That night, two years ago, she insisted it was a setup, a mistake.
But it turned out she had planned it all along.
I sneered, my eyes drifting toward the window.
The resort sat on the far side of a mountain, part of the Archival family’s private estate, isolated and silent.
Rain pounded down in torrents as if trying to wash the whole world clean.
After a long moment of hesitation, I finally opened an umbrella and began descending the mountain path.
Primrose, I silently wished her a future overflowing with children and grandchildren.
As for me, I knew deep down we would never cross paths again.
“Primrose, look how much this child takes after you. Just like you were at his age as if he was carved from the very same mold.”
Elizabeth’s face lit up with joy as she cradled Alec in her arms.
The doctor had just finished the examination, and the needle hadn’t pierced deep, only grazing the surface. Thankful relief washed over us all.
Primrose stood watching the peaceful scene, her mind clouded and her chest tight with a strange irritation.
Her eyes flicked down to her phone. It was already eight in the evening.
She wondered if I had reached the resort yet.