Heartstrings on Fire novel Chapter 1175

Agnes turned to Reggie with a mix of suspicion and hope in her eyes. "Godfather," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "my cousin claimed that you, in your ambition for power, orchestrated the deaths of Nichol, Lyman, and Shipley. Godfather, what's the truth?"

Even though Reggie had already explained himself once, and Agnes had relayed this to Kearney, Kearney remained utterly unconvinced. Agnes felt that a confrontation was the only way to unearth the truth.

Reggie's gaze darkened as he turned to Kearney. "So, little brother, you believe I murdered your father, and it's this belief that fuels your hatred towards me? You want to kill me to avenge him?"

Kearney didn't deny it. "Yes, you're right. You killed my father and drove my mother to her death. I became an orphan because of you. Then, you had the audacity to take me in, making me call you 'godfather' all these years, each time reminding me of the blood feud between us. I've harbored this hatred for twenty-five years. Do you have any idea how I've lived those years? Every night, I've cut my arm to keep myself awake and aware. The scars heal, then they bleed again. That's been my life!"

Kearney rolled up his sleeve to reveal an arm covered in dense, horrifying scars. The sight was so ghastly it sent shivers down one's spine. Agnes couldn't help but feel a complex wave of emotions. It was no wonder Kearney had become the person he was today - his cruelty towards others mirrored the brutality he inflicted upon himself. Growing up under such pressure and darkness, it was inevitable that his soul became twisted and sinister.

Even Reggie was shocked upon seeing Kearney's scars. "Twenty-five years? You were only five years old back then. Who filled your head with the notion that I was responsible for your parents' demise? I swear on my life, their deaths were a tragedy that pained me more than anyone. To accuse me of orchestrating their demise is nothing short of slander!"

Kearney sneered, "All those involved are long gone, and now it's your word against... well, your word. But Reggie, you might fool others, even Septima, but you can't fool me."

"And who, pray tell, has been feeding you these lies since you were but a child?"

"My mother," Kearney shot back, "who else?"

Reggie frowned deeply. "Regina said that? Impossible."

"Don't you dare speak her name. You're not worthy." For once, Kearney seemed genuinely agitated.

Reggie sighed, "Your mother and I were as close as siblings. When your father passed, and she fell ill, it's true she never woke from an overdose of sleeping pills. But her demise was born from the grief of losing your father, not my hand. If you seek someone to blame, blame The Obsidian Order. They're the ones who orchestrated your father's death."

Kearney, however, produced an envelope from his pocket. It was sealed in a clear plastic bag, evidently old but well-preserved. "This letter was written by my mother before she died. She explicitly names you as the one responsible for my father's death. How do you explain that?"

He placed the letter in Reggie's hands, challenging him to refute the undeniable evidence of his mother's own words.