[The main character is the villain.]
[The villainess has been kidnapped.]
[Ah, the heroine...married someone else.]
[And what kind of genre is this now, excuse me?]
[Some kind of ugly hybrid...]
[No matter how you look at it, you definitely can’t call it romantic fantasy anymore.]
Adaline closed her eyes, as if she could close herself off from what was happening. [Fraud, kidnapping, illegal detention, this is a crime thriller, nothing less.]
[And no matter what genre I find myself in, my chances of surviving are slim.]
[Whether she was the villain in a fantasy novel or the victim in a crime drama, the outcome for her was always the same: the end.]
[This is life... fucking hell.]
At the moment, Adaline was a prisoner, locked in an unfamiliar place. And her fate depended on a crazy madman - the final antagonist of this whole story.
In her previous life she had not done anything particularly sinful. So why has everything turned so monstrously upside down now?
[Lloyd won't be able to save me. And it shouldn't.]
Remembering Shane's look, full of resentment and coldness, she understood that he would not spare Lloyd.
[And, Lloyd by nature was secretive, inconspicuous. The ideal killer is for quiet affairs, not for open war.]
[What should I do...]
Adaline tried to concentrate, but her head was working hard, life on the run, full of idleness and carelessness, had taken its toll. The brain has forgotten how to make decisions.
[However, there was nothing special to decide. All her cards burned five years ago.]
[Should I just kneel? I don't care about pride if it gives me at least a chance to survive.]
She was ready to beg, apologize, crawl... But she felt that it wouldn’t work with Shane.
There was a pain in my stomach.
[That damn gastritis pain again. From stress.]
[Just lying down is not an option.]
Clenching her will into a fist, Adaline resolutely got out of bed.
[Since Genevieve came in unhindered, it means the door was not locked. Maybe Shane was so sure she wasn't going anywhere.]
[Or maybe there are guards around every corner.]
[One way or another, she could no longer stay in this stuffy, dark, windowless room.]
[It seemed like a little more and she would start to feel depressed.]
But as soon as she stood up, the door opened again.
She froze, expecting to see Shane or Genevieve. However, a completely different figure entered and froze on the threshold.
"Oh...Lord..."
A ringing, trembling voice.
"Mom..."
Marquise Emma Bertrand stood in front of her, looking worse than in her worst memories. Thin, with a sallow face, sunken cheeks, like a person who has been ill for a long time.
“Is...really you, Adaline?”
"..."
“Adaline! My girl!
She rushed forward and squeezed her daughter in her arms. Adaline was too weak to push away. It seemed that if you applied force, the mother would crumble right in your hands.
“My girl...my baby is alive...A-Adaline!”
"Mom..."
“Let me look at you, come on, let me...”
The fingers that touched her cheeks were cold and rough. They trembled, sliding over her face, over her eyes, and at that moment Adaline almost burst into tears.
[Emma has changed. Became so...tiny.]
While they stood there, not knowing how to breathe or what to say, three more figures appeared behind Emma.
Her father is the Marquis Gregory.
And two older brothers - Patrick and Jeff.
Shane and Geneva followed them in.
Seeing Shane's wry smile, Adaline seemed to wake up from a dream.
“Mom, let go.” - Patrick said coldly.
“You are doing something mean, Duke Blanchard.” - Gregory said, wincing and angrily tucking his nose.
But Jeff grinned:
“Where did you find this woman? Very similar. You promised to show me something that belonged to Adaline. And they put on this show.”
“I buried my sister myself. With my own hands. It's disgusting. I will officially submit..."
But Shane, pushing Genevieve forward, calmly said:
“The coffin you buried was empty. When she lay down in it, she was already almost dead. This is all that Saint Genevieve had enough strength for then.”
He lied...with ease, without even hesitating. As if he was speaking the truth.