"Clara, you—"
"What do you want, Alexander?" Mrs. Wright interrupted, her voice icy and detached, without granting him a glance.
Alexander's eyes narrowed. "You knew Witt was alive, didn't you?" His accusation hung in the air.
Mrs. Wright's expression remained serene, but her hands trembled slightly, pausing for a moment in her knitting sweater.
"All along, you've been in contact with him, why?" Alexander pressed, his tone relentless.
Mrs. Wright's fingers paused, a fleeting glimmer of surprise dancing in her eyes. Her expression remained serene, but her hands betrayed her, trembling slightly as she returned to her knitting.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said calmly, yarn clicking softly as her needles moved. "Witt died 20 years ago, thanks to your daughter." Her voice dripped with venom.
