Molly Walker's eyelids gently lifted, her pupils were pitch black, a mocking yet enticing smile graced her lips.
"It's quite a pity, he didn't know how scheming I was even until his last breath."
Molly laughed softly, laughing until her nose was somewhat stuffy.
Michael Gallagher was dead.
What kind of person she was, he could no longer see.
Isabelle Richardson opened her mouth, as if she had lost her soul, staring blankly at the ground without moving.
Everything had settled.
Molly offered a self-deprecating laugh, hands stuffed in her pockets, palms chillingly cold.
Taking a deep breath, she lightly lifted her foot, slowly walking out of the room.
Stepping out of the prison, the blinding sunlight shone on her face, making her eyes sting.
She squinted uncomfortably.
"Miss Thompson..." Emma Smith ran after her and stopped her, "Where are you going? Let me give you a lift."
