Annabelle’s eyes widened as she glared at Maria. If she had a knife, she might have been tempted to use it against her. “Let her go,” she demanded, though Matthew was unwilling to believe that Annabelle truly had no knowledge of Dolores’s whereabouts, merely based on Maria’s words.
Their collaboration was built solely on self-interest, and their trust in each other was weak. It was easy to turn them against each other, and obtaining information from them wasn’t difficult either.
“Bitch, how can you be so sure that I don’t know?” Annabelle growled. If she wasn’t held back, she would have pounced on Maria and torn her apart. As Matthew had suspected, their alliance was driven by their individual desires and personal gain. Now that they were at odds, any concern for each other had vanished. They seemed to desire nothing more than the other’s demise.
“I followed your brother when he took her away. You’re foolish to think otherwise. Did you believe you were the only one with a backup plan? I have one too!” With Beulah, her sole family, now gone, she had to rely on her own cunning to survive in this world. She couldn’t afford not to plan ahead.
Boyce and Armand exchanged a glance, each woman lost in her own thoughts. Matthew’s scheme to pit them against each other had indeed worked. Matthew’s fingers curled slightly, but he kept them from clenching. “Whoever reveals Dolores’s whereabouts first will live,” he declared.
“Me.”
“I’ll do it.”
They almost spoke simultaneously, then looked at each other with mutual loathing, each hoping the other would perish. “Dolores was taken to Shunbei Village, not far from City B, by Sampson…” Annabelle blurted out, attempting to outpace Maria. Their relationship, devoid of trust and based solely on self-interest, crumbled in the face of personal gain.
Matthew had already walked away, uninterested in hearing the rest of Annabelle’s words. Armand quickly followed him. Boyce glanced at the two men in the corner and commanded, “Release her.”
“Won’t they fight?” It was evident that the two women were now enemies. Boyce smiled. “Their lives are in their own hands. Gather some people and come with me.” Both men understood his meaning and released Annabelle. They exited the interrogation room with Boyce, locking the door behind them as they reached the entrance.
The moment Annabelle regained her freedom, she lunged at Maria, pounding her with rage. “Bitch, die! How dare you betray me!” Maria was even angrier, seething with fury. “Idiot! Matthew is trying to turn us against each other. We might still have a chance to survive if you refuse to talk. Do you think you’ll live after revealing everything?”
Annabelle was taken aback, but her rage still consumed her. She choked Maria tightly, yelling, “If you hadn’t betrayed me, I could still be by his side. It’s because you broke your promise and betrayed me first! How dare you accuse me!”
Humans possess infinite potential when consumed by extreme rage, as was happening now. Although Maria was badly injured and struggled to breathe, she summoned an unbelievable strength, pushing Annabelle off her with a force from her waist. She pinned Annabelle down and gripped her hair tightly, shouting, “I didn’t betray you. He knew long ago that you’re not Dolores!”
Annabelle felt her scalp nearly tear apart, gritting her teeth in pain. She retorted with a ferocious glare, “You think I’ll believe you? If you hadn’t told him, how could he have known? Does hehave some superpower to discern that?”
Maria was startled. Yes, even she couldn’t tell that she was an imposter just by looks alone. How did Matthew manage to figure it out so quickly? What kind of connection did he truly share with Dolores? Lost in thought, Maria regained her composure and once again gained the upper hand. “Even if I didn’t reveal it before, you just betrayed me now, and I heard it with my own ears!”
Annabelle snatched at Maria’s hair and forcefully slammed her head onto the ground. “How dare you grab my hair? Die, you bitch!” Maria’s mind went blank from the impact, her body numb with pain. Her brain felt as if it was about to spill out of her skull. Desperately, she struck the floor with her hands, hoping to attract attention and be saved. But today, no one would come in, and no one would come to her rescue. She wanted to fight back, but she had no energy left.
“Die, you bitch.” Annabelle seemed to relish every blow, oblivious to whether Maria lived or died. She only wanted vengeance for the betrayal. “Anna… belle, if I’m dead, you won’t live either…”
“Didn’t you want to kill me? You’ll die first!” Annabelle smirked ferociously. Maria’s head spun, feeling as if it might shatter. The deranged figure in front of her grew increasingly blurred. She wondered if her end was near, clinging to her last ounce of will to survive. Suddenly, she snatched Annabelle’s hair and exerted all her strength to pull her down. Annabelle screamed in pain, giving Maria the opportunity to yank her dress ribbon and strangle her with it.
The face, an exact replica of Dolores, contorted with the same deep-seated hatred. Maria’s bloodshot eyes fixated on Annabelle as she tightened the ribbon around her neck. Annabelle moaned, her eyes rolling back, tongue struggling to call for help, but only managing feeble groans.
“You’re too weak to end me!” Maria’s sanity seemed to crumble. “Die, both of you, Dolores and Annabelle. You can’t compare to me…” She laughed maniacally. After a while, Annabelle ceased her struggles. Maria, devoid of strength and consciousness, collapsed.
Meanwhile, Matthew led the way to Shunye Village. Armand and Boyce trailed behind him, accompanied by their men. As they arrived, Boyce swiftly directed his men to surround the village. Shunye Village was modest, consisting of just two rows of houses, tucked away in seclusion. Many had migrated in search of better opportunities elsewhere, leaving the village desolate. Only a handful of people were seen along the way.
“Search every house. There are only a few families left here. I refuse to believe Sampson could hide in a mouse hole.” Boyce’s indignation and disdain for their actions were evident. Matthew paid him no mind, embarking on his own search, stepping along the muddy road riddled with potholes. He yearned to find and lay eyes on her as soon as possible, hoping to be the first to see her.
Their search through half the village yielded no success. Dolores and any trace of her remained elusive. They entered the yard of another brick mansion. The owner seemed aware that they were in search of someone, as news of their arrival and the commotion they caused had spread. The owner had been informed by a neighbor even before they arrived.
The village head soon appeared. “Are you looking for this woman?” a middle-aged woman spoke up. She had dark skin, as someone who had toiled in the fields. Villagers didn’t concern themselves much with skincare, and she fit the image of a typical village woman. “I saw her from Bess’s balcony at the end of the village. She’s a beautiful woman, but I’ve never seen her leave.”
“Where is she?” Matthew’s heart nearly confirmed that the woman described was Dolores. “Take us there, and we’ll reward you with 100, 000 yuan if we find her,” Armand enticed. The middle-aged woman hesitated, her gaze shifting between them. They were dressed in suits and leather shoes, things she had only seen on TV. Those cars they arrived in looked expensive, and city folk often referred to them as luxury cars. The idea of easily receiving 100, 000 yuan stirred her deeply.
Moved by the offer, she agreed. Her husband was the sole provider, and she did menial farm work at home. Their family relied on meager income and was one of the poorest in the village. Even Bess, a widow, was wealthier than them. The allure of the money was overpowering. “Follow me, it’s not far from here.”
Boyce ordered the men to continue guarding the village, strictly forbidding anyone from leaving. He then followed the woman to the end of the village. The two-story white house soon came into view. Matthew’s gaze fixated on the second-floor balcony, as the woman had described. The breeze rustled the curtains, yet he couldn’t find the figure he longed for. The closer he got, the more unease settled within him.
“Bess,” the woman called, patting the metal gate. “Bess, are you in there? Please open the door…” Before she could finish her plea, Armand and Boyce forcefully kicked the gate open in unison. The woman gasped, startled by their aggressive actions, wondering if they were some kind of violent gangsters.
“You’ll scare them away with all that noise and shouting,” Armand chided the woman, casting a brief disapproving glance her way. “No, no, the windows in this house are all fitted with strong anti-theft measures. If she’s inside, there’s no way she can escape,” she quickly clarified. She didn’t want to offend Armand, as he didn’t seem like someone to be trifled with.
Matthew took the lead and entered the house. It wasn’t a large dwelling, but it was tidy. Just as the woman had described, it seemed almost impossible to escape, with reinforced windows on all sides, except for the balcony on the second floor and the ground floor window. His fingers trembled slightly. Was Dolores being held captive here?
He stepped into the living room, which was modest in size. The furnishings were simple, and everything appeared to be in order. The house was eerily silent, indicating that either nobody was present, or someone was hiding, their breathing carefully masked.
Boyce’s attention was drawn to a bloodstain on the couch, causing him to furrow his brows. However, he refrained from making any comments or drawing Matthew’s attention to it. Armand nudged him, prompting a reaction. “What are you trying to hide?” he whispered. Boyce shot him a sharp glare. “Nobody’s hiding anything,” he silently vowed to himself, frustrated that he hadn’t been observant enough and irritated that Armand was needlessly keeping an eye on him instead of searching for Dolores.
Their small altercation successfully captured Matthew’s notice. He glanced in their direction and noticed the dried bloodstain on the couch. His gaze darkened, as if he was staring into an abyss. Worried that he might dwell on it too much, Boyce spoke up, attempting to downplay its significance. “That could be Sampson’s blood, or even Bess’s, but it can’t be Miss Flores’s…”
Matthew was too impatient to entertain such speculation and proceeded directly to the second floor. As he ascended the stairs, he noticed a faint trace of blood, barely visible, but enough to stir his emotions. His pace quickened. There were only two rooms on the second floor-one closed, and one wide open, allowing a single glance to reveal its contents.
Sampson had left in haste. The door was left ajar, and the room remained in disarray, just as it had been when he carried Dolores away. The mattress was askew, the bed in disarray. Despite the simple furnishings, Matthew’s keen eye caught a faint bloodstain on the wall. The gown hanging on the chair was the same one Dolores had been wearing on the day she vanished.
She had been living here. Whose blood stained these walls? What had transpired within these walls? Matthew dared not let his mind wander further…
Suddenly, Armand sprinted upstairs, shouting, “We’ve apprehended Bess…”