Chapter 6
After my daughter finished speaking, she ran off in tears.
I quickly made a gesture to the housekeeper, who immediately put down what she was doing and ran after her.
It wasn’t until my husband rushed to my side that he finally grasped the gravity of the situation. He was panicked, his voice shaking, “What is going on here?”
“Why did she die in our house?”
“I’m calling the police right now! The authorities need to know about this.”
I placed my hand on his and gestured for him to calm down. This was only the beginning of the show, and I couldn’t let him rush into things just yet.
She thought she was enjoying a rich life as the daughter of a wealthy family, but in reality, she had
been abused to death. I didn’t know how she would react when she learned the full truth.
But this was her own doing. If I hadn’t discovered what had been going on all those years ago, my daughter would have been the one dead today. How could I not resent her?
I clenched my fists, casting a glance at my stunned best friend. But despite my anger, there was no satisfaction in seeing her suffer. After all, this was a living, breathing human being, and she shouldn’t be paying the price for her mother’s mistakes.
When I sent someone to investigate my best friend’s house, I heard from the private investigator about the years of abuse her daughter had endured. My heart filled with nothing but hatred.
I approached the lifeless body of her daughter and gently closed her eyes, then turned to face m best friend, who was standing in shock.
“I never knew your daughter–or the person you thought was your daughter–was mine,” I said quietly.
“Why was she so thin? Why did she travel thousands of miles to find me? It wasn’t because she wanted to acknowledge me–it was because she wanted to escape from you.”
“What did you do to her? Is there any part of her body that wasn’t broken or damaged?”
glared at her, every word like a strike, as I poured out the bitterness and resentment that had built
Blood Ties Broken Bonds
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up inside me for so long.
“When she was three, you hung her over a well, almost causing a brain hemorrhage.”
“When she was five, you beat her arm with a stick until it was broken, then drove a nail through her palm just because she took a piece of bread.”
“At ten, when she was assaulted, she came home to tell you, but you scolded her, calling her a slut for ‘provoking‘ him. That little girl was so terrified, she hid in a filthy outhouse, crying and alone.”
“Have you forgotten all this? This was your daughter!”
My best friend recoiled, shaking with disbelief. She was speechless, unable to comprehend what she
Kad done.
“Verne Maud, I can’t believe you’re capable of such hate.”
“You tortured your own daughter like this! What kind of monster are you?”
Before I could finish, she rushed over, shoving me aside, and collapsed at her daughter’s side. Her
face twisted with disbelief.
For all these years, she had been abusing and tormenting her own daughter. She had wanted to give
her a life of luxury, but instead, she had driven her to an early grave.
Without a word, tears streamed down her face.
Phoenix, finally grasping the truth, was enraged. He pointed at her and shouted, “Did you think you‘
could bully her just because you thought she was my daughter?”
“What did my wife ever do to you for you to treat her this way?”
“Now you’ve killed your own daughter, and you don’t even feel remorse?”
But my best friend seemed to hear none of this. She trembled as she reached out for her daughter, but all she touched was the blood–stained ground.
She couldn’t stop herself from wailing, her cries full of heartbreak and agony. It was a sound that could shatter the soul.
But as I watched her in her pain, I felt nothing but disgust.
I shoved her hand away and called the police.
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“Verne Maud, if you have any shred of decency left, stop crying.”
If you had cared for your daughter, she wouldn’t have jumped from that height.”
“You never even bothered to check on her. Do you know she wrote you a letter before she died?”
“As fate would have it, I found it today. Would you like to read it?”
At these words, her eyes lit up with a hunger I hadn’t seen before. Like a ravenous wolf, she lunged at me, trying to snatch the letter from my hand.
“Give it to me!”
t’s my daughter’s letter to me!”
Having already read the letter, I couldn’t help but smile coldly.
“To you?” I said. “Maybe. But I don’t believe someone like you would have a reading it.”
With a sneer, I let go of the letter, and it fluttered into the blood–soaked ground.
real reaction after