Global Film Emperor

Chapter 539 Atonement (End) - Part 2

Some officers at the police station recognized him, after all, he had a son who had committed numerous evils and died a violent death, and they had even had a brief exchange at the funeral. When the old man rushed over in the middle of the night, there was a hint of pity in his eyes. Perhaps for him, if his descendants were like this, he would die of heartbreak. But he never expected that the source of evil was indeed this seemingly polite Asian old man.

"Can I meet her?"

"We're still in the interrogation stage, and according to regulations, I can't let you see her right now. The police called you because, as her guardian, you need to come and sign some paperwork and bring her some daily necessities. Have you brought everything?"

Bonnie looked terrible, his ashen face showing a hint of blue. The officer, concerned for his health, got up to pour him a glass of water. But just as he put the glass down, a rough, wrinkled hand grabbed his wrist, pleading once again for permission to see Sarah.

"Let me see her one last time. Perhaps soon I won't be able to come anymore..."

What do you mean by that?

The officer had a bad feeling about him. He had intended to put down his glass of water and leave him alone, but upon hearing this, he sat down next to Bonnie, took a medical record, glanced at it briefly, and couldn't help but sigh.

The boy still believed in a miracle cure that could bring the dead back to life, and the doctor would always try to comfort the family with words, saying that there was still a chance he could be saved. But as a middle-aged man, he could see through all the theoretical possibilities, see through the truth, and face the truth that an old man was about to die.

After a moment's thought, the officer nodded, reassuring Bonnie, and replied, "Let me check with my superiors. There shouldn't be any problem."

Considering that Sarah's actions weren't serious, and the total amount of property reported by the car owners was less than a thousand dollars, it's just that these two kids were too brazen, stealing several cars, or even more, in just a few days. However, none of the car owners have reported it to the police yet, probably because the amount was too small and the owners didn't even realize their cars had been stolen. They don't have any major criminal records, and they are all minors under the age of fourteen. It's reasonable for their guardians to want to visit them before the interrogation. For juvenile delinquents like this, the police officers have no reason to stop them. Perhaps dealing with a stubborn kid, the presence of their parents might actually be a favorable condition for breaking through their mental block.

Soon, the person in charge of the case granted Bonnie's visitation request, but required at least two police officers to accompany her to prevent any incidents of adults instigating children to give false testimonies.

Sarah was not transferred away and remained in custody at the police station. Accompanied by two police officers, Sarah walked out with her head down and met Bonnie in the interrogation room.

Bonnie didn't speak, but clenched her fists tightly, her face so dark it looked like it could freeze water. Sarah lowered her head, also silent, burying her face in her clothes and sobbing.

At this moment, her emotions were somewhat complicated. She felt guilty, sad, and resentful... perhaps even a little bit, but she felt no regret, even though she didn't have the face to face Bonnie, who wholeheartedly hoped that she would turn to good.

"That kid instigated you?"

She didn't speak or show her face; she simply shook her head.

"Why did you do this? Are you short of money? Why didn't you ask me? Why did you have to steal it!"

His face was extremely pale, a stark contrast to the white walls of the interrogation room. When he became agitated, he couldn't help but cough, and it was difficult to stop. The officer stepped forward and gently patted the old man's back. When Bonnie looked up again, he finally met Sarah's gaze, who was no longer hiding. Her red and swollen eyes revealed deep concern, which made Bonnie begin to have some doubts. Perhaps Sarah really knew something.

He covered his mouth with a handkerchief he had washed a thousand times. When the coughing stopped, beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. He wanted to scold Sarah to bring this child, whose mind was a mystery, to her senses, but the words wouldn't come out, as if his throat was glued shut.

He reached out and touched Sarah's head. Her hair was still so beautiful, smooth and shiny, just like... the woman's hair back then was also so soft and beautiful, making him reluctant to put his hand down.

"I'll get you out of here, but... don't associate with that kid anymore."

His aggressive words softened; he couldn't bear to hurt this frightened child with words any longer. He wanted to protect Sarah, a belief he had held firm when he first met her, no matter the cost.

"No! That's your retirement money!"

Suddenly, Sarah became agitated, and another policewoman stepped forward to restrain her, but did not end the conversation.

"It doesn't matter whether you take care of me in my old age or not. Even if I have to sell my house and car, I will still make sure you get out of here."

"If you really sell the house to bail me out, I'll kill myself right here, Bonnie!"

She didn't control her emotions and suddenly stood up, startling the policewoman. She forgot that her hands were still holding Sarah's clothes, and this caused Sarah's fair shoulders to be exposed.

But she didn't care. Instead, she stared straight at Bonnie, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and shouted at Bonnie. This put the policewoman in a dilemma. She glanced at the officer, hoping he could make a decision and end the visit. However, the officer simply shook his head slightly, and the policewoman didn't say anything more.

"What nonsense are you talking about!"

"I'm not talking nonsense! I really will die for you! Why are you trying to get me out? Wouldn't it be better to just let me stay here? This is the price I pay for stealing, I accept it!"

She became even more agitated, so the policewoman had no choice but to forcibly hold her in her arms, acting as a shackle to prevent her from taking any further extreme actions.

"Isn't that ridiculous? You want me to watch you stay in prison and wait to serve your sentence? You have no idea how terrible prison is! Sarah... you're my only family!"

"You're my only family! Do you really want me to watch you die in the street? Do you want me to never forget how much I owe you for the rest of my life?"

Bonnie was stunned. The intense physical pain could not outweigh the emotional anguish. He suddenly understood why Sarah would do such a foolish thing after he had repeatedly told her to be a good child. She... had a compelling reason to do it.

Suddenly, he lost all his strength, unable even to lift his hand. After a slight twitch in his facial muscles, tears welled up in his sallow eyes. His life began to rewind, showing him in his old age, destitute and impoverished; in his middle age, arrested and imprisoned; and in his youth, spirited and ruthless. It seemed as if he had never walked the right path in his life, heading towards darkness even amidst a sea of ​​light. At this moment, he suddenly thought that he might as well just die. If he died like this, or died sooner, it might be the last right decision he could make.

He was awakened when the girl rushed over and hugged Bonnie, when his wrinkled, aged skin touched his smooth skin and he felt the moisture and coolness from her skin.

"grandfather……"

"me……"

Bonnie opened her mouth, choking back sobs several times.

"Promise me, Grandpa, don't save me."

"I regret it... I really regret it."

Decades of regret still torment him day and night, but never before has it caused him such heart-wrenching pain. When was the last time he shed tears? Probably in the last century. He vaguely remembered it was a drizzly day. He was wearing a blue shearling suit, and he had probably drunk a bottle of tequila. He stumbled home, and the woman threw herself into his arms, telling him that she was pregnant with his child. Seeing the woman's happy yet cautious expression, he must have cried just as miserably as he does now.

The officers separated the two, as visiting hours had ended. He didn't want to watch this melodramatic scene, as if he were the villain who had done wrong. They led Sarah away, and before they parted, Sarah turned around, grasped Bonnie's hand, forced a smile, and uttered her last words.

"Grandpa, I'm sorry. Please take care of yourself and wait for me to come back."

……

He stood there in a daze outside the police station for an unknown amount of time, clutching the contact information given to him by a police officer, promising to call him for help if needed.

He got into the car in silence and wandered aimlessly through the streets. He had completely lost his purpose. He didn't dare to bail Sarah out, fearing that the stubborn girl would really threaten to kill herself. Besides, even if he sold his old house in the slums, it was unlikely to fetch a good price to bail Sarah out. This was a problem that the two of them had overlooked.

He drove through familiar places, trying to find evidence of his love and acquaintance with his wife. When he got tired, he would take a nap in the car and continue his journey when he woke up. In the afternoon, he bought a bouquet of flowers and went to the cemetery to visit his lover and child. The two people who were buried there had their emotions sealed by the soil, so no matter how much Bonnie said, he received no response. He did not return home until night fell.

He took the elevator to his floor and had just opened the door when he heard some noise. He frowned and looked at the two strange men standing at his door, both of them slovenly dressed young men from South America.

"Is there a problem?"

"Sir, is this your home?"

"Yes, what's the matter?"

Would you mind if I came in for a look around?

One of the young men opened his jacket and showed Bonnie the weapon tucked into his waistband. Bonnie was "frightened" and quickly waved her hands and took a few steps back.

"Is there some misunderstanding? I don't know you, and I haven't offended anyone."

"I don't want to waste time talking, open the door."

Under duress, Bonnie reluctantly opened the door, letting the two young men search the house and make a mess of it. They still didn't seem to find their target. They simply took the backpack hidden in the closet in Sarah's room, stuffed all the money inside into their pockets, and then took out a few pairs of her underwear and stuffed them into their clothes.

Do you know where your granddaughter often goes to play?

“My granddaughter is not home. She has been arrested and may go to jail.”

"I know, I'm asking about the places your granddaughter often goes to play. I'll give you a few minutes to think it over, otherwise your life might be in danger, understand?"

Their threats were undisguised; if Bonnie hadn't been so old and still worth questioning, they would have beaten her up first before dragging her away for torture.

Clearly, their threat worked. Bonnie was sweating profusely and, after a moment of careful thought, answered confidently, "She often goes to the school area; she has a friend who lives there."

The two men exchanged a glance and said, "Take us there."

Bonnie dared not argue, so she took the two men downstairs and let him drive to their destination. The two men sat separately, one in the passenger seat and the other in the back, constantly monitoring Bonnie's every move and observing the road conditions to ensure that he would not drive the car to the police station.

It was nighttime, and there weren't many cars on the road. The car quickly arrived near Sarah's school. Bonnie acted very naturally along the way, which made the two of them lower their guard a little, until the car drove around the slums for a long time and then into a wasteland.

"Where exactly is that family...?"

"boom!"

Before the man in the passenger seat could speak, a gunshot rang out, and the car was instantly illuminated as if it were daytime. In the brief flash of light, the man in the passenger seat could see the face of Bonnie, the old Asian man. He was neither ferocious nor ruthless, but calm as if he had just killed a troublesome chicken.

The bullet entered with pinpoint accuracy from the left corner of the eye, simultaneously shattering the man's nose in the back seat. Its powerful force effortlessly penetrated the man's brain, shards of brain tissue spraying from the back of his head and onto the rear window. The bullet didn't stop there, shattering the window and leaving only a large network of shredded fragments. It then flew a short distance outside the car, seemingly striking a broken lamppost with a sharp clang. Only then did the man, as if drunk, sway twice before collapsing sideways in the back seat, falling into a permanent sleep.

"What are you going to do?"

"You've already asked a lot of questions, now... I'll ask, and you answer."

Naturally, the man wouldn't be careless when committing such a coercive act. Before getting into the car, he had roughly checked all the storage compartments to ensure there were no guns inside. Of course, Bonnie had also been searched, but still found nothing. The two thought they had searched thoroughly, so they became complacent. This was understandable, since most modern cars don't have dedicated gun storage compartments like the old car he was driving. They were just too young and inexperienced. After killing the man in the back seat, the barrel of the gun was pressed directly against the chin of the man in the passenger seat. The barrel, still slightly hot from the gunpowder, burned against the man's skin, making him acutely aware that this was not a dream.

So he raised his hands and surrendered.

"Sure, ask away, just don't shoot, I'll tell you everything."

"What exactly did my granddaughter take from you?"

“Thirty catties of leaves, that’s worth over four hundred thousand yuan. We have no reason not to take it, sir. I’ll take the goods and leave. Once I’m gone, I’ll pretend I know nothing. I’ve lost my memory.”

"Second question, which police officer told you that besides you, who else knows that my granddaughter took the goods?"

“Bianchi, Benjamin Bianchi, not many people know about this, and the goods are not from a legitimate source. Apart from the two of us, only our boss Romano is known in the slums in the east of the city.”

"boom."

He fired without hesitation, but moved the muzzle from his chin to his forehead to avoid blood splattering onto the roof and reflecting off him. Even so, there were still some bloodstains on his body, but fortunately, he was wearing a dark coat, so they were not noticeable in the darkness.

He fastened the seatbelts to the two corpses, packed up everything they had taken from his home, and drove off along the edge of the slums, following his memory, to a secluded bend in the river. He put the car in first gear, got out, and watched as it slowly drove to the embankment, plunged into the river, and after about two minutes of bobbing, slowly sank to the bottom.

The journey back to the slum would take an average person nearly thirty minutes, but it took him at least an hour longer. By the time he saw the lights, he was completely exhausted. He rested on a bench by the roadside for a long time before continuing. By the time he got home, it was already dawn. After taking his medicine, he simply heated up two pancakes, ate them, and then lay down on the bed to catch up on his sleep.

After waking up, he carefully cleaned the room, moved the TV cabinet, and found that the TV wall was originally a load-bearing wall of the entire house. Years ago, he had carved out a hole in it to store some things that couldn't be seen by others. He usually covered it with bricks and tiles. As he gently tapped the tiles with his fist, the grout gradually cracked. He dug the tiles open with a dagger, and the bricks were also taken out. He knelt on the ground and took out a sawed shotgun wrapped in kraft paper, which was only the length of his forearm. After examining it carefully, he put it aside. He then took out an envelope from the hole. Inside was the passport and ID that his boss had given him when he went to the United States. He had used this identity to serve his sentence, which allowed him to clear his name as Bonnie Rossi and return to Italy smoothly.

He replaced his old ID card with a US ID, glanced down at the old one, which was yellowed from its age, rubbed his fingers against the document that once held all his hopes, and finally lit the gas and threw it into the stove.

He put on a fake mustache, used Sarah's whitening cream to whiten his skin, and lightly brushed foundation on the bridge of his nose, making it look more three-dimensional under the light and shadow.

With everything ready, he tucked the shotgun into his trench coat, put on his top hat, and strolled out of the room that held all his fondest memories.

At the post office, he mailed a letter, went to the store and bought a pack of cigarettes. He hadn't smoked them for decades. He lit one; it wasn't as strong as the cigarettes of yesteryear, but it was still quite potent for him. He coughed a few times, barely getting used to the feeling of nicotine swirling in his lungs. He walked over, pushed open the door, went into the phone booth, took out a piece of paper, and made a call.

"Which one?"

"I'm not going to make it."

"Bonnie? Can you still hold on?"

"I want to ask you one last thing..."

"You said."

"I have some things that you need to give to Sarah. I'm too exhausted. Could you please come and get them?"

"Um... okay, do you need me to come to your house now?"

“I’ve already put that house on the market. I’ve moved. Let me tell you my current address; I live here…”

"Okay, I'll get there as soon as possible. Hold on, Bonnie."

"Okay, thank you, Bianchi..."

After hanging up the phone, he walked out of the phone booth and suddenly noticed that it was drizzling outside. After walking for more than ten minutes, he entered a hotel he had booked the night before. He brushed the water droplets off his trench coat, gently pressed down his top hat, bowed to the hotel owner, and then quickly returned to his room. He closed the door, took out his shotgun, quietly loaded the bullets, and lay down on the bed to rest.

It was already sunset when he went out, and about an hour later, when it was completely dark, someone knocked on the door. He didn't get up immediately, but asked in a weak voice, "Who is it?"

"Bianchi asked me to pick up something; he can't leave tonight because he's working overtime."

"Please wait a moment, thank you."

He got up slowly, deliberately making a slurring sound as he rubbed his feet on the floor. Carrying his shotgun, he approached the door, coughed a few times, and then opened it.

A middle-aged man with slicked-back hair stood at the door, wearing a trendy jacket and a tattoo peeking out from his neck. When the door opened, he looked somewhat impatient. As he saw a glimmer of light behind the door, he also saw a black gun barrel protruding from the doorway.

"boom!"

Contrary to what's depicted in movies, shotguns don't spew out nearly a meter-long tongue of fire. In reality, buckshot fires barely produce sparks; just a plume of smoke before the person is already lying on their back. Clearly, they came prepared. Their inability to contact their men last night had heightened their vigilance. Unfortunately, the old man they thought was near death was still full of energy and had killed one of them. While the remaining two were still in shock, he had already extended his gun barrel, quickly aimed at them, and fired.

When the second person was shot, the last survivor tried to draw his gun to fight back, since his hand had already reached for his lower back when he knocked on the door. Unfortunately, he was a beat too slow. By the time the gun was pulled from his waist, Bonnie's next bullet had already hit him, splattering a large amount of blood on the wall. He could only fire one shot at random before lying on the ground without making a sound.

Three shots, quick and accurate, killed two people instantly. The third was lying on the ground, barely breathing. Bonnie himself was also injured. After all, in a close-quarters firefight of less than two meters, it was difficult for the enemy to retaliate without hitting someone. The shot hit his right side, but fortunately, it didn't damage any organs. He quickly tied the bathrobe he had prepared around his waist. He searched the pockets of the three men, took out their wallets, and glanced at them. The second man was named Fabio Romano. Combining this with his impression of the rumored Camorra leader, he confirmed his target, chuckled, threw the wallet back at him, and quickly went downstairs.

The gunfight made everyone aware of the danger, and no one dared to peek out to see what was happening. He successfully left the hotel unseen and drove to the police station in a rented car.

The police station was in the center of the pedestrian street, which was U-shaped. The police station was sandwiched between two rows of commercial buildings. The back door of the police station led to a back street where police cars and officers' private cars were all parked. He found a spot to park, turned off all the lights in his car, lit a cigarette, and waited quietly for Bianchi to appear.

Bianchi quickly realized something was wrong. He learned that a gunfight had just taken place at the address he'd given Romano. He realized his mistake: he'd trusted a dying old man too much, but this old man had a Mafia son! What kind of good person could he be? After checking Bonnie's records, he found no criminal record, which puzzled him and made him uneasy. He needed to immediately head to Bonnie's previous address to see if he had left any trace.

Without notifying anyone, he hesitated for a moment, then took a pistol. It was still raining outside, so he walked out the back door with an umbrella and headed towards his car. There was hardly anyone on the back street at this time, which made him feel even more uneasy. He quickened his pace and gradually went from walking to running.

Once in the car, his anxiety subsided slightly, and he felt a sense of security. He started the vehicle and released the handbrake when he suddenly heard someone knocking on the passenger window. He instinctively turned around and saw a bolt of lightning tracing a serpent across the sky, illuminating the outside. An old man wearing a top hat and sporting a mustache was facing him with a strange smile, followed by a revolver pressed against the glass.

Reflexively, he reached for his gun, but he wasn't a rapid-fire shooter. Bonnie's pistol spat fire first, the first bullet striking his right scapula. Only then did he realize how fragile the bones that supported the human body were; with a thud, the bullet shattered in two inside his body. The bullet even pierced through the seat, bringing out a wad of cotton. The second shot hit his arm, penetrating bone and muscle before entering his abdominal cavity. The spinning bullet ripped through his intestines, then struck the door. The third shot pierced his brain, entering about four or five centimeters above his right ear and exiting from the same spot on his left, shattering the glass and leaving a clear bullet mark on the car next to him. He instantly lost consciousness, his head hitting the glass with a soft thud. After a few convulsions, he breathed his last. All of this was completely drowned out by the thunder that followed the lightning.

Bonnie put away his gun, drove off, tore off his beard and threw it into the bushes, then kicked off his shoes, which were three sizes too big, and threw them into the river. His face was pale and horribly unwell, which explains why Bianchi was startled.

Bonnie lifted his shirt and glanced at the wound. The wound, which wasn't fatal, was still slowly bleeding. If he were younger, he probably would have stopped the bleeding long ago, but now he couldn't control it at all. He wasn't surprised, after all, his illness included symptoms of blood clotting disorders. If he didn't go to the hospital now, he really would die. But death wasn't scary to him at all. After all, he had done what he could and should have done, and he would have no regrets if he died now.

Romano's goods were illicitly obtained. If the goods, worth over 400,000, were from legitimate sources, a small-time boss in the slums simply couldn't afford them. According to Bonnie's speculation, he most likely obtained the goods from other members of the gang through deception, robbery, or even double-crossing. Such things were commonplace, even in the Camorra decades ago, let alone in today's modern violent gang with its complex membership, diverse ethnicities, and disorganized, self-serving structure.

He would never make a fuss or announce that he lost a shipment unless he really wanted to die. And Bonnie wouldn't worry at all about causing Sarah any trouble by killing someone like that. When Andrew was shot, did anyone stand up for him and seek revenge? No one. To put it bluntly, they were just peripheral members, small gangs that had been incorporated into the Camorra. Their deaths wouldn't attract anyone's attention, just like how few gang members came to see Andrew off on the day of his burial. He was dead, so he was dead. He could just die quietly like a stray dog. Anyway, someone equally ambitious would take his place.

Bianchi's death is more troublesome. The police will definitely investigate. Even though Bianchi did not report the incident to his superiors but instead privately notified Romano to search for the lost goods, he is still dead. Through various details, including phone records, conversations between colleagues, and even his diary, Bonnie's identity may be exposed.

But what could they possibly find out about an elderly man who disappeared for decades and then suddenly reappeared with no criminal record? Even if they compared his entry records with customs records and contacted the US police to find out his true identity, what good would it do? Arrest him, a dead man?
Since no one knows where this shipment came from, no one will know why they died. This is likely a case that the local police will be unable to solve in the short term. Even if the police do find out the truth, what can they do to a child who knows nothing about it? As long as the package that doesn't belong to Sarah is handed over, at least Sarah is safe. He has completely eliminated any future troubles for her. When she gets out, she can live a normal life.

It was worth it to trade my remaining lifespan for her chance to live as an ordinary child.

As he lost more and more blood, he felt cold and his vision began to blur. He drove the car into the woods, creating the illusion that he was escaping into the mountains. A heavy stone was tied to the strip of cloth from his hemostatic bathrobe. He returned to the bridge, panting heavily.

It was late at night. He lit a cigarette and quietly smoked it in the rain. He took out a photo from his pocket, and looking at Sarah's radiant smile in the picture, he smiled with satisfaction. He gently rubbed his fingers against the smiling face a few times, then carefully put it back into the lining of his trench coat. He flicked the cigarette butt away, looked around to make sure there were no passing cars, climbed onto the guardrail, and murmured softly.

"Can you forgive me? I apologize and atone for my sins. I'm sorry I didn't take good care of Sarah, but this is all I could do. Please forgive me, forgive Daddy..."

His thinking became increasingly rigid, and the feeling of his brain being frozen gave him a premonition of impending death. He seemed to hear something, and a smile gradually appeared on his face in the drizzle as he leaned forward...

jumped down.

……

"Sarah, there's a letter for you."

After hearing the shouts, Sarah, dressed in prison clothes, approached the bars. A guard handed her a letter. Compared to the other children in the cell, she was much more excited about the letter. Ignoring the other children's teasing, she got into bed, sat cross-legged, and carefully opened the letter. But before she even saw the contents, just the sender's name, she was already in tears.

“Sarah, I’m sorry I didn’t raise enough money for your bail, so you’ll have to live in there for now. As for the sentence, I hope you can cooperate with your lawyer and make the right decision based on the options he gives you. Getting out sooner is better than getting out later. Also, I didn’t sell the house; I’m leaving it to you. It holds traces of your life, and I couldn’t bear to sell it after much consideration. Even though I really don’t want you to go back to that dirty and chaotic living environment, if you’re really desperate, then go back. With welfare and subsidies, at least you won’t have to worry about food and clothing.”

"I hope you won't neglect your studies. If possible, go back to school, but don't go back to that lousy school. If you don't know what to do, go to the shelter for help. They will definitely help you. I hope you can go to university, find a stable job, and never go down this path again. I believe you now understand how difficult it is inside, so after you get out, you have to say goodbye to the past. Except for that kid, you can decide his own fate. Perhaps I have some misunderstandings and prejudices about him, and I'm sorry, but that doesn't stop me from disliking him."

"If you have the financial means in the future, I hope you can go out and travel. Don't just listen to others' stories about the outside world. See it for yourself, experience it firsthand. Go to the United States, go to China, go to the places farthest from you, love those places that are far away from you, and be a happy person."

"As for me, you don't need to worry about me. I admit I'm ill, but I won't die anytime soon. When I finally die, I'll let you know to attend my funeral. But for now, I'm leaving."

“I admit you’re right. I do have a woman and a child outside. I’ve reconnected with them and I’m going to live with them far away. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a happy family or Andrew a happy family. Your lives have been ruined because of me. I don’t ask for your forgiveness, but I would be happier if you didn’t hate me that much.”

"I regret that I haven't been able to tell you 'I love you' in person after spending so much time with you. But if you're willing to go and continue watching, then listen to my truest feelings. My child, I love you, and I hope you grow up safely. We will meet again."

“In the future.”

“Your grandfather, Bonnie W. Rossi.”

……

(The End)

"..."

Long time no see

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(End of this chapter)