[Warning: This Chapter contains Explicit Graphic Violence]
"Mother! Father!" the young, beautiful black-haired girl scread, her voice cracking as it echoed through the grand room.
She stood trembling before the older couple at the far end, desperation etched across her face. "You can’t possibly do this to ! I am your real daughter!"
Her finger shot forward, pointing straight at the red-haired girl standing beside them. "She’s a fake! She must have tampered with the DNA test results! She only wants your money! Our family’s money!"
"Anna," the older woman said calmly. "I know this must be a terrible shock for you. But your father and I made absolutely certain the results were legitimate. We repeated the tests many tis, consulted multiple experts in the field, and verified everything thoroughly. There is no mistake."
She reached out and gently wrapped an arm around the red-haired girl beside her. The sternness on her face softened instantly, replaced with unmistakable affection.
"Hanna is our real daughter, and you are not," she said. "Our poor Hanna has endured a lonely, miserable life all these years because of the evil woman who is your true mother, who dared swap you with my Hanna in the hospital the mont you two were born."
Anna’s legs gave out beneath her. Her knees struck the floor as she collapsed, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at the couple she had called her parents her whole life.
"No... no... no, this can’t be true!" she cried, her voice breaking as sobs tore from her chest.
Then, in a sudden, horrifying shift, helplessness curdled into pure rage.
With a scream, Anna launched herself toward Hanna. She yanked a sharp knife from the hidden pocket of her coat in one swift motion, her face contorted with madness.
"Die!" she shrieked. "You impostor! You fake! I am the one and only true heiress of this family! Die and rot in hell!"
The blade plunged straight into the center of Hanna’s chest.
Hanna’s eyes widened in shock as her face drained of color. Blood burst forth, splattering across the older couple’s horrified faces, as well as Anna’s.
The poor red-haired girl staggered once before collapsing to the floor, her body going limp as her own blood spread rapidly across her blouse and spilled from her lips.
Behind Kaija, Karl suddenly burst into tears.
Onscreen, the older couple were screaming and lunging toward their real daughter, now lying unconscious on the floor, and their crying only seed to make Karl’s body trembled harder. His shoulders kept shaking as tears slid down his baby-soft face, despite his attempts to wipe them away with the tissues clenched tightly in his hand.
Dark lines ford beneath Kaija’s eyes. This had to be at least the tenth ti he’d broken down since the beginning of this ultra-cheesy, painfully predictable movie now.
Although the movie had nearly lulled Kaija to sleep, especially during dramatic monts like this, every ti a character shouted sothing shocking or hurled an insulting line, Karl gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as though he’d been personally wounded by the dialogue, as deeply affected as the characters themselves.
And yet, Karl had claid he’d watched this movie no fewer than twenty tis before.
If that were true, how could he still react like this every single ti, as if he had no idea what was coming next?
"You need more tissues?" Kaija asked, lifting the packet toward him.
"Yes... please..." Karl sobbed, pulling three tissues out in quick succession and wiping his face.
Contrary to what Kaija had thought would happen when Karl pulled her into his arms, he reached instead for the large blanket and wrapped it around both of them.
As the movie’s opening credits continued to roll across the wall, he snuggled her closer, leaning back against the plush throw pillows. Then he tugged the thick blanket up to her neck, settling them into a warm, comfortable position.
The mont the movie began, his overexcited voice sounded over her shoulder again. "You have to pay close attention to every line and every scene, alright? This movie will blow your mind in ways you could never imagine."
Now, two and a half hours later, she was still waiting for her mind to be blown.
"What’s the point of this movie again?" she asked, raising a brow.
"The point is!" he exclaid with a sniffle, still wiping tears from his face. "Haven’t you seen how poorly Hanna has been treated throughout the entire movie, while that horrible girl Anna gets to enjoy all the love and luxury that rightfully belongs to Hanna?
"And yet that Anna girl still stabs Hanna before Hanna could live a single happy day with her real parents, as if Hanna hasn’t suffered enough already! But the good thing is, Anna has to go to jail for her cri and face punishnt for her petty, ugly soul!
"What the movie is trying to say is that, in the end, evil will inevitably be punished, and the kind-hearted will get back what is rightfully theirs, no matter what disgusting odds life throws at them. You get it now?"
Kaija’s brow drew together in thought. As much as she understood Karl’s point, she still couldn’t help feeling bad for Anna.
Anna had lived her entire life in luxury, had loving parents, was about to inherit her family’s wealth, and had a bright future ahead of her, only for it all to be ripped away one day by another naless girl who appeared out of nowhere.
Who wouldn’t snap into that kind of murderous madness if they were in Anna’s position?
It wasn’t even Anna’s fault to begin with. It was her real, evil mother’s fault.
Still, during the scene where Hanna t her real mother for the first ti, Kaija felt sothing shift in her chest.
The stunned, yearning look in the mother’s eyes as she gazed at Hanna, as if she could recognize her daughter at a glance, without any test at all, before she caught herself staring so openly and reluctantly looked away...
Why did that look feel so familiar? As if she had seen it sowhere before, as if soone had once looked at her the sa way, yet she couldn’t rember who, or when.
Before Kaija could search her mory further, the movie plunged into yet another annoyingly cheesy, overly dramatic scene that made her want to squirm.
"Do you think Hanna will survive?" Karl asked over her shoulder, his tone calr now, no longer as emotional as before.
"I bet she will," Kaija replied flatly. "You already spoiled it when you said the kind-hearted will get what’s rightfully theirs in the end.
"Besides, people love happy endings these days, don’t they? There’s no point torturing the poor girl for two and a half hours if the director’s just going to let her die at the end.
"If that were the case, the audience would fall into a deep depression, and you definitely wouldn’t have rewatched it twenty tis."
"Tsk," Karl clicked his tongue. "You’re no fun to watch movies with."
"And your favorite movie is so predictable," Kaija muttered back. "Next ti, let pick the movie, alright?"
Karl suddenly went quiet behind her, his hands stiffening around her waist.
Sensing sothing was off with him, Kaija turned slightly to look over her shoulder. "What’s wrong?"
"Did you just say next ti?" he asked at last, his voice low as he dipped his head toward hers the mont she turned.
Startled, she shifted away slightly, only then realizing how easily that "next ti" had slipped out of her without any thought.
"I... I an—" she stamred, scrambling for a way to fix it.
But before she could find any excuse, his hand closed over her cheek as he guided her face back toward his, lips sealing over hers in a kiss he’d longed for since the mont she pushed him out of the elevator last night.
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