If Rachel Barton is so happy to possess the identity of Helena.
Then.
Let her thoroughly become Helena.
A moment later, Viola Thompson stood up from her computer desk, looking out the window.
The neon lights outside were bright.
They illuminated the shimmering snow all over the sky, making it especially beautiful, a beautiful snowscape, yet also dangerous.
The image of Mrs. Thompson lying in the snow popped up in her mind once again.
At that time.
The old woman must have been both saddened and helpless.
With this in mind, Viola Thompson took a deep breath, hiding all her emotions deep within her heart.
Just then, a doorbell rang in the air.
Viola Thompson looked back slightly, closed the page on the computer, and in the blink of an eye, she returned to her usual indifferent demeanor.
As if nothing had happened.
" Who is it?" Viola Thompson passed over to open the door.
Soon, the door opened.
It was Mary Perryne carrying bird's nest soup.
"Mom."
