Chapter 6
1326words
I pushed open the glass door of the Art Gallery.
Vincent was standing just a few steps away. The moment the door opened, he lunged forward a step.
"Eve..." he called me hoarsely, his voice broken, with a kind of desperate urgency. He reached out to grab me, but when he met my gaze, he withdrew his hand as if burned.
I said nothing, just looked at him quietly.
Looking at his sunken cheeks, the heavy dark circles under his eyes, and the creases on his coat collar.
This disheveled appearance, in the past, would have been enough to break my heart.
Now, there was only desolation in my heart.
"I've been looking for you for so long..." he began with difficulty, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. "Every place you might have gone... Eve, I know anything I say now is too late, but... please, give me five minutes."
His tone was humble to the point of being in the dust.
I glanced at Oliver's worried figure in the Art Gallery, then at the passersby casting glances our way.
"Over there." I pointed to a bench by the river, my voice flat.
He immediately followed behind me, his steps somewhat unsteady.
I stopped in front of the bench, didn't sit down, and kept a distance from him.
"Speak."
He took a deep breath, pulled out a thick manila envelope from his coat pocket, his fingers trembling slightly.
"This year... I found out many things." He pulled out several surveillance screenshots, bank statements, and several testimonials, speaking quickly and urgently.
"Look at this, surveillance near the greenhouse caught a servant sneaking in before the incident..."
"And this, Victoria's account shows a large unexplained cash withdrawal..."
"Her therapist at the time privately admitted that her condition was very unstable, with strong possessiveness..."
His voice grew lower and lower, finally turning into painful self-murmuring.
"So what?" I interrupted him, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Vincent, it took you a year to finally prove that your 'pure and innocent' sister is a lunatic who hired someone to kill?"
His belated truth merely confirmed what I had suspected all along.
A year ago, the reason I chose to leave without taking revenge on his sister was because of him—this damn "sister complex." His favoritism toward his sister far outweighed his responsibilities as a husband.
If I had painstakingly collected evidence, even if his sister went to prison, he would only feel regret and disappointment.
"Brother will wait for you to get out of prison... after you're released, you'll still be my good little sister..."
God, just thinking about it made me sick.
So, I chose to leave directly, escape the cage, and let him personally experience the severing of "family bonds" that comes with uncovering the truth.
And so, he dragged his feet and "cut" for a year.
"Is that all?" I again made no attempt to hide my mockery. "Tell me something I don't know."
He suddenly looked up, his face as white as paper, lips trembling, as if I had slapped him hard across the face.
"No... that's not..." he tried to defend himself in vain, but under my all-knowing gaze, all his words got stuck in his throat.
He dejectedly lowered his head, clutching tightly to those so-called "evidences."
Silence spread through the cold air.
After a long time, he finally squeezed out a broken sentence from deep in his throat, tinged with the scent of blood:
"I... I had known for a long time..."
He raised his head, tears unexpectedly rolling down from his bloodshot eyes. This once arrogant man, at this moment in front of me, was crying like a lost child.
"That night... I went to take care of her who was 'sick'..."
"I woke up in the middle of the night and found she wasn't there... My phone was on the bedside table, its position... had been moved..."
He spoke incoherently, each word carrying endless remorse.
"I had a very bad feeling at that moment... immediately called you, couldn't get through..."
"I rushed out to find her, discovered she had just returned from the back garden, her body carrying the night's chill... I asked her where she'd been, she didn't speak..."
His voice choked up, the immense pain making it difficult for him to breathe.
"Then... the news of your accident came..." he closed his eyes, tears flowing more fiercely. "I rushed to the hospital, saw you lying there... heard you say... heard her laughter..."
"I... I actually understood everything in my heart! I understood everything!"
"Even about the text messages you mentioned later, I knew clearly that I never sent you any texts! But you were so certain... so I realized... it was probably my sister who sent them..."
He suddenly opened his eyes, filled with overwhelming remorse and self-loathing.
"But Eve! I was afraid at that time! I was a coward! I couldn't accept... couldn't accept that it was my sister, whom I had doted on since childhood, who planned all of this!"
"It was me! It was my indulgence that turned her into a monster!"
"It was me who caused the death of our child! It was me who ruined you!"
He growled, his fist pounding hard against his own chest.
"So I chose to escape! I deceived myself! I would rather believe it was your hallucination! Because I'm just a fucking bastard who didn't dare to face the truth! A coward!"
His anguished confession was like a violent storm.
If I had heard these words a year ago, I might have collapsed.
Now, I quietly looked at him, my heart frozen, without a ripple.
After he calmed down, with only heavy breathing remaining, I slowly opened my mouth, my voice like an ice-cold knife, cutting away his last shred of dignity:
"Vincent, is it truly because of cowardice?"
He froze, looking at me blankly.
"Isn't it because," I tilted my head slightly, my lips curling into the utmost mockery, "you can't bear to give up the satisfaction of Victoria's morbid dependence on you, yet you're also too greedy to lose me, the 'perfect wife' who matches your status?"
"You delusionally tried to have it both ways."
"What you call 'unable to face' is nothing but your selfish greed! You wanted both, and refused to let either go!"
"Until my child paid for your greed with their life, you were finally forced to make a choice!"
My voice wasn't loud, but every word cut to the bone.
The color drained instantly from Vincent's face. He was as if struck by lightning, staggering back a step, shaking his head, unable to speak.
I saw in the depths of his eyes, the terror and distress of being completely seen through.
I had guessed correctly.
"No... it's not like that... Eve, I love you..." he refuted futilely.
"Save it, Vincent," I interrupted him, my tone filled with complete weariness. "Your love is too cheap, I can't afford it."
I turned around, preparing to leave.
Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrated gently.
I took it out to look.
A picture message from an unknown number.
The first photo showed Vincent and Victoria locked in a tight embrace.
The second one showed Victoria wearing a sexy nightgown, lying on the master bedroom bed at Lowell Manor, smiling at the camera with a mix of sweetness and defiance.
Below was a line of text:
[Brother will always come back to me, his investigation of me was just an act with you, don't be stupid, abandoned wife.]
Sent time, one minute ago.
I looked at my phone, the last trace of coldness on my face hardening into an emotionless mask.
Heh.
I slowly raised my head, turning the phone screen toward the bewildered man behind me.
"Vincent," my voice was terrifyingly calm, like the deathly silence before a blizzard, "look, this is your 'change'."
