The Abandoned Wife Dumped Him First (Victoria and Elias) novel Chapter 197

Victoria froze.

Rita, oblivious to her reaction, continued, "You know, it's like their family has been cursed these past few years. Nothing has gone right. They were a perfectly happy family of four, and both daughters were smart enough to get into top universities. Everyone in town was so envious back then, saying Carpenter Prescott was so lucky. After over twenty years of hard work, it looked like his good days were finally coming."

"But the happiness didn't last. A few days later, we heard his older daughter had an accident at school. She fell from the fifth or sixth floor. They saved her life, but both her legs were broken, leaving her permanently disabled. She couldn't handle the shock and developed some mental health problems."

"The Prescotts brought their older daughter back to town, saying it was for her recovery, but really they just kept her locked up day in and day out, terrified she'd try something. It went on like that for years. Just when their younger daughter graduated from college and the couple could finally breathe a little, they must have let their guard down for a second, and the older one…"

Rita let out a string of sighs. "She rolled her wheelchair down into the river by herself. It was so cold, and the kid was wearing a heavy coat. The second it hit the water, the wet coat got heavy."

"Once she went in, she never came back up."

Listening to the story, Victoria felt her heart plummet, as if sinking to the bottom of the ocean, a cold that made her shiver.

After a long moment, she managed to ask, her voice strained, "Ma'am, what was… what was their older daughter's name?"

"Tamara," Rita said. "Her younger sister is Abbey. Their family lives in that red-brick bungalow at the far west end of town. Just head out of here and keep walking straight down the road to your right. You can't miss it."

Her mind buzzed.

The tension Victoria had been holding onto all this time finally snapped the moment she heard those two names. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line, and she could barely register what Rita was saying anymore.

She stood up and walked toward the exit.

"Miss…" Rita started to say something else, but Victoria was already out the door.

The red-brick bungalow at the far west end of town.

Rita's words echoed in Victoria’s ears.

She was wearing plenty of clothes, and the snow wasn't heavy, yet she felt a deep chill run through her entire body.

She didn't know how long she walked.

In the distance, a red-brick bungalow stood out starkly against the white snow.

As she focused, she saw the funeral decorations hanging on the front door and the enlarged black-and-white portrait in the main room. The urge to move forward vanished, and her steps faltered. Her slightly frozen hands slowly clenched into fists.

The person in the photograph was Tamara.

Six years had passed, but Tamara in the photo didn't seem to have changed much, except for the lifelessness in her eyes and the slight hollowness of her cheeks. She was smiling, but it was a smile that radiated sorrow.

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