On the same day she officially received her divorce certificate, she went live across global platforms—publicly announcing her divorce.
This time, she would make Quincy pay the price he deserved!
…
One night, at a corporate dinner, drunk and disoriented, Alannah stumbled into Quincy outside the hotel.
He looked disoriented, like someone had drugged him. Without warning, he grabbed her, dragged her into his Maybach, and pressed her down beneath him.
She could have pushed him away.
But he had been her girlhood dream—the cool and noble man every debutante in Los Angeles yearned for.
When it was over, he sobered up. He stared at the bloodstains on the backseat, and after a long silence, he finally said, “I’ll take responsibility.”
They married. Then, one day, Alannah accidentally discovered a secret room in his study.
Inside were hundreds of photos of other women.
And behind every photo, his handwriting filled the page with confessions of his obsession.
That was when she realized the horrifying truth. To Quincy, she looked exactly like Coraline, his late lover.
As she stepped out of the secret room, his voice came coldly from behind her.
“Alannah. Were you and my mother conspiring to lie to me?”