Carolyn's POV:
Even though I pretended to be familiar with Adele, I had never seen my half-sister before.
When I woke up, I was already at the edge of a volcano. After I was rescued, Adele had already been imprisoned, so upon closer inspection, I didn't even know what she looked like.
After the forr king finished speaking, he discreetly glanced at , seemingly worried it might upset . But I had no reason to be angry. It was quite funny; I didn't even resent Adele.
Perhaps, during the kidnapping, I feared and hated her, but after all these years, as I walked alone through life, tasted nurous joys and sorrows, and witnessed countless farewells, I gradually began to understand the motivation behind her actions.
Her life was like a senseless third-rate opera-a birth abandoned by her mother, growing under the influence of enemies, an inner world filled with hatred, and a life manipulated by emptiness.
She seed formidable on the surface, but she was isolated and unsupported. No one cared for her, and no one needed her. The world rejected her and beca a mistake from beginning to end.
So, her hatred toward seed so natural. I was like a mirror reflection to her, living a life completely opposite to hers.
If I were in her position, I would probably do the sa as she did. No one in her situation could escape her fate. Madness was the only choice fate left her.
So, I wasn't surprised when she eventually exiled herself, becoming a forgotten lunatic. To her, it might have been a form of liberation. The flas of fate would never die out, but at least she could choose to ignore the pain and suffering.
My father also looked at with a complex expression-caution, guilt, pain, and a plea all mixed in his eyes.
I knew he couldn't remain unaffected. After all, she was also his daughter, carrying his blood. So, I acted as if I didn't notice anything and said, "I'll accompany you, Father. We still have so ti before the party starts."
My father lowered his gaze, seemingly afraid to look at , trying to say sothing but not finding the right words. At this mont, the forr queen stepped forward to ease the situation, saying, "You two go. I'll stay here. If you don't return before the party starts, at least two hosts will entertain the guests. It would be too impolite to have only Aldrich."
So, dressed in magnificent yet sowhat constrained formal attire, we were driven in the royal car toward the secret mansion where Adele was being held.
All the way, my father remained silent, his lips pressed together, his hands tightly clenched. I knew he was trying to hold himself together. The closer we got to our destination, the more tense he beca until we arrived at the mansion's entrance, where he hesitated and stopped.
The forr king gave him a questioning look, but my father carefully surveyed the surroundings, sighing.
"For so many years, I only saw her through video calls. Now that I can finally co to where she lives, I'm afraid," he bitterly smiled, condemning his own cowardice. "Oh well, what's the point of pretending now? It's true; I owe her all these years. I can't face her..."
The forr king just accepted his old friend's outpouring without comnting on the old friend's wild youth and evasiveness in mid-life. So, I had no way of knowing what he truly thought.
As a daughter, I respected and loved my father. I believed he was the greatest person in the world.
But—as a woman, when I stood in a third-person perspective, I was surprised to find myself indifferent to his current remorse. When he chose to avoid Adele, did he ever think that he would be tornted like this today?
I heard myself say calmly, "Don't worry, Father. Adele is already gone. Whatever you say, she won't feel anything. So, don't be afraid; she won't care about your attitude toward her. She doesn't care about anything anymore."
My voice wasn't loud, but it hit the gentlen present like thunderbolts, leaving them all stunned. My father looked at , seemingly trembling, as if the invisible lashes were already unbearable.
I didn't know why I suddenly beca so indifferent, maybe because this place was too desolate, it unconsciously brought into the perspective of the only resident living here. What kind of life was it to be alone for over a decade? Ti flowed both quickly and slowly. Even if she went mad, could she really feel nothing about the rciless passing of the years? But I knew this kind of imrsion was absurd fantasy, so I imdiately snapped out of it, supporting my father, who was about to collapse, and said, "Let's go, it's getting windy outside."
The snow had stained my luxurious gown. The mansion was evidently long neglected, and the only passable path seed freshly cleared.
There were several small houses surrounding the mansion, where the guards stayed. Naturally, they couldn't secretly approach the queen's prisoner, let alone clean the mansion.
Finally, we arrived at the front of the house, and so guards had been waiting there, respectfully guiding us to et the mansion's sole prisoner.
For the first ti, I saw the appearance of my half-sister.
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