A week later.
Grace was sitting on the terrace, soaking up the sun with a thick cashmere blanket over her legs.
Damien walked over, a manila envelope in his hand.
He didn't look happy. In fact, there was a violent edge to his expression.
“Grace.”
He crouched beside her and took her cold hand. “I found it.”
Grace’s eyelashes fluttered. She didn’t speak, just looked at him quietly.
Damien took a deep breath, pulled the contents from the envelope, and handed them to her.
It was a copy of a bank transfer record and an immigration document.
“That driver, Lawrence, immigrated to Australia three years ago. He’s living quite comfortably, even bought a farm over there.”
Damien’s voice was ice-cold. “Ten minutes after you spoke with Dorian that day, half a million dollars had been wired from Dorian’s personal account to Lawrence.”
Grace stared at the string of numbers.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
So, in her own brother’s eyes, the truth about their mother’s death was worth only five hundred thousand dollars.
The brother she had called “not completely rotten” had, without a second thought, pushed her into an abyss of lies to protect their hypocritical father and the so-called family name.
“Heh…”
Grace suddenly let out a laugh.
But as she laughed, tears started to fall.
“Damien, isn’t it hilarious?”
She pointed at the paper, her finger trembling violently. “I thought he was helping me find the truth, but it turns out…”
“But I’m his sister! The person who died was our mother! How… how could he do this?!”
A sharp pain twisted in Damien’s chest. He pulled her into his arms.
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