Blood spread across the white marble floor like spilled wine.
Ten-year-old Adrian West stood frozen in the mansion's entrance, staring at the broken body on the ground. It was his mother—Elizabeth West, the lady of the West household. Her elegant beige dress now stained crimson, her golden hair splayed out like a shattered halo.
One moment, the afternoon had been bathed in sunlight. The next, his world had collapsed.
"Mother?" Adrian's voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible even in the terrible silence of the grand hall.
Butler Benjamin rushed from the corner, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy, trying to shield his eyes. "Young master, don't look!"
But it was too late. Adrian had seen everything—the moment his mother fell from the top-floor balcony, the desperation in her eyes, and that faint whisper carried away by the wind that only he could hear: "I'm sorry..."
Worse still, he knew why.
Just an hour earlier, he had witnessed his mother discover those photographs in his father's study—intimate pictures of his father William with Sofia, their beautiful housekeeper. His mother had frantically searched through the drawers until she found a stack of letters, her expression morphing from rage to complete devastation.
Adrian remembered the way she had looked at him—that pain of absolute betrayal had been almost suffocating.
"Adrian, you shouldn't see this." His father's calm voice came from behind. William West, the most powerful businessman in the city, maintained perfect composure even in front of his wife's corpse. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, but Adrian shook it off violently.
"You killed her!" the boy screamed, his voice echoing through the vast West mansion.
A flash of pain crossed William's face, but quickly gave way to coldness. "You'll understand when you're older."
"I will never understand!" Adrian's tears finally broke free. "Never!"
Three days after the funeral, Adrian stood by the window, watching the butler escort a mother and daughter out of the West family gates. It was Sofia and her five-year-old daughter Ella.
"They have to go," William said, standing behind his son. "It's for the best."
Adrian didn't answer, but his eyes remained fixed on the small girl. When she turned to look back at the mansion, her eyes were filled with confusion. Sofia held her daughter tightly as they hurried into the waiting black car.
"Will she come back?" Adrian suddenly asked.
"Who?"
"The girl." Adrian's voice was eerily calm and cold.
William frowned at his son. "No, they won't return."
Adrian said nothing more, but he knew he would never forget that girl and her mother—the two people who had destroyed his family.
---
Fourteen years later
Adrian West stood by his father's hospital bed, watching the man who had once dominated the business world reduced to a breathing shell. Late-stage lung cancer had rapidly weakened William, and doctors said he wouldn't last the week.
"Look at you, Father." Adrian smirked coldly. "Finally paying for your sins."
William weakly opened his eyes, his lips twitching as if trying to speak. Adrian leaned closer.
"So...phi...a..." William struggled to form the name.
Anger flashed in Adrian's eyes. "Even now, you're still thinking about that woman? The one who killed my mother?"
William feebly shook his head, attempting to grasp his son's wrist, but his strength was pitiful. Adrian watched as his father's fingers slipped back to the bed.
Three days later, William West passed away in his sleep. At the funeral, Adrian, as the sole heir, accepted condolences from various business associates. No tears, no grief, only composure and restraint—just like William in life.
"Sir, these are your father's personal effects." After the funeral, old butler Benjamin handed Adrian a leather case. "Mr. William instructed these items be given directly to you."
Back in the mansion's study, Adrian opened the case. Inside were documents, several journals, and a small safe. He entered his father's birthday, unsurprised when the safe opened.
Inside lay a stack of bank statements showing monthly transfers to a psychiatric hospital, continuing for four years.
Adrian frowned, picking up the phone. "Matt, I need you to investigate a patient at St. George Psychiatric Hospital. Name: Sofia Morrison."
After hanging up, Adrian sat in what had once been his father's chair, coldly regarding the portrait of his mother on the opposite wall. "I'll find them, Mother. I'll make them pay for your death."
William's brother Richard visited a week after the funeral. The man, ten years younger than William, maintained his distastefully frivolous demeanor even after his brother's death.
"So, you've taken over everything?" Richard sipped his whiskey, eyes scanning the luxurious study.
"The will was explicit," Adrian replied curtly.
Richard chuckled. "William was always so cautious. Tell me, did you find those transfer records?"
Adrian shot his uncle a piercing look. "You knew about the money?"
"Of course, that was for Sofia's medical care." Richard swirled his glass. "Poor woman, how many years has she been in that place now?"
Adrian's voice dropped dangerously low. "Tell me everything about her."
A sly look crossed Richard's eyes. "Ah, you know nothing, do you? About the woman who destroyed Elizabeth..."
"Explain."
"Did you know she has a daughter?" Richard's lips curled into an unsettling smile. "A beautiful daughter, just like her mother was in her youth."
Adrian's fingers gripped the desk tightly. "Where is she?"
Richard shrugged. "God knows. But..." He pulled a photograph from his pocket and slid it toward Adrian. "This was taken a few years ago. The girl's grown up, looks just like her mother."
Adrian stared at the young woman in the photograph—dark hair, bright blue eyes, a younger version of Sofia. A cold fire ignited in his heart.
"What do you plan to do?" Richard asked curiously.
Adrian pocketed the photograph, his gaze hardening. "Find her. Then make her pay."
Outside, a storm was brewing, dark clouds engulfing the entire West mansion, as if foreshadowing the ominous revenge plan forming within.