Chapter 5
In the livestream, Edwin gripped the paternity test report tightly, his voice filled with anger and confusion. “Declan, the test results clearly show that Ariana isn’t your biological daughter at all. Your real daughter is Ashley-the one you beat black and blue.”
The camera slowly panned across the room.
“So what?” Declan stared coldly into the lens. “So what if she’s my biological daughter? I’ll beat her if I want to. I couldn’t care less if she dies.”
The livestream exploded with outrage, the screen flooded with comments like “You’re worse than an animal” and “Someone call the police.”
Edwin trembled with rage and stormed forward, grabbing Declan’s wrist. “Do you have any humanity left? If you didn’t love Ashley, why did you have her in the first place?”
This question seemed to strike something in Declan-a flash of tears flickered in his eyes.
But it lasted only a moment before he suppressed the emotion.
After a brief silence, he suddenly pointed at Ariana’s test report and whispered something in Edwin’s ear.
pick it up.
The next second, Edwin’s face went deathly pale, his phone nearly slipping from his hands.
“Everyone should go home now,” he said, his voice shaking violently as his eyes frantically avoided the camera. “This is their family business. We shouldn’t interfere.”
Without hesitation, he ended the livestream, leaving behind a flood of angry comments from viewers.
I lay in my hospital bed, watching the phone screen fade to black, feeling completely numb inside.
I’d seen this scene play out too many times-whenever someone tried to stand up for me, Declan always managed to escape unscathed.
The pitying looks from nurses during my dressing changes had long since stopped affecting me.
The three-day deadline had passed. Did Vincent’s offer still stand?
Lost in these thoughts, I forced myself to get up and head to our agreed meeting place.
But I waited in the cold wind all day, and no one showed up.
After seeing the paternity report, Vincent had abandoned me
too.
It turned out that from beginning to end, no one was willing to pull me out of this hell.
At this realization, I let out a bitter laugh as despair completely consumed me.
Dejected, I prepared to return to the hospital to continue recovering.
But as I climbed the hospital steps with my crutch, a flyer suddenly smacked into my face.
I caught it with my good hand and quickly scanned the content. The headline read “Brutal Filicide Case,” with Ariana’s memorial photo as the image, though it was pixelated.
Ariana was dead?
The shock left my mind completely blank. Almost instinctively, I fled back home.
The piercing wail of sirens assaulted my nerves, and police tape hung loosely around the building.
My heart seemed to skip a beat. I stumbled against the wall, my nails digging deep into my palm.
Several neighbors had gathered inside the police perimeter. Nora was covering her mouth, sobbing quietly, and when she saw me, she quickly turned away.
“Ashley,” she choked out, “your mother… she killed your
sister…”
I couldn’t feel the pain in my feet as I mechanically walked into the building.
The air was thick with the metallic smell of blood.
The front door stood wide open, and Ariana’s earring had rolled into a pool of blood.
She lay on her back, the wound on her neck still oozing blood, her right hand clutching a piece of paper-her paternity test report.
“Ariana,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “who killed you?”
Though Ariana had always ignored me, we had shared more than a decade of Christmases together, and I felt genuine sadness at her death.
Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around angrily, looking at the person responsible for all this.
Monica stood there, holding a bloodied fruit knife with a strand
of Ariana’s hair wrapped around the handle.
Her eyes were blurred with tears, and even as the police restrained her, she kept looking at me.
But I just stood there, bewildered by everything unfolding before me.
Monica had killed Ariana?
Monica had killed Ariana!
