After he killed my daughter, he knelt down and begged me for forgiveness

"Oh my, it really is Alex."

Sophia reached out her hand.

"How did you end up like this? Come in and sit down."

Before her fingers could touch me, I pulled my right hand back and hid it behind my back.

"Don't touch me."

Her hand froze midair. Her eyes reddened, and she turned to Marcus.

"Marcus, I just wanted to show some concern for Alex..."

His face darkened.

"Alex Henson! Sophia means well—why are you giving her attitude?"

"Five years running wild out there, and you not only didn't learn any manners, you've gotten even cruder!"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and said nothing.

He pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it at my feet.

"Since you're back, stop with the pitiful act. Take it and buy some decent clothes. Clean yourself up."

"Don't embarrass me at tonight's banquet."

The card hit the floor.

I looked down at it and didn't move.

He let out a cold laugh.

"What? Think it's not enough? Alex Henson, know when to quit."

"Behave yourself and make Sophia happy, and I might consider letting you back into the Abbott family."

He paused.

"Since you're back, bring your daughter too."

"Sophia's very generous. She said she's willing to be a stepmom—treat her like her own."

I jerked my head up and stared at him.

Bring her back?

Treat her like her own?

My body trembled.

He actually thought Lily was still alive?

After that blizzard—after he threw her on the side of the road—a two-year-old burning with fever could still be alive?

"What? Not willing?"

He looked at me.

"Afraid Sophia will mistreat her? Alex Henson, you're still as petty as ever. Sophia is ten thousand times kinder than you."

I clenched my right hand behind my back, nails digging into my palm.

"She doesn't have that kind of luck."

I forced the words through clenched teeth.

His expression shifted.

"Alex Henson! Don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit! That little bast—"

"Marcus Abbott."

I cut him off, bent down, and picked up the black card.

"I'll go buy clothes."

The moment I walked out the villa door, I heard Sophia's voice behind me.

"Marcus, don't be mad. Maybe Alex just can't accept it yet..."

After leaving the gated neighborhood, I tossed the black card into a roadside trash can.

Too dirty.

Back at the rental apartment, I dug a red evening gown out of a box under the bed.

My battle outfit from the Vienna solo recital five years ago.

The hem had a big hole chewed by rats, spotted with mildew.

Holding needle and thread, I used my trembling right hand to clumsily mend the tear.

Someone knocked on the door.

Chloe rushed in, eyes swollen and red.

"Alex..."

She hugged me.

"I found it—I found it!"

"Found what?"

"That car accident..."

She was shaking.

"That truck wasn't an accidental loss of control! It was Marcus—"

"He had someone slash your tire, forcing you into that rigged car, just to buy Sophia time to escape!"

The needle stabbed into my fingertip. A bead of blood welled up.

So that's how it was.

I looked at the drop of blood and smiled.

"Good to know."

"Chloe, help me with my makeup. Tonight, I'm attending a funeral."

The evening charity banquet was held at a five-star hotel.

Crystal chandeliers blazed overhead; a champagne tower rose in the center.

I appeared in the hall wearing that mended red gown, and the room went quiet.

The style was outdated. The stitches at the hem were crooked.