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The style was outdated.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.
"Is that Alex Henson? Oh my God, she looks so much older."
"I heard she's been missing for years—why would she show up dressed like that? Looks like street-stall junk."
"What's with her hands? Why does she keep them tucked in her sleeves?"
The whispers drifted over.
I straightened my back and walked toward the corner.