Chapter 1255:
“Alright,” Florrie replied softly, her voice tinged with both weariness and quiet resignation.
Ophelia helped her up, guiding her toward the hospital doors, but Florrie couldn’t resist one last glance around the lobby, as if something—someone—might appear from the crowd. But that familiar figure was gone, leaving her to wonder if her eyes had betrayed her once again.
She was determined to keep looking, no matter how many years it took.
Every year, she returned, traveling across the country in search of the girl who had vanished without a trace.
She had searched across the entire country, yet she refused to give up.
Something deep in her heart told her the child was still out there, still alive, waiting to be found.
And as long as she was still breathing, she would never stop searching.
The elevator doors slid open, and Christina stepped out.
As soon as her feet touched the floor, her gaze landed on Davina, her brow raised with concern.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her eyes dropping to Davina’s bandaged arm. “How bad is the cut? Is it deep?”
“It’s nothing. Didn’t even need stitches,” Davina said with a reassuring smile, brushing off Christina’s concern. “Relax, I’m fine.”
“Bullshit!” Christina gave her a sharp look, the edge of her worry still clear. “I warned you, over and over, to be careful. And yet you still—”
“Oh, come on!” Davina giggled, playfully clinging to Christina’s arm. “I just slipped up this time. I promise, no next time!”
“A next time?” Christina’s eyes narrowed into a sharp glare, her tone laced with a hint of frustration.
Davina let out a light laugh, her expression turning teasing. “Okay, okay—no next time.”
Christina’s gaze softened just a little, but she quickly shifted gears. “Did you get your mother’s ashes back?”
Your next story starts here gⱯlnσν𝒆ℓs․cøm
Davina’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of raw anger. “No,” she muttered, her voice tightening with disdain.
She quickly recounted what had happened, her words dripping with contempt.
“Those bastards… they won’t even let the dead have peace.”
Christina’s face hardened in response, her features turning as cold as stone. An icy, murderous aura seeped from her, chilling the air between them. What the Murrays had done was unspeakable—tormenting a soul even after death.
She’d never believed in ghosts or spirits. But what they’d done crossed the line. It was vile, twisted beyond measure.
Davina, oblivious to the storm swirling inside Christina, leaned casually into her, a satisfied glint in her eyes. “Don’t get too worked up. They’ll be begging for death.”
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