked up Kelvin, stuffing him into the cold embrace of the lifeless woman.

'Mommy! No, please... Help! Help! I don't want her, Mommy!' 'She's so scary, I hate you! Gracie, you're not worthy...' 'Rachel, Grandpa... Save me, save me... Boohoo...' Even if he was precocious, he was still just a seven-year-old, in his first year of elementary school. Faced with the dead, it was natural for him to be terrified and burst into tears.

But the people in the mansion seemed as if they hadn't heard his cries.

The woman, in particular, paid no heed.

She chuckled and touched Kelvin's little face, finding him too noisy. She grabbed sfresh organs from the plate and shoved them into his mouth.

The crimson blood 'drip-dropped' onto the snow beneath his feet, staining the pristine white with pink.

The young boy was in tears, the foul taste in his mouth making him nauseous. The cold on his body couldn't compare to the despair in his heart.

The woman, on the other hand, sat seriously in the yard, not far from him, fully committed to her grand mission. One of the scenes from her acclaimed work, 'HELL,' was completed on this chilly winter day.

Old Mr. Foley couldn't hold back his tears and his eyes turned red. He choked up and wiped away his tears with his sleeve.

'Kelvin's mother was already suffering from a severe mental illness at the time. She abandoned her child in the yard just to pursue her art. It was a bitterly cold day, with temperatures well below freezing. When I found him, he couldn't even speak, just trembling uncontrollably.' 'Later, I rushed him to the hospital. The doctors said that if I had been two minutes later, the child wouldn't have made it. Even now, every winter, Kelvin's legs ache.'

Cheyenne unconsciously clenched her fists, her face filled with astonishment. So, Kelvin's mother was the great/author of 'HELL' – Gracie. She had admired Gracie before, never imagining that she could be so deranged as to use her own child as a prop. It was hard to imagine that Kelvin, at the tender age of seven, had been caught between the chilling embrace of the dead and the falling snowflakes, likely scarred by that experience.

She had always thought that Kelvin's leg pain during the winter was due to work-related fatigue, frequent business trips, or sother minor ailment. Little did she know that it was a result of frostbite from that traumatic incident.

Old Mr. Foley saw the anger brewing in her eyes and continued, sensing an opportunity, 'Since that day, Kelvin has been living with me. He vowed never to pick up a paintbrush again, but I never thought that after all these years, I would see him pick it up once more.'

'To be honest, he has quite a talent. He was already drawing at the age of three. Gracie, that woman, evenm thought about grooming him into a painter. I didn't see any profit in that, and he is the eldest grandson of the Foley family, so naturally, he had to be in business.' Kelvin's talent was indeed impressive, as Cheyenne had already gathered from his oil painting.

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