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Chapter 84

Author: Khalicy.P
last update publish date: 2026-06-08 14:30:48

VALENTINA

For a split second, pure fear consumed me, but then it transformed into a white-hot anger. Nobody was touching me, and nobody was killing Harold, not while I was standing there. I remember slowly nodding, pretending like I had finally given in to their disgusting wishes.

The leader smiled, thinking he had won. "Smart girl.”

He started walking toward me with a smug grin on his face. Big mistake.

My gaze moved sideways, my eyes locking onto one of the other idiots who had a heavy gun t
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    Harold’s POV“Oh, poor Harold... You want honesty, don't you? So let’s be honest.”I stared blankly at the woman I thought I had completely figured out by now. The air in the room felt entirely too heavy, pressing down on my lungs. My mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air before I could finally sum up the courage to force the words out. “Stop joking, Agatha. This isn’t funny.”“I’m not joking,” she said. Her tone was flat, completely matter of fact, lacking even a shred of hesitation.The dry, nervous laughter that escaped my throat died instantly, choking me. “What do you mean you’re not joking? Agatha, look at me and tell me she's lying. Tell me you had no hand in what happened to me and Deja.”Agatha shrugged elegantly, swirling the liquid in her cup as if we were discussing the evening weather. “I did. I planned the entire thing, Harold. I manipulated you. I lied to you from the very start. Valentina has always been telling the truth... and I am the mastermind behin

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    VALENTINA My throat felt dry, desperate for even a single drop of water. My wrists hurt from the ropes biting deep into my skin, and my head still pounded relentlessly from whatever they had used to knock me out cold. Every muscle in my body ached from being tied to this same damn chair for what felt like an eternity. I hated every inch of it. Every inch of this damned damp room. I hated the ropes digging into my flesh. I hated Agatha with every fiber of my being. I hated Harold and his smug face Most of all, though, I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about Horace. Did he know I was missing? Did he even care anymore? Or did he still believe I was the one who murdered Deja? The thought stabbed deeper than the ropes ever could, twisting like a knife in my chest. Lita growled inside me, her voice fierce and unyielding. “He’ll come.” I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the hard chair. “I don’t know.” “He’ll come,” she repeated, stronger this time. I wished I had her

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