"I never said that I still like him." Delphine smiled faintly, her gaze coldly drifting toward the resplendent sunset in the distance. This beautiful South Seas dusk often brought her memories of a restless and wandering life—this extravagant red house, the handsome and stoic man inside, her own youthful and innocent face, and the child she had lost.
Later, these turned into her deepest nightmares.
She feared the darkness, her emotions barren, her heart as cold and sharp as a blade, yet she donned a mask of hypocrisy and returned to the South Seas.
"If one day he discovers that I used him and wants to put me to death, it's only my own fault—it's no one else's to blame," she said, looking at Leah, her gaze gentle yet tinged with unwavering resolve, speaking with chilling indifference.
If that day should ever come, it would almost be a form of release. Years of drifting and avoiding—she was exhausted.
