Chapter 79
"Sophia, what does she mean? What kidnapping? What trafficking?" Isabella frowned and was the first to speak up.
Sophia panicked. Her face turned deathly pale as she glanced at me, but she quickly masked her emotions, biting her lip as she answered with certainty: "I don't know what she's talking about. She's framing me. She deliberately found that person just to frame me. Gregory, I've already explained everything to you. You believe me, don't you?"
In a flash, she turned her glare on me: "Emily, what exactly are you scheming? Even if I offended you at first, I've apologized to you many times since then. Why do you keep making things difficult for me?"
Oscar's face darkened, and he looked sternly at the agitated Sophia, immediately defending her: "You'd better think carefully before you speak. What really happened isn't determined by one person's word alone."
Robert immediately chimed in: "Emily, why don't you tell us what this is all about?"
I put on an innocent expression: "Gregory knows about it, too. Didn't he tell you? The two of us happened to run into Ms. Brown meeting someone at a café yesterday. We overheard some of their conversation. It can't be fake, right, Gregory?"
Gregory kept his head down, saying nothing. So I recounted everything that had happened that day in detail. Looking at Sophia's pale face, I smiled slightly: "You say I deliberately found someone to frame you, but the one million dollars you were supposed to give him—I was the one who transferred it to him in the end. I don't need your thanks, but you shouldn't slander me either, should you?"
Charles looked at Sophia in disbelief, his expression complex. As for Isabella, her eyes had turned red: "You... you really sold Emma to Solstice? How could you be so cruel? She's your sister."
Sophia shook her head tearfully: "It's not like that. I didn't do it. She's deliberately framing me. That person works for her company, so of course, whatever she says goes. Mom, you have to believe me."
Anyone with a brain could figure out what the truth was.
I looked at the members of the Brown family, their faces showing nothing but anger. I'd thought my heart had long turned to stone, yet a dull ache still throbbed inside.
It struck me then... they weren't concerned about whether I lived or died. What truly unsettled them was their disbelief that Sophia could have done such a thing.
A pair of hands closed gently over mine, fingers curling until my hand was sealed inside his. He tightened his grip, as if anchoring me to the present, reminding me he was still here.
Oscar's eyes held a mocking smile: "Instead of agonizing over why she could be so cruel, you'd better hurry up and find out whether your biological daughter, who was sold to Solstice, is even still alive."
He emphasized the word "biological" heavily.
As Oscar's words fell, the room suddenly plunged into momentary silence.
Gregory immediately raised his head, looking at me with eager eyes: "Of course, Emma isn't dead. Didn't Emily see her? I asked you—is she doing well? You didn't say she wasn't doing well, did you? Now that everyone's here, Emily, tell Emma to come back. Everything can start over."
Oscar's expression turned darkened, his gaze sharp as he looked at Gregory: "You'd better watch how you address her."
Gregory opened his mouth, stumbled over the honorific, then said, "Please… just pass the message to her."
I smiled slightly, though my eyes were ice-cold: "So who do you think is actually telling the truth?"
Jasper's eyes lit up: "Ms. Wilson, I knew you must know Emma. We believe you. Once she comes back, won't everything be cleared up?"
I gave them a faint smile, studying each of their faces carefully. Not one of them showed any genuine concern for me.
"All you're saying now is for her to hurry back. Has anyone asked how she's been doing these past few years? Has anyone asked if she's willing to come back? Why hasn't she come back? Or better yet, shouldn't you ask whether she even can come back? Gregory, you say I didn't say she wasn't doing well, but do you think a woman who was sold, in that kind of place, could be doing anything close to well?" I kept smiling, but my voice trembled despite myself.
Isabella's tears finally fell. She came to sit beside me, reaching out to take my hand: "Then how is she now? How has she spent these three years? What would it take to bring her back? She's our daughter. No matter how much money it costs, I'm willing to pay."
I took a deep breath, looking at Sophia's pale face, and slowly withdrew my hand from Isabella's: "When I saw Emma, she really was in terrible shape. Her skin was festering, especially that hand—there was such a huge hole in it. Ms. Brown, I heard that was all your handiwork. Who would have thought you could be so cruel?"
"What?" Isabella's body swayed.
Sophia frantically shook her head in denial: "No, I didn't. Emma is making it all up."
I found a photo Paul had sent me on my phone, opened it, and placed it on the table.
In the phone image, the wedding dress I wore had hardly a spot of pure white left. My hands and feet were bound behind me, my eyes tightly wrapped in black cloth, my face covered in blood, with wound after wound, the pale red flesh exposed, looking gruesome and horrifying.
"Is... is this my Emma? How did she end up like this?" Isabella finally couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the phone from the table and broke down crying.
Charles couldn't bear to look and turned his face away, still maintaining a skeptical attitude toward me: "You say this is Emma. What proof do you have? I can't even tell who the person in the picture is."
I shrugged. "Anyway, I've shown you the photo. Believe it or not. But I'm really curious—is there really someone who would disregard their own biological daughter's life or death for the sake of someone they share no blood relation with?"
Oscar pulled me into his arms, the smile on his face now cold, his voice carrying a warning: "You can investigate. This matter now has nothing to do with Emily. When you discuss things, please don't target her. The one who should be questioned is Sophia, isn't it?"
Isabella held the phone up to Sophia's face, frowning as she asked: "Did you do this? Tell me the truth. Did you really sell Emma? Haven't we treated you well enough? How could you be so cruel?"
Sophia continued shaking her head: "It wasn't me. Mom, you have to believe me. I didn't do it. She's framing me. She and Emma are in this together. Yes, that must be it. Emma stole money from the family, so she doesn't dare come back. I want to confront her."
I took the phone back from Isabella, my fingers quickly pulling up a video. In the video, Sophia held a dagger, step by step approaching me as I lay in a corner, a grotesque smile clearly visible on her face.
"Don't get so worked up, Emma. My hand isn't steady. You keep moving around like this—look, the knife cut your face."
"Emma, I've fallen in love with Gregory. You don't mind if I take him too, do you?"
"Gregory said he's going back to marry you. But look at yourself now—you'd probably scare people to death if you went out. You two probably can't get married anymore, can you?"
In the video, Sophia wore that sweet smile as she slashed, one cut after another, viciously carving deep marks across my face. With each rise and fall of the blade, blood sprayed, gradually staining the pure white wedding dress red, until finally, she plunged the knife deep into my palm, piercing through to the ground beneath.