Chapter 4

That night, I thought Ryland would not come back.

But in the dead of midnight, he returned, carrying a heavy stench of alcohol.

I sat on the living room sofa and tended to the gash on my arm with a cotton swab and iodine.

He stumbled in, and when his gaze fell on the shocking blood mark on my arm, his whole body froze.

He reached out, as if to touch my wound, but his fingertips trembled and pulled back just an inch from my skin.

"Why... why did it have to be Theo..." He gripped my shoulders with a force that nearly crushed my bones.

In his eyes, I saw a vulnerability I had never witnessed before, tears blurring his vision uncontrollably.

The next second, his tall frame collapsed forward, and he buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice choked beyond recognition. "Elena, I'm sorry... I did not mean it... I did not want to hurt you..."

He held me tight, as if clutching a priceless treasure.

I did not move, nor did I respond.

Soon enough, overcome by his heavy intoxication, he slumped onto the sofa and passed out.

I looked at his sleeping profile and, moments later, slipped his car keys from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

That Bentley had struck me as off from the day of the crash.

But Ryland insisted I was too sensitive and refused to let me dig further.

I took the keys without a second thought.

That very night, I drove the car to a private repair shop I had arranged in advance, one utterly trustworthy.

The mechanic was a friend of my college senior, whom I roused from sleep, yet he raised no objection.

I handed him the keys, my voice steady. "Spare no expense, inspect the brake system, check every inch inside and out."

At four in the morning, the sky still dark.

I received a call from the mechanic, his voice gravely serious on the line. "Mrs. Payne, this car's brake fluid line shows signs of deliberate sabotage with a high-strength corrosive agent. This tampering was extremely subtle, hidden on the inner side of the line joint, invisible in a standard inspection. But under high-speed driving or sudden braking in the rain, the line would burst from the instant pressure, causing the brakes... to fail completely."

A thunderous roar echoed in my mind.

In a flash, every deliberately buried detail, every doubt I had overlooked, linked into a crystal-clear chain.

Two years ago, on that night of pouring rain, I drove Ryland's car to bring Theo home from the old estate, and on the road, to dodge a truck that veered out suddenly, I slammed on the brakes...

But the pedal sank like stepping into cotton, utterly unresponsive.

Everyone called it an accident, my mishandling in the storm, my fault that killed Theo.

It was no accident at all!

That Bentley was Ryland's usual ride.

Only that day, my own car broke down for some unknown reason and went to the shop.

Ryland happened to switch to a Rolls-Royce that day, so I borrowed the Bentley.

When I drove to the estate, the rain had not started yet, so I noticed nothing wrong with the brakes.

During that period, the only one who could access his private car frequently without raising suspicion, aside from the driver, was his most trusted and intimate personal secretary, Jolie.

I finally understood why, over these two years, her glances at me always carried that faint trace of pity and mockery.

She mocked me for not even knowing how my own son truly died.

I drew a deep breath and swallowed the metallic tang rising in my throat, then dialed a number. "Investigate Jolie Hayes for me, all her bank transactions and communication records from two years ago, I want her to pay in blood."

The next morning, I stormed into Ryland's office with the brake inspection report printed overnight and a dossier on suspicious fund flows.

He sat behind his massive desk, his face still etched with the exhaustion of a hangover, and when he saw me enter, a flicker of guilt over my arm wound crossed his eyes instinctively.

That guilt now seemed utterly mocking.

I gave him no chance to speak and strode forward to slam the two documents down on his desk with force.

"Ryland, look closely."