Vincent did not hesitate. He unlocked his phone with a few swift taps and flung it at me as though tossing evidence onto a courtroom table.
On the screen was footage from inside the Volkov mansion. A small figure appeared in the frame, wearing a dress identical to the one Sofia had worn that day. The girl had a hat pulled low over her face and moved with an unsteady gait as she entered Roxanne’s bedroom.
She walked toward the vanity, took a small bottle out of a bag, and poured its contents into a jar of skincare cream. The video cut off immediately afterward.
I noticed the timestamp.
Two days ago.
By that time, my daughter had already been reduced to ashes.
A bitter laugh escaped me, though tears streamed freely down my face.
Roxanne stepped forward delicately, her voice trembling with false vulnerability. “Alessandra, I’m not trying to accuse anyone. I only want to understand why Sofia would do such a thing. She’s still young. It’s not too late to guide her properly. You can’t let her grow up thinking this is acceptable.”
Her hypocrisy made my blood boil. I pushed myself up and spat directly onto her rash-covered cheek.