I changed my breath secretly, restraining my inner doubts and shock.
"Impossible, such a high cliff, falling down must have killed him, even if he didn't die, then he must have been crippled, and it's been a year since then, why are you mentioning this."
From what Jane Hasis just said, you can tell that she had no idea about my imprisonment by Leah Moore.
"I'm not worried, in case she comes back for the Grayson family to find out …"
Worried about what?
What did the Grayson family find out?
Why does the safe return of her own daughter scare Jane Hasis so much?
Her words filled my stomach with doubt. Could it be that Leah Moore didn't imprison me simply out of cynicism, but that it had something to do with the Grayson family?
But before 'Leah Moore', I had nothing to do with the Grayson family.
I was about to listen to what Jane Hasis would say next when she suddenly paused, turned her words around and said, "It's probably her life, whoever made her have to go rock climbing and pull you, luckily you're okay or it would have been mom's life."
As it turns out, all Leah Moore said to the public back then was that I was going rock climbing, and when I had an accident, that was to blame.
But they are all daughters, even if they didn't grow up by their own side, they are still their own blood, so why is there such a big difference?
You obviously didn't find a body, but you just left it at that?
I deliberately asked, "Mom, what do you think will happen if Winter Moore does come back alive someday?"
"You're the only daughter in the Moore family, and even if she comes back alive someday, she can't stand in your way." Jane Hasis held my hand and sighed, "The rest is just her life's fault."
I know Jane Hasis and I are not close, even if the Moore family will get me back, has not been announced to the public my identity, know that the Moore family also has a daughter of very few people, but in person to hear their own mother to say such a thing, or gouge out the heart like pain.
I was so insignificant in Jane Hasis' mind.
Her hand was warm and her gaze was gentle, and that's what made it all the more painful as a sharpened blade dug into my heart.
I looked at Jane Hasis with blood dripping from my heart and a smile on my face and said, "Mom, you're so good to me."
The irony of that statement is beyond compare.
Jane Hasis didn't hear the meaning behind these words at all, she smiled more happily, "You are mom's daughter, who would mom treat well if not you, by the way, has your relationship with Ethan Grayson eased up a bit lately?"
"Same old same old." I jerked my hand back and replied perfunctorily.
"You have a child beside you, this Grayson family young lady's position you are sitting firmly, as for the man outside of the scene, it does not matter, get tired of playing, and ultimately to come back home."
Jane Hasis didn't get suspicious, stayed a while and left.
As I watched Jane Hasis leave, I was suddenly afraid to find out the truth… Was Leah Moore the sole operator? Was Leah Moore alone? Or did the entire Moore family know about it, and only chose to sacrifice me?
The cool intimacy, the brutal truths, and the careful consideration of the situation are chilling.
Luna Davisis divorced.
She voluntarily cleaned herself out of the house, didn't fight for custody of her children, moved out of the Meyer family, rented a room out of the house, and took a job at a gallery to make a living.
It was very heartbreaking to watch her skim so clean with Jack Meyer.
It's getting colder in the North Side.
I can not find the whereabouts of the child, private investigators have no news, someone is secretly obstructing the investigation, the person in charge of the autopsy was very tight-lipped, half a word.
Apparently, it was Jane Hasis who sealed the deal.
I stood on my balcony looking out into the distance and was lost in thought when a text from Luna Davis came through asking me to visit the gallery.
I obliged her and took a cab to the gallery.
When I arrived, she was busy, greeting me and letting me wander around at my leisure, it was all about a new batch of paintings.
I told her to mind her own business and not to worry about me.
I was casually walking around the gallery when suddenly a landscape painting caught my eye unawares.
This landscape painting …
I was transfixed in front of the painting, my eyes tight and sour on the small word in the bottom right corner, the word ' Will', and I just looked at it, tears silently streaming down my face.
I touched that one word with a trembling hand, my heart suddenly hurting so much I couldn't breathe.
[Winter, what's wrong with you?"]] Luna Davis came over and tugged on my arm, gesturing and asking me worriedly.
"It's, it's him, it's him …" I choked up so hard I could hardly speak, and gripped her shoulders in excitement, incoherent, "It's, it's him, Luna, it's him, he painted this picture, look at this writing, he wrote it , I recognize his handwriting, Vincent Will is alive, he's alive."
I pulled Luna Davis to read the small print in the bottom right corner of the painting, she frowned and looked more worried as she relieved me, [Winter, you are thinking about him too much, it's not his painting, he died a year ago, how could he have painted it].
The painting is dated and was painted last month.
How can someone who's been dead for a year come back from the dead?
A year ago, Vincent Will thought I was in there, he rushed in and never came out.
The man who would lay down his life for me is no longer in this world.
I got emotional and said firmly, "No, it's him, it's really him, I recognize this character, only he would write this character in this way, look at this stroke in the word ' Will', it's his habit, I used to even laugh at him, it's really him, believe me. "
This landscape painting convinced me that Vincent Will is still alive.
Luna Davis couldn't persuade me that I wouldn't die until I found the author of the painting to confirm it, and she helped me to ask around the gallery and finally got the address of the owner of the painting.
I couldn't wait to find it that day by following the address.
That's the most remote suburb of North City.
I stood in front of the door of my dilapidated rental, looking at the discarded raw materials and paintings in the aisle trash cans, and I was too afraid to knock on that door.
That each of those drawings had the word ' Will' in his handwriting in the bottom right corner.
I slowly crouched down, picked up the discarded paintings, and wept silently.
"Who's out there?"
It was a coarse voice.
The door 'creaked' as it was opened from the inside.
I tilted my head, staring blankly at the man in front of me, tears rolling down my face like broken beads.
He appeared before me like that in a cheap sweater with an apron stained with raw materials and a mask over his face.
We locked eyes, and even if he only showed two eyes, I recognized him instantly.
I never thought we'd meet again.
No words could describe the joy in my heart at that moment.
"Vincent Will …"
Vincent Will's eyes flashed with surprise, turning into disgust and hatred, but not a hint of elation.
"Leah Moore, how did you find this place."
He thinks I'm Leah Moore.
I wobbled to my feet and looked at him, tears blurring my vision as I leaned back and smiled, taking a step closer to him as I tried to reach out and touch him, to feel that one piece of truth.
I want to make sure that this isn't a dream, that he's really alive and well and standing in front of me.
My hand had just touched the mask on his face when his pupils plummeted, as if he had been hit hard, and he took a violent step backward, "You, you're … Winter?"