True or Fake, Love or Hatred

Micah abruptly ended the call as if he was the one being rejected.

Desperation flooded his eyes as he said, "Adeline, we're the most pitiful people in this world. We fell from the top of the world to rock bottom.

"Look at us. You’re wearing cheap rags from the dollar store, and I’ve got no one left in this world except for my most loyal friend here. I was once so glorious, but now I don’t even have a hundred dollars to my name."

Standing there, thin and frail in the darkness, Micah looked haunting.

He screamed in frustration, "I hate you so much! Why couldn't you win Timothy's heart? If you were better, Timothy wouldn't still be hung up on his precious first love Nancy. She would’ve stayed with me!"

That was not true. Would Nancy really have stayed with this drug addict after becoming the real heiress? No, she absolutely would not have.

Micah had already been kicked out of the Lane family and lost all his wealth and power. Anyone with any sense would know what choice to make, just like how Timothy wisely divorced me to be with the real heiress, Nancy.

Halle was still beside me. I fought through the searing pain, took a deep breath, and said, "Micah, don't give up on yourself, okay? You can always start over."

He shook his head. His eyes were red as he clutched his head in agony. "Adeline, we're beyond redemption."

Halle clung to me, sobbing. I struggled against the ropes that bound me, but no matter how much I tried, I could not break free.

It was just like my pitiful life. I was completely trapped.

Micah, in his cruelty, stabbed Halle right in front of me. He then turned the knife on me, stabbing me twelve times. That night, my daughter and I died at the hands of a drug addict.

Micah had taken a massive dose of drugs the day he kidnapped us. After killing us, he jumped from the sixth floor.

The police tried to reach my father, mother, and husband through my phone but only got through to my grandmother.

After the Jones family took back their real daughter, I was thrown out of their lives, and we both returned to our true destinies.

My grandmother, Edith Summers, was the only blood relative I had left. She was a dignified lady and a retired teacher. Although she had only known me for less than two months, she collapsed in tears when she saw our bodies.

Halle held my hand and asked if I could make her great-grandmother stop crying. I lowered my eyes and said, "Grandma's too heartbroken. She just needs to cry it out."

Knowing that I used to love dressing up when I was still the heiress of the Jones family, Edith bought the most expensive post-mortem restoration service for me and Halle before the cremation.

However, she did not know that the best mortician in this funeral home was none other than my husband, Timothy. My fate was so twisted.

Back when my cousin had been in a car accident and was disfigured, no mortician was able to restore her body until they found Timothy.

At that time, I was still Adeline Jones, the special and treasured heiress of the Jones family. Timothy made less than five thousand dollars a month as a mortician, and he never crossed my radar. Even though I rejected him many times, he never lost his enthusiasm.

"Sometimes I wish that I’ll die after you," he once said, "so I can make sure you look beautiful even in death."

I had cut him off immediately, "Ugh, can't you say something nice for once?" I acted annoyed, but I still let him into my life.

Coming from a wealthy family, I had met plenty of arrogant young men who thought the world revolved around them. Someone as down-to-earth and unique as Timothy was rare.

I was used to looking down on people, and I chose to date Timothy, someone I could also look down on. Of course, my parents strongly opposed it.

"We raised you in luxury, Adeline," they said. "You're the heiress of the Jones family. We didn't raise you to marry someone beneath you, let alone someone who works at a funeral home!"

"Addy, what could you possibly see in him? Are you hoping he'll do your makeup after you die?"

My ex-mother turned out to be right. I laughed bitterly to myself as I looked toward Timothy, who had just arrived outside the embalming room.

One of his colleagues patted him on the shoulder. "This is your last job before you get to work for Lane Corp. You’ll be the pride of your family!"

Timothy exchanged a few words with his coworker. Then, he started to prepare for the task with his assistant. He became serious and focused, turning his ‘work mode’ on.

I knew he loved his job. Once upon a time, I even admired his dedication to his craft.

His assistant picked up the report and could not help but comment, "It's a mother and daughter. They were both covered in multiple stab wounds and killed in cold blood. Even the child wasn't spared. What a tragedy."

Timothy nodded silently. "Yes, it's a real shame. She's the same age as my daughter, Halle."

I held Halle in my arms, watching him in silence. I was surprised he still remembered he had a daughter.

He took his tools and walked to where my daughter lay, lifting the white sheet that covered her.