“You’ll have to get used to it,” Armand smirked and exchanged a glance with Boyce. “Go ahead and start your show, impress Miss Flores.”
“Speaking of being impressed, why don’t you come inside with me for a closer look? That would be even more thrilling.”
“No.” “Dolores” waved her hands, refusing to be touched by them. Did she have any right to decline now? Armand and Boyce exchanged glances, disregarding her resistance as they forcibly lifted her from the chair. She had to go, regardless of her protests.
“Do you know who I am? How could you do this to me?” “Dolores” struggled fiercely. “Let me go now.”
“Of course, we know exactly who you are. That’s precisely why we need to toughen you up. Matthew doesn’t want a weak and timid woman by his side,” Armand’s words silenced “Dolores.” Dragging her into the interrogation room, Boyce and Armand released her in front of Maria. Her shoes were stained with blood, and she tried to retract her leg, but Maria snatched it. Although Maria appeared feeble, her strength at that moment was astonishing.
“Let me go, please!” “Dolores” panicked, kicking around in fear, unintentionally striking Maria’s head. Maria’s vision blacked out momentarily. “How dare you kick me?” she snarled, blood staining her teeth. Her face turned ghostly pale and ferocious, like a creature crawling out of hell.
“No, I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry. You grabbed me first,” “Dolores” stammered in fear. Maria seemed inhuman, and Boyce, standing nearby, kicked her and said, “What’s wrong with getting kicked by Miss Flores?”
“Yeah, can’t you see your own strength? Did you think we wouldn’t dare to lay a hand on you just because you’re part of the Herbert family? How could you harm Miss Flores?” Armand arrogantly asserted. “You thought we wouldn’t dare to do anything to you when the Herbert family has your back? I’m not bluffing, but do you believe we’d even destroy the entire Herbert family if they dare plead for you?”
He intentionally glanced at “Dolores” as he spoke. “Right, Miss Flores?” “Dolores” didn’t dare utter a word. Even though Maria still had the support of the Herbert family, she was enduring these consequences. “Dolores” had no one to support her, and if her true identity were exposed… she didn’t dare contemplate the implications.
Maria, kicked to the ground, lay silent and in pain. Boyce’s recent kick had nearly taken her life. She felt utterly humiliated and helpless, while Annabelle, the impostor, was acknowledged and respected by Matthew’s two most trusted friends. It fueled Maria’s deep sense of injustice.
Consumed by rage, she coughed up blood, splattering it onto “Dolores’s” shoes. The warm blood touched her skin, causing it to itch. She was overcome with shock and let out a shrill cry. “Die, die!” “Dolores” calculatedly continued kicking Maria’s head, attempting to end her life. Only a dead woman could keep her secret. She couldn’t allow Maria to live-she couldn’t!
Boyce and Armand made no effort to stop her as she relentlessly attacked Maria’s head. They only pulled “Dolores” away when Maria was on the brink of losing consciousness. “Let go of me! I want to hurt her. She harmed me. She must die! Kill her for me, quickly-”
Maria had endured countless torments duringthe days of her captivity. She was half-dead and had no strength to fight back. If Boyce and Armand had pulled Annabelle away just a few minutes later, Maria would have perished. Did this woman want to kill her to protect her secret? Maybe the surge of hatred inside her had fueled Maria’s will to live. With her last breath, Maria growled, “You’re not Dolores!”
“Dolores” was taken aback, a shiver running down her spine. “You’re dying, stop talking nonsense. Let me end your life,” she retorted, pounding on Maria. But Armand restrained her. “What’s the rush? Let her speak. It’s quite interesting. She claims you’re not Dolores.” He approached her, scrutinizing her face from different angles, teasingly asking, “Could it be that this face is the result of plastic surgery?”
“Dolores” trembled, retorting, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m just joking, don’t take it seriously,” Armand smiled.
Maria clenched her fists, fearful that Armand had believed her words. “She really isn’t Dolores…” She paused, struggling to look up. Her gaze fixed on the man sitting in the chair outside the glass wall, silently observing everything as if he had complete control. At that moment, she understood his true intentions.
As soon as she was brought inside, Boyce plucked her nail, causing unbearable pain that clouded her thoughts. How could she forget that Matthew already knew the truth-that the woman before them was not Dolores? His purpose in bringing her here was simply to pit them against each other. Yet it was clear that Annabelle wanted her dead.
Maria managed a sorrowful smile. “How could I forget your tricks after following you for so long?” Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the thick blood. “I’ll tell you where Dolores is, but I have one condition.” Matthew, no longer content to observe, stood up and calmly approached her. “Dolores” stood dumbfounded at the side. What, what was she talking about?
Armand glanced at her pale face and snorted. “Dolores” shivered. Had Maria betrayed her already? Otherwise, how could Matthew know she wasn’t Dolores? After all, she was the only one who knew the truth. Filled with rage, she clenched her fists and pounded on Maria, who lay on the ground. Straddling her, she choked her. “Die, bitch!”
Boyce kicked “Dolores” away and barked, “Get the hell off!” He then shot a glance at the two men standing in the corner. “Get her.” They couldn’t let her ruin their plans here. Discovering Dolores’s whereabouts was crucial. Maria struggled to breathe, her body trembling slightly, but she remained silent when she coughed.
Matthew furrowed his brow. Boyce squatted down, gently patting her back. “She won’t die.” Though she was subjected to intense torture, they wouldn’t let her die. Boyce knew how to control the level of punishment. Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she would confess. Losing her would be a great loss.
“Tell us, where’s Dolores?” Boyce held her up. Maria sat on the ground, taking a moment to rest before slowly looking up at “Dolores,” whose movements had been restrained. Opening her bloody, parched mouth, she weakly uttered, “I can tell you, but I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
She emitted a bloodthirsty smile. “I want her dead!”
“You’re the one who’s gonna die, you bitch!” “Dolores” turned to Matthew, hastily explaining, “Don’t listen to her! I’m the real Dolores, I truly am. You’ll be deceived if you trust her words. Please, don’t believe her!”
“Shut her up!” Boyce scolded. How could she be so senseless? The two men exchanged glances, pondering how to silence her. They had nothing nearby, and one of the men finally sighed and stuffed his handkerchief into her mouth as she continued to speak.
Maria smiled. Her face was far from beautiful-it was horrifying. She looked at Annabelle and uttered, “Look at you, with the exact same face as Dolores, but utterly useless. Do you think Matt will keep you?” Annabelle widened her eyes, consumed by a fierce desire to strike and tear her apart.
Maria ignored her gaze, addressing Annabelle but implying somethingelse. “I suppose you don’t know where Dolores is either, since she was taken away by my brother that day. I have what Matt wants, but what about you?”