Chapter 2He Spared My Parents’ Killer

I froze for several agonizing seconds.

The memory hit me like a physical blow. Because I had been out of the country for a specialized forensic training program, Richard was the one who accompanied my parents to purchase this house.

The only reason his name was the sole name on the deed was because my parents already treated him like their own flesh and blood.

"Richard grew up right before our eyes," my mother's gentle voice echoed in my mind. "He lost his parents in the line of duty, but he has always been so fiercely independent. I don't want a piece of real estate to make him feel inferior in this marriage."

That was it. They didn't want him to feel insecure about marrying into wealth!

My parents funded this bridal home to relieve his financial burden, not for him to turn it into a sanctuary for the daughter of the man who slaughtered them!

"Richard, I dare you to look at my parents' memorial portrait and say that again. What gives you the right to forgive their murderer on their behalf?" My voice was trembling uncontrollably.

"I am not forgiving him on their behalf. I am simply executing the law with a degree of human warmth."

He frowned, his face twisting with impatience. "Sylvia, you study the law too. Stop being so overly emotional. The verdict is final. We need to look toward the future."

His tone shifted into hard concrete. "My decision is final. I already had the housekeeper prepare the guest room for her."

Without another word, he escorted Jillian up the stairs, shielding her as if she were made of priceless glass.

This beautiful house was the last tangible piece of my parents I had left.

And now, it was infected by the daughter of my enemy.

If my parents knew the boy they had lovingly sponsored for a decade would turn out like this, how much agonizing regret would they feel?

I walked up to the second floor, my entire body shaking.

Under the warm glow of the guest room lamp, Jillian was twisting the hem of her shirt while Richard softly comforted her.

"Don't be scared. Treat this place like your own home from now on."

"Thank you, Richard. You are so good to me." Tears shimmered in her eyes. It was the exact kind of fragile, damsel-in-distress routine designed to trigger a man's savior complex.

Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I walked into the master bedroom, shoved a few clothes into a duffel bag, and walked out of that pathetic excuse for a "bridal home."

The moment I returned to the cramped dormitory at the forensic institute, I pulled out my phone and dialed Rowan. He was my senior from university, now a ruthless senior partner at a top-tier corporate law firm.

I was taking Richard to court. I was going to tear that house right out of his hands.

Over the next few days, Richard showed up at the institute a few times. His goal was always the same: to mentally beat me into accepting Jillian.

He told me how Jillian woke up before dawn every single day, scrubbing the house spotless. He constantly demanded I come back home.

He claimed that because of my unforgiving nature, Jillian was eaten alive by guilt and losing weight by the day.

When he spoke of her, his voice was dripping with undeniable heartache.

"Sylvia, Jillian never had a good life growing up. I just want her to feel a little warmth. You don't understand the psychological toll of being a poverty-stricken student. We cannot punish a child for the sins of adults."

Then, he tried to play the emotional manipulation card. "Just like what you did for me. I was a terrified orphan once too. I just want you to embrace Jillian the way you embraced me."

I looked at him with dead, vacant eyes. "Keep your guilt. I already filed the lawsuit, Richard. That house was bought with my parents' pre-marital assets. I highly suggest you start looking for a new apartment."

Richard turned purple with rage. He spun on his heel and stormed out without a single word.

A few days later, a colleague casually mentioned spotting Richard and Jillian at a high-end shopping district.

He was buying her designer dresses and the newest smartphone. He even drove two hours out of the city just to buy a specific pastry she casually mentioned craving.

One evening, I needed an old case file from my mother's forensic archives. After my shift, I drove back to the house.

As soon as my car pulled into the driveway, I noticed the lights in the study were on.

My mother had designed that study herself. After they passed, I had moved all of their personal belongings into that room and locked the door.

Who was in there?

The blood froze in my veins. I sprinted up the stairs to the second floor.

The heavy oak door was wide open.

And the sight inside instantly shredded whatever sanity I had left.