Chapter 8
With Edwin’s assistance, the police had fully gathered all evidence of Vincent’s crimes and excavated numerous bodies of underage girls from beneath his villa.
The courtroom played surveillance footage from Vincent’s office, showing him repeatedly sexually assaulting Ariana and even conducting illegal human experiments on minors in the pharmaceutical research laboratory.
After this evidence was exposed, a wave of public outcry demanding “severe punishment for workplace predators” swept across the internet, and relevant authorities began thoroughly investigating abuse of power within the pharmaceutical industry.
The red glow of police lights reflected in pools of blood as I bent down to pick up that yellowed family photo.
In the picture, I was smiling innocently, with Declan’s hand resting on my shoulder, palm upward, gentle yet firm.
The forensic report showed that Vincent died from a ruptured carotid artery, while Declan died from excessive blood loss despite resuscitation efforts.
They found several photo albums in the safe in his study, filled with pictures of me from childhood to adulthood. Behind each photo, written in pencil, were dates and the words “May Ashley
be safe.”
I flipped through them one by one, then carefully tucked them against my chest.
Declan left me two bank cards with a combined balance of twenty million dollars, enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life.
He also left a letter, its handwriting blurred by water stains.
“Ashley, if you’re reading this letter, it means I’ve become a
monster.
Please forgive me for touching you with the filthiest hands, forgive me for making you struggle to survive in pain. The truth is, I’m just a worthless father who couldn’t even protect his daughter. The day you were born, the nurse said you were clenching your fists and wouldn’t let go, as if afraid someone would take you away. That’s when I thought, even if I had to go to hell, I would keep you safe in my palm.
I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you what love looks like. But remember, you were never a mistake.
Declan’s final words”
The magnolia flowers outside bloomed again. I folded the letter into a paper boat and gently placed it in the stream.
Finally, following Declan’s dying wish, I made a trip to the prison.
The visiting room’s light was harsh and white. Monica wore prison clothes, her hair mostly gray now.
She looked haggard but not sad, as if she had long accepted her fate of life imprisonment.
“I’m sorry,” I pressed against the glass, my forehead against the cold barrier. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Monica shook her head gently, a relieved smile appearing at the corner of her mouth, as if she had foreseen all of this. “You need to live well, Ashley.”
She suddenly gripped the iron bars. “After you get out, go visit your father’s grave.”
As I walked out of the prison gates, the spring wind stirred up willow catkins all over the ground.
I touched the voice recorder in my pocket, which contained Monica’s trembling confession: “Ashley, I love you, it’s just that our love grew into the wrong shape.”
Church bells rang in the distance, startling a flock of white doves that fluttered their wings across the gray-blue sky.
And I would carry my luggage toward my new beginning.
