Four days ago…

  “Rose was so meticulous that we could hardly find a shred of evidence against her,” Alena said, rising to her feet and facing the two men before her.

  They were gathered in Alena’s house, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls.

  “The only way to take her down is through Adam.”

  “Adam?” Jeff’s brow arched in curiosity.

  Alena nodded and perched on the glass table across from them. “Of course. Rose never wanted you to inherit your mother’s properties, Jeff. Her mission is clear.” She turned her gaze to Jason, her voice tightening. “To kill you.” Her finger moved from Jeff to Jason. “And you too. And your mother.”

  Jason’s expression hardened. “What?” His voice barely above a whisper, his brows knitting together. “What do you mean?” He scoffed, shaking his head as though Alena had just told a ridiculous joke. “How are my mother and I involved in this?”

  Alena’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Adam wanted it. He’s wanted it for years—long before we were even born. But he kept failing. That’s why he partnered with Rose.”

  “Wait… wait a second.” Jeff leaned forward, confusion twisting his features. “I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t know how it all started,” Alena admitted, swirling the whiskey in her glass before taking a sip. “But I know it’s connected to your father, Jeff. Adam and your dad were friends.”

  She set the glass down with a sharp clink. “I discovered the truth by accident—overheard Rose talking to Adam one day.”

  Twenty-six years ago.

  A tall, fair-skinned woman stepped into the sitting room, her figure heavy with pregnancy. She exhaled softly as she climbed the stairs to the second floor, one hand supporting her belly, the other resting on the curve of her waist.

  “Mom,” she called, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned the corner toward her mother’s bedroom.

  Pushing the door open, she froze. The breath in her lungs turned to ice. Her hand flew to her mouth as a gasp strangled in her throat.

  Her mother lay sprawled on the floor in a crimson pool beside her bed. A knife was buried deep in her stomach, blood seeping out in rapid streams, turning the wooden floor slick and dark.

  Hovering over her was a man clad in black from head to toe, gloved hands gripping the handle of the knife.

  The woman’s legs trembled as she staggered back. Her breath came in ragged, uneven pants. The man yanked the knife free, and fresh blood gushed from the wound.

  A piercing scream tore from her lips. She collapsed to the ground, her body trembling as her hands pressed against the cool floor.

  The man turned to face her. The dim light caught his features, and recognition crashed over her like a tidal wave.

  Her eyes widened in horror, her lips quivering as she tried to form words. “Jo… Jona… Jonatha…” she stammered, her vision blurring with tears.

  Her husband.

  Jonatha tilted his head, rolling his neck as if resetting his bones. His cold, calculating eyes bore into hers before he took a slow step forward, crouching beside her.

  “Florence,” he murmured, tracing the tip of the bloodied knife along the curve of her cheek. “What are you doing here, my love?”

  Florence shook her head frantically, the salty taste of fear thick on her tongue.

  Jonatha smirked. “So… you found out.” He sighed, running his fingers over the blade as though admiring it. “I have no choice, Florence.” He exhaled, his voice eerily soft. “I have to cut out your tongue.”

  A strangled sob escaped her lips. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, silently pleading.

  “Don’t you wonder why I’m being so kind?” Jonatha asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why I’m sparing your life?”

  Florence trembled, her breath hitching.

  Jonatha scoffed. “It’s because I need them.” His gaze flickered to her swollen belly. “My twins.” A sinister grin curled his lips. “I won’t hurt them.”

  “No! No!” Florence wailed, the agony of motherhood twisting her voice. “They’re mine!”

  Jonatha’s face darkened, his once-smooth features hardening into something monstrous. “Yours?” He laughed—a sharp, bone-chilling sound. “How will you claim them when you’re dead?” His fingers dug into her shoulders, his breath hot against her ear. “What a pity,” he whispered. “You won’t have much time with them once they’re born.”

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  Florence sobbed, her body wracked with grief.

  Jonatha exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, with terrifying precision, he shoved his fingers into her mouth and clamped down on her tongue.

  Two months later…

  A sleek black car pulled up to an extravagant mansion. The driver quickly stepped out and opened the door for Florence. She nodded as he gestured for her to exit.

  Cradling one of her newborn sons, she stepped onto the pavement. Her maid, Rebecca, followed closely behind, carrying the other twin.

  Florence had given birth just two days ago, her body still weak. But the wounds of the past months ran deeper than the ones childbirth had left.

  Two months since she lost her mother.

  Two months since Jonatha stole her tongue.

  And now, he hovered around her like a shadow, suffocating her with his twisted care. He had reported her mother’s murder and the attack on her to the police, shedding crocodile tears, begging for justice.

  Yet, the case had gone cold. Silenced. Bribed away into oblivion.

  Florence entered the sitting room, her grip tightening around her baby. And Rebecca followed.

  Florence took a deep breath. Her husband wasn’t home. It was her only chance.

  She gestured urgently to Rebecca, moving her fingers against the table like she was writing.

  Rebecca frowned. “Pen… and paper?” she asked.

  Florence nodded frantically, glancing at the door.

  Rebecca hurried upstairs and the front door swung open as she was out of sight.

  Two men stepped inside.

  They wore black tracksuits, their expressions carved from stone. One of them was bald and broad-shouldered—Adam.

  Before Florence could react, the other man wrenched her son from her arms.

  Florence clung to him desperately, her eyes flashing with the fury of a mother protecting her young. But her grip was no match for their brute strength. The man pried the baby from her grasp, his cries piercing the air.

  Tears blurred her vision as she stretched her arms, pleading silently, her mouth opening and closing in soundless agony.

  Rebecca, about to run down the stairs as Jeff’s wails filled the air, froze at the sight below.

  Adam crouched before Florence, his voice steady, almost sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Florence.” He pulled a knife from his pocket. “But your husband sent us.”

  Rebecca bit down on her lower lip, clutching the baby in her arms. The infant whimpered, curling his tiny fingers around her own as if sensing the looming danger.

  She inhaled sharply, her pulse hammering in her ears.

  What should I do?

  Rebecca’s eyes brimmed with tears, her vision blurring. She looked back at the sitting room, guilt and fear swelling in her mind as she grabbed the wall to support her weakening knees.

  What should I do? she asked herself, watching Jeff cry in the man’s arms, his small hands stretching toward his mother.

  What should I do, Lord? What...

  Rebecca gasped and jumped backward as Adam swiped his knife across Florence’s neck.

  Florence’s eyes widened. She fell to her knees, her gaze fixed on her son as tears streamed down her reddened eyes.

  Why? Why did you do this to me after all the truth and love? She cried in her mind as her eyes fluttered shut, her thoughts slipping into a memory...

  “Florence,” Jonatha called her name softly, cupping her face. “You know how much I love you, and I would never betray you.”

  Florence blushed, her cheeks turning pink as she smiled at him, placing her hands over his.

  “I know,” she said, nodding. “That’s why I married you.”

  “Now that you’re pregnant with my child,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and gazing into her eyes, “don’t you think it’s time to will your properties to the baby? You promised me this, or have you forgotten? After all,” he smiled, running his fingers through her hair, “it’s our baby.” His voice slithered into her ears like a serpent before he kissed her earlobe.

  Florence chuckled, holding onto his shoulders.

  “Did I ever break my promise to you?” she asked, her eyes shimmering with the intoxication of love as she stared into Jonatha’s.

  The soft laughter of Jonatha that day now echoed in Florence’s ears as she collapsed. The laughter, once warm, now sounded sinister.

  Was this the true meaning behind his laughter that day?

  Florence’s eyes finally shut her gaze forever leaving the small boy crying in the stranger’s arms.

  Adam stood, wiping his knife clean with a white handkerchief.

  “Get the twin brother and the maid.”

  Rebecca’s eyes snapped open, the terror of death jerking her from her guilt over Florence’s fate. Her survival instincts kicked in, and she stepped back into the house.

  ---

  Alena gulped down the drink in her glass in one go.

  “Adam collaborated with your father to kill your mother so they could take her properties and divide them. But then, Mrs. Anderson, Florence’s aunt, suddenly returned from America. She had been gone for so long that the family thought she was lost.

  “When Mrs. Anderson learned of her family’s deaths, she was devastated and furious. She was determined to uncover the truth. With her influence, she sought help. Your father, Jonatha, was caught and arrested. Fearing Jonatha would confess, Adam poisoned him.

  “Mrs. Anderson, believing justice had been served, took Jeff in as her only family before she got married and gave birth to you, Jason.”

  Alena paused, sitting on the arm of the chair opposite Jeff and Jason.

  “A few days after Adam killed Jonatha,” she continued, her voice lowering, “he received a call from a mysterious man. The man threatened to expose Adam’s crime and claimed to have a tape of Florence’s murder.

  “For seven years, the man blackmailed Adam, extorting money from him, until Adam finally tracked him down and killed him. Rose’s men helped with the murder. But Rose kept the tape and used it to manipulate Adam. She forced him to join hands with her to take over the White family’s properties, promising to help him gain control of the Anderson estate as well.

  “Adam agreed instantly. But Rose warned him—if he ever betrayed her, she would expose everything.”

  Alena smirked, her gaze sharp.

  “Do you see the opportunity for us here?”

  Silence hung in the room for a few moments. Jeff intertwined his fingers, unsure of how to feel. Happy? Sad? Guilty? Regretful? Mournful? He had no memory of his mother, no idea what she looked like, yet her story struck him deeply.

  How could she be treated this way? How could she be killed like that? By her own husband?

  A tear slipped from his eye onto his hand. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

  Jeff sniffled, quickly wiping his tears and looking down at the floor.

  Jason sighed, feeling the weight of Jeff’s pain press on him.

  “None of this is your fault, Jeff,” Jason said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  Jeff nodded, his lips quivering as he fought to hold back his sobs.

  “I’m sorry for everything, Jeff,” Alena said with a deep breath. “I really understand how you feel. But you know what?” She paused. “If we just sit here and cry, nothing will be solved. Now, we have to move forward.”

  Jeff lifted his red, grief-stricken eyes, determination beginning to replace sorrow.

  “So... we need the tape?”

  “We need the tape to make Adam do what we want,” Alena confirmed, her lips curling into a sly smile.

  “And I will get it.”

  Thank You for Reading!