“You’ll find out once you take a look inside,” Abbott said, seemingly oblivious to her panicked expression as he exited the car. But “Dolores” remained frozen in place. Why would anyone want to go to the detention center? “Abbott, don’t you dare play games with me. What’s your plan?”
“What could I possibly do to you? Mr. Nelson values you. Do you think I have the nerve to mess with you?” Abbott walked towards her, his gaze fixed on her uneasy but still composed facade. He sneered. “Weren’t you eager to meet Mr. Nelson? He’s right inside. So, why are you so afraid to enter? Do you feel guilty?”
“I… I’m not the guilty one, you are!” “Dolores” retorted, her guilt evident. “If you don’t believe me, you go first.” Abbott gestured politely, indicating that she should enter to showcase his “respect” for her. “Dolores” stared at him for a few seconds, then raised her head. “You better not deceive me, or you’ll regret it!” After uttering those harsh words, she stepped inside and asked, “Where is he?” Abbott led the way, walking ahead of her.
“Dolores” glanced around. She had been here before. Beulah Shawn had been incarcerated here, and she had paid her a visit. It was Beulah who had planted the idea of stealing the money in her mind. She had told her, “Annie, your father is a cruel man. If he could easily abandon his first wife back then, he could abandon you and me now. Now that I’m in prison, I fear that you’ll end up like Dolores if you stay at home any longer. I’ll give you your father’s secret password. Take the money and leave.”
Beulah had been cautious after living with Randolph. She knew he was heartless, prioritizing his own interests when he sent Dolores and Jessica away without a second thought. He had married Jessica for her dowry, and when he could no longer benefit from her, he discarded her without regard for their past relationship.
Thinking of Beulah, “Dolores” clenched her fists, her heart aching. Beulah was her mother, the one who had truly loved and cared for her. Realizing this, she became even more determined to stay by Matthew’s side. Without her mother’s sacrifice, she wouldn’t have what she had today. She couldn’t let her down. She couldn’t fail!
Meanwhile, she followed Abbott into the interrogation building. It wasn’t the same room as last time; this room was much larger. A pane of tempered glass divided the room into two sections. The inner space was used for questioning, while the outer space had seats for observers. When they reached the entrance, Abbott pushed the door open. “Dolores” hesitated before entering, peeking inside to make sure Matthew was there.
Armand pulled a chair for her, pretending not to recognize her true identity. He appeared enthusiastic and deferential as he scanned her from head to toe. “Miss Flores?” Boyce had informed him that she was an imposter. He was slightly taken aback upon learning this. He marveled at the advancement of today’s plastic surgery techniques. He had believed it nearly impossible for someone’s face to be exactly identical to another person’s through surgery, but as he examined her face, he silently marveled at the striking resemblance.
He surmised that she must have undergone multiple procedures on her body. Her figure had likely been modeled after Dolores’s; otherwise, she wouldn’t have such a slender waist. He couldn’t find a single flaw onher face. “What are you staring at?” “Dolores” furrowed her brow and asked, “Is there something on my face?” Armand laughed lightly. “No, your face is flawless, perfect.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She sensed an underlying implication in his words. She moved closer to Matthew and inquired, “Why did you bring me here? This place gives me the creeps.” Before Matthew could respond, Armand interjected, “To witness a spectacle.” He then placed a chair next to her and took a seat. “What kind of spectacle?” “Dolores” turned to him. Armand replied with a hint of intrigue, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Matthew remained silent throughout. The overhead lights cast a halo around his face, making it appear hazy, as if veiled in mist. The room’s door swung open once again. Boyce led the way, followed by two towering men dressed in black uniforms. They were supporting a person whose head was concealed by a black cover, unable to walk on their own.
“Dolores” gazed at the figure being dragged in and thought they bore a striking resemblance to Maria Herbert in terms of body shape. Her nerves began to tingle. Her suspicions were confirmed when Boyce removed the black cover, revealing Maria’s face. Maria had changed her clothes, and her wounds were no longer visible, but her expression was undeniably somber.
“Do you recognize her?” Armand drew nearer. “Dolores” shook her head, then nodded. She replied, “Yes, she kidnapped me, after all.”
“I suppose you still don’t know what Matthew detests the most.”
“What does he detest?” Her voice unwittingly quivered. Armand smirked. “He despises being deceived.” “Dolores” shuddered. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, you’ll understand when you see Maria Herbert. She lied to Matthew, claiming she lost the child after the car accident, but the truth is, she was never pregnant to begin with. The Herbert family begged for her mercy, allowing her to keep her pitiful life. But this time, not even Jesus can save her.”
“Dolores” grasped Matthew’s arm and pleaded, “Matthew, let’s go. I don’t want to witness this. It scares me.” Matthew furrowed his brow, lost in thought, his face revealing a subtle cruel expression. “I thought you weren’t so easily frightened? Don’t you want to see the person who harmed you get what they deserve?”
“I don’t. After all, I wasn’t really harmed,” replied “Dolores,” tightening her grip on his arm, causing wrinkles to form on his pristine suit. Matthew’s gaze fell upon her hand gripping his arm, and he lowered his eyes, his expression turning icy and sharp. Sensing his cold aura, “Dolores” instinctively released her hand, clenching her fists as if that were her only means of self-protection.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek reverberated throughout the room. “Dolores” turned her head and witnessed Boyce forcefully ripping out one of Maria’s fingernails. The nails were sensitive, and the excruciating pain was unimaginable.
Maria was thrown to the floor, twitching in agony. Blood dripped from her severed fingernail, forming a winding stream on the ground. Slowly, she lifted her head and locked eyes with “Dolores,” who immediately averted her gaze, unable to meet Maria’s bloodshot eyes. Overwhelmed with unease, she feared she wouldn’t withstand such cruel punishment and would end up confessing the truth-that she was not Dolores.
But her wish to avoid the sight was denied by Boyce. He placed the plucked fingernail before her and said, “Miss Flores, take a look. Isn’t it beautiful?” The fingernail rested on a white metal plate, still smeared with blood, repulsive yet leaving a profound impression on her.
“Take it away,” “Dolores” pleaded, curling up in great fear. “Why is Miss Flores so terrified of looking at something so exquisite?” Armand interjected, forcefully turning her head toward the plate. “No, no.” It was too horrifying. She wanted to escape. It was evident that “Dolores” had been traumatized.
Leaning closer to her ear, Armand whispered, “This is just the beginning. The most fascinating part of the show is yet to come. You must understand that there’s always a price to pay for one’s misdeeds, especially for those who underestimate their own capabilities while attempting to impersonate others. Their consequences are a thousand times worse than hers.”
“Indeed, this is nothing,” Boyce added, cooperating with Armand to further terrify “Dolores,” causing cold sweat to trickle down her spine. Her legs trembled, and her muscles tensed. With a parched throat, she stuttered, “You, you…” You’re demons. But she couldn’t bring herself to voice those words.
Armand smirked, disappointed at how easily she was frightened. They hadn’t truly made an example yet. Matthew intended to kill two birds with one stone. First, he wanted “Dolores” to witness the consequences of deceiving him. Second, he wanted Maria to see that while she endured her punishment, Annabelle would simply sit there, watching her suffer.
Mental torment was far more effective in breaking one’s spirit than physical torment. Of course, his ultimate goal was to extracta confession from their tormentors and ultimately uncover Dolores’s whereabouts.