n’s face turned deathly pale in an instant.
He widened his eyes, as if the world had been put on pause.
Looking at that familiar face, his eyes were filled with disbelief.
“Rene…” Valentina was also stunned for a moment, her voice full of incredulity.
Stellan snapped back to his senses and rushed forward instinctively.
“Wait!”
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“You are mistaken, this is my wie! She can’t be dead, she wouldn’t appear here! Let her down…”
Jack Hotch, one of the staff nearby, held him back tightly, not allowing him to move forward.
“The ceremony cannot be interrupted, or the soul of the deceased will be considered tainted by sin and unable to rest in peace!”
Valentina also came to her senses at this moment and hurriedly grabbed Stellan.
“Stellan, don’t panic, that probably isn’t Rene… Maybe it’s just someone who looks like her!”
“We should respect local customs and not disrupt someone else’s
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funeral…”
Stellan’s bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at the woman on the platform, and for a moment, he was dazed.
Could that bloodless face really be Irene’s?
“Wait, let me confirm…”
But once the funeral began, it could not be stopped. Jack continued to restrain him, not letting him make any rash moves.
He could only watch helplessly as the funeral caretakers lit the incense to attract the flock of vultures.
Then they dismembered the body, crushed it, mixed it with bannock, and scattered it on the platfou
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The vultures and birds circling in the sky immediately swooped down and began to feed.
The funeral masters formed a circle, lowered their eyes, closed them, and softly recited the Bible.
The scent filled the nose, the chanting entered the ears, as if they were in the most devout place on earth.
Yet in such a sacred scene, the vultures and birds fiercely devoured raw flesh, life dissipating until nothing remained but smoke.
The fragmented scene and cruel contrast gave Stellan a sense of disorientation.
He stared blankly at the scene before him, unable to utter a word for a
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long time.
Not until the body on the platform was completely consumed by the vultures.
He still had not reacted.
For a moment, he could not even tell whether this was reality or illusion.
Had a funeral really just taken place here? Had someone really lain there?
Was that person… really Irene?
He only felt a heaviness in his chest, as if everything around him was covered by a hazy film.
He did not even notice when Valentina, frightened, slipped away to
the side and vomited in secret.
It was not until the ceremony ended that the person in charge came over and said, “These are the steps of the funeral ceremony. The local people believe that only in this way can one return to nature and achieve the eternity of reincarnation and spirit.”
“It may be hard for you to understand, but that’s all right. You can take your time to decide whether you want to continue with the
reservation.”
Valentina was so frightened that her face was ashen, tears welling in her eyes as she said, “It’s too terrifying…”
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As she spoke, she glanced cautiously at Stellan, a trace of barely noticeable hope in her tone.
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“Stellan, do you think… could that body just now really have been Rene?”
“If not, then the resemblance is just too much…”
Stellan paid her no attention at all. Instead, as he passed the hall where the portrait and urn were displayed, he turned and walked in again.
He still remembered the portrait that had shaken him to his core, yet he had ignored it.
He wanted to take a good look at this portrait.
The funeral ceremony had been too brief, too shocking, and he could not confirm whether the deceased was truly Irene.
Now, looking at the portrait, he still hesitated to recognize it.
The person in the painting smiled so brightly, sunlight spilling across her face as if gilding her in gold.
Radiant, passionate, uninhibited, confident.
It seemed that any beautiful word would not be an exaggeration to describe her.
How could this possibly be Irene?
In the years since their marriage, she had become more and more hysterical, her face twisted with madness.
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When they went to Alaska, she had calmed down, but there was no light in her eyes.
No matter what kind of temperament, it seemed different from the person in the portrait…
Stellan tried to comfort himself this way, wanting to put his mind at ease and contact Irene again.
But in the next moment, he saw a familiar artist’s signature in the
corner.
Although it was in Tlingit language, which he could not understand, the
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.

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