Chapter 267: Let my daughter rest in peace.

Words : 1648 Updated : Oct 5th, 2025

Chapter 267: Let my daughter rest in peace. Anne stood frozen, her hands still gripping the bars, her heart twisting painfully. Patricia wasn’t just a mother drowning in guilt—she was a broken soul desperately trying to rewrite her daughter’s ending, even if it meant sacrificing her own. "Lorie is already dead...I don’t hold a grudge with her any longer," she said compassionately. "You should tell the truth. Don’t destroy yourself like this..." But Patricia shook her head violently. "No," she cried out, her pain spilling over in broken words. "The truth will never come out. I told you because I had to—I owed you that much. But no one else can know." Her gaze turned desperate, almost frantic. "Promise me, Anne. Please... promise me this dies with me." Anne stared at her, bewildered. "Why? Why would you do this to yourself? You didn’t even know what Lorie was planning. You didn’t commit the crime. Why shoulder this burden?" "Because I won’t let anyone tarnish her name," Patricia shouted. "She is dead now. Whatever she did, she paid the price. Let her rest in peace... please. She went through enough already." Tears welled in her eyes as her voice dropped to a whisper. "She begged me to save her... again and again. She said Robert was killing her slowly, that she couldn’t take it anymore. But I didn’t help her. Instead, I told her to endure it. I told her to win his heart, to be patient—like love could fix a monster like him." Her shoulders hunched as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "I was scared. I was weak. I owed him money, and I thought keeping quiet was safer. I told her to accept the marriage, to submit to her fate. I thought things would smooth between them if they spent more time together. But I was wrong. I didn’t do anything to help her. And now... she is gone." She began slamming her fist against her chest. "It’s my fault. All my fault... If I had done something—anything—she might still be alive. She needed me, and I turned away. I abandoned my daughter when she needed me most." Her sobs grew louder, echoing through the cell. "She must have hated me... she must’ve..." Seeing Patricia break down like that, Anne’s heart twisted painfully. Tears shimmered in her eyes, her throat thick with emotion. "Patricia..." she whispered, clasping the bars a little tighter. But before she could speak further, Patricia lifted her head. Her face was stained with tears, desperation written across every line. "If you really feel even a shred of sympathy for me," she pleaded, "if you want to help me in any way, keep this to yourself. I beg you. Let my daughter rest in peace. Don’t let the world curse her. Don’t let her be remembered as a murderer..." Anne stared at her in silence, torn between reason and emotion. Augustine had been deeply involved in the case, tracing each thread, convinced there was someone else behind it all. And Anne believed him. This wasn’t just about Lorie’s desperate attempt to get even with her. It was bigger, more twisted. Anne had a feeling that Lorie might not have acted alone. A long silence hung between them. Then Anne slowly nodded. "I promise. I won’t let Lorie’s name be dragged through the mud. Still, you are wrong if you think this is over. It’s more complicated than you know. I can’t say anything yet. But when the time comes, you’ll understand what I mean." She held Patricia’s gaze for a second longer before she turned and walked away, leaving Patricia behind with her sobs. When Anne arrived home, the sight of a lone figure near the gate made her heart skip a beat. As the car slowed to approach the estate, she leaned forward, squinting through the window. "Nathan?" she whispered with disbelief. "What is he doing here?" She turned sharply. "Sam, stop the car." At her command, the vehicle came to a smooth halt in the driveway. "Go and tell him to come in," she added, her eyes fixated on Nathen. "Yes, Ma’am," Sam replied before stepping out and walking toward the gate. After exchanging a few quiet words with Nathan, he returned and resumed his place behind the wheel, guiding the car further up until it stopped neatly in front of the house. Anne stepped out. Without sparing another glance behind her, she ascended the steps and entered the house. The housekeeper came over as she stepped into the hall and took her handbag. "Do you need anything, Madam?" she asked with a slight bow of her head. "Bring some fresh juice," Anne instructed, easing herself into the sofa with a tired sigh. "And snacks too." "Yes, Ma’am," the housekeeper said with a nod before retreating to the kitchen. Anne leaned back, her thoughts already drifting to why Nathan had shown up unannounced. A few minutes later, Nathan stepped through the doorway. He paused when his eyes met Anne’s cold, unwavering, and unmistakably unwelcoming glare. His smile faltered for a second, but he forced it back on and moved forward, cautious and uncertain. Anne didn’t say a word. She sat still, her arms resting lightly on the armrest, her gaze pinned to him like ice. She didn’t offer a greeting, not even a gesture toward the empty seat across from her. Nathan’s eyes flicked to the sofa, hesitating as he waited for some invitation. None came. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried to ease the tension. "I went to the hospital the other day... but you were already discharged. So I thought I’d come here and check on you. But your guards stopped me at the gate." "They were following orders," Anne said flatly, her tone devoid of warmth. "I told them not to let anyone from the Granet family set foot in this house." The color drained slightly from Nathan’s face, heat of embarrassment creeping up his nape. "I know you are upset with my mother for her harsh words and rude behavior... But please, forgive her. She wasn’t herself. The things she said—she didn’t mean them. She is struggling emotionally, and—" "I’m not interested in your family drama, Mr. Nathan," Anne cut in sharply. "I’m not a part of your life, nor do I wish to be. Keep your problems and your people away from me." Her expression hardened. "Your sister Megan? She is riddled with jealousy and insecurity. And people like them are dangerous. You have seen what happened lately. Because of someone’s petty hatred, I almost died. My friend is still recovering in the hospital." Nathan lowered his eyes, guilt and helplessness flickering on his face, but Anne wasn’t done. "I’ve had enough of toxic, unstable people. I just want a peaceful life where I’m not constantly under threat from the shadows of someone’s obsession or resentment." She tilted her head with a cool smile. "So do me a favor – don’t come here again. I’d hate to be the reason your sister spirals further." Nathan parted his lips, but the words wouldn’t come. "I... I just wanted to see if you were alright," he stammered. "I was worried..." "I don’t need your concern, Mr. Nathan," Anne interrupted, her voice clipped and emotionless. "You and I are not close. I have a husband who takes care of me." "I know that, but I—" Just then, the housekeeper came, holding a tray with a tall glass of fresh orange juice and a plate of golden, crisp snacks. She placed it carefully on the coffee table between them. Nathan’s eyes flicked toward the glass. He tried not to stare, but the dryness in his throat betrayed him. He had been outside for quite a while, the heat clinging to his skin, and his water bottle had long since run dry. Still, he stood stiffly, unsure whether it was meant for him. Anne noticed. Her gaze softened just a little. "Drink the juice. Have some snacks," she said, not warmly but without the icy edge from before. "They are for you." Startled, Nathan turned to her. He clearly hadn’t expected such a gesture. Anne raised a brow. "Why are you hesitating? You are flustered. You look like you are about to faint. Sit down and drink before you pass out." Though her words were blunt, there was a flicker of concern in her tone. Nathan offered a faint, sheepish smile in return. "Thanks..." He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa, reached for the glass, and drank the juice in a single gulp, the cool citrus easing the dryness in his throat. Anne watched Nathan quietly, her gaze softening. Then, turning to the housekeeper, she said, "Bring another glass of juice." Before the housekeeper could move, Nathan quickly interjected, shaking his head. "There is no need. This is enough." He offered Anne a small, sincere smile. "Thank you... for your hospitality. Even though you despise me and my family, you still invited me in, served me something to drink and eat. That... means more than you think." Anne straightened, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin with quiet dignity. "I don’t despise you or your family, Mr. Nathan," she said coolly. "I’m just... cautious. Life has already taught me a few cruel lessons. And this time, not just me but people I love have been hurt too. I can’t afford to be reckless anymore. So I’ve decided—anyone who sees me as a threat, who feels jealous or insecure around me... I’ll stay away from them. It’s safer that way." Her voice hardened as her eyes bore into his. "And let me tell you one thing—your sister told me very clearly to stay away from you and your family. In her words, I was just a lowly orphan with no right to be near the Granets."

Chapter 267: Let my daughter rest in peace.

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