Chapter 431

After figuring out where the fourth diary came from, Paxton felt totally lost. To him, these so-called family members were just like parasites, no real family bond at all.

"Since you didn't die in the fire, I'll finish what you started," Paxton muttered, tying up his lying subordinate and soaking him in gasoline. He struck a match. The poor guy's screams echoed as the flames lit up Paxton's face, the heat doing nothing to melt the ice in his eyes.

Now, Paxton had three more diaries. He could only hope the truth was in one of them. He needed to know which one was the real deal.

To figure out if the diaries were legit, besides Joe, maybe only Francis could help.

Since Paxton's goons caught him, Francis had been locked up. They hadn't beaten him or anything because he gave them some important clues. But Francis was always a bit scared because he had made up all the stuff in the diaries. He didn't even know if such a diary existed.

The only thing Francis did right was that his confession helped some people escape the country illegally without getting caught by Paxton's men. The survivors were grateful to Francis, the unlucky guy. As for those who died, they were probably cursing Paxton and wondering why Francis didn't speak up sooner.

Francis was tied up, with a rope around his neck to keep him from escaping.

Even though he was treated like a tied-up stray dog, at least they fed him every day. It was just fast food, but hey, he was still alive.

One day, Francis got a sandwich. He had just unwrapped it and was about to take a bite when he heard hurried footsteps outside.

He froze. The next moment, the door burst open, and a bunch of guys rushed in, untying the rope around his neck.

"What are you doing? Are you letting me go?" Francis asked, his voice full of hope.

"Mr. Brown wants to see you. Whether you live or die depends on him," one of the guys said with a cold, grim smile.

Francis suddenly felt his legs go weak, almost collapsing. They had to drag him out of the room.

Francis wasn't stupid. He knew Paxton wanting to see him out of the blue was bad news. Most likely, his lies had been found out.

"I'm not going. I don't want to see Paxton. I'm fine staying here. I'm scared to see him. I don't want to go," Francis cried, clinging to the doorframe, refusing to leave.

The thugs pulled and yanked at him, but he wouldn't budge. One of them kicked his arm hard, the pain making him let go.

"If you don't come with us, you'll die right here," one thug threatened, his voice menacing.

Francis turned pale with fear and shut up.

They shoved him into a car. As it bumped along the road, he closed his eyes in despair, silently counting down the moments of his life.

Francis had no clue how many turns the car took or how far they had gone. He was barely conscious, slumped weakly against the seat.

It wasn't death that scared him the most; it was knowing he was about to die.

The car finally stopped at a steel mill.

The door opened, and Francis was yanked out.

Since he could barely walk, two thugs grabbed his arms and dragged him inside.

The machines in the steel mill were roaring, and the heat was intense. One furnace was blazing, molten steel flowing inside.

Paxton stood in front of the furnace, his back to Francis, lost in thought.

Francis was thrown to the ground behind him.

He looked up nervously at Paxton's back.

Paxton turned around, his face calm and unreadable.

"I heard you didn't want to see me. Why?" Paxton asked, his voice steady.

Francis shook his head frantically. "No, that's not it. I just... I just feel nervous."

Seeing the coldness in Paxton's eyes grow, Francis shrank back in fear.

Paxton didn't ask any more questions. He turned to his subordinate and waved his hand. Four diaries were tossed in front of Francis.

Francis stared at the diaries, stunned.

Paxton looked down at him. "I've found the diaries you mentioned, but I don't know which one is real. Now, tell me which one is true!"

Francis trembled. The diaries were just lies he had made up to buy time. He never thought there would be actual diaries.

Seeing Francis hesitate, Paxton snapped, "I don't have time for this. Tell me which one is real!"

Swallowing hard, Francis, with shaking hands, opened one of the diaries.

'Thank God I remember Zane's handwriting. If it matches, I should know which one is real,' Francis thought, feeling a glimmer of hope.

As he flipped through the first diary, a spark of excitement flashed in his eyes; the handwriting was almost identical to Zane's.

Paxton noticed and pointed to the other three diaries. "Are you sure it's this one? What about the others?"

Francis hesitated, then started to look through the other diaries. Sweat dripped from his forehead; the handwriting in the other diaries was almost the same. It seemed like all the diaries had Zane's handwriting.

'Why is all the handwriting the same? Did Zane write diaries for four years? No, the dates are the same too. Could three of them be fake?' Francis's mind raced.

In reality, even without the love poems provided by Joe, Michael and the others could have found Zane's handwriting with a bit of effort. John, Bianca, the masterminds behind the scenes, and the members of the Brown Family had all figured it out this way.

"Which one is it?" Paxton demanded coldly.

'Damn it, I'll just pick one. Paxton won't know the truth anyway,' Francis thought, choosing one of the diaries.