She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 819

Wearing a silk robe, Tanur lay flat on his back in the center of his massive four-poster bed. A gaping, bloody hole right over his heart pumped crimson fluid across the expensive silk sheets. His eyes were wide open, locked in a frozen state of absolute disbelief.

Standing barefoot next to the bed in her white nightgown was Luna. Clutched tightly in her hands was a very familiar silver handgun, a wisp of smoke still curling from the barrel.

Her face was as white as a sheet. Her eyes were completely hollow, and her body shook violently like a leaf in the wind.

"Luna! What the hell did you do?!" Yale screamed in sheer horror.

Yale's roar finally snapped Luna out of the low-frequency static and mental fog.

An inhuman, agonizing shriek ripped from her throat as she violently hurled the gun across the room!

"No—! It wasn't me! It wasn't me! I just killed Loyce! I just killed Loyce!"

She grabbed her head with both hands, digging her nails so deeply into her scalp she almost drew blood. She screamed hysterically, her eyes swirling with pure madness. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me!"

The silver handgun hit the expensive rug with a heavy thud, rolled a few times, and came to a stop just inches from Yale's feet.

Footsteps thundered down the hall. Tanur's personal bodyguards and the head of security burst into the room. Seeing the bloodbath, they froze in shock.

"Boss!!"

"Get a medic! Now!"

"Lock down the room! Luna!" The head of security lunged forward and grabbed the hysterical girl. Seeing her locked in a state of sheer panic, he immediately sent for the psychiatrist.

The room descended into absolute chaos. The private doctor and psychiatrist practically crawled into the room. One sprinted to the bed to perform emergency CPR, while the other desperately tried to assess Luna.

With the psychiatrist's help, Luna slowly began to calm down. She looked shakily toward the bed, staring at the massive pool of red soaking the sheets and dripping onto the floor.

The doctor working on Tanur slowed his compressions. Looking at the core executives who had rushed into the room, he shook his head, his face completely ashen.

Tanur, the ruthless warlord of a global arms empire, had died in the most absurd way imaginable—murdered in his own bed.

"Daddy! My Daddy!" Unable to process it, Luna broke down into agonizing sobs.

The psychiatrist rubbed her back, asking softly, "What happened? Who killed Mr. Ares?"

To everyone in this room, the spoiled, arrogant Luna was the apple of Tanur's eye. Their father-daughter relationship was famously strong. Almost no one suspected her.

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