Chapter 226 Cunning and Crafty
When the night reached its deepest point, a faint light appeared.
Not moonlight.
The moonlight was blocked by thick clouds.
It was that faint grayish-white line on the distant horizon, like a shallow tear in the dark curtain.
Dawn was breaking.
The two cages in the living room showed blurry outlines in the grayish-white light.
Juniper had talked all night long, her throat scratchy as sandpaper.
She was too excited to sleep.
She had spilled every word she could think of.
Isla never responded, curled up in the other cage like a corpse.
This silence was more disturbing than any curse—because Juniper got no reaction at all.
It felt like someone had taken away her center stage, and she could no longer be seen.
When sunlight came through the window, she finally felt tired.
All the excitement faded, like coming out of anesthesia.
The wounds on her body started to hurt.
Her broken nose throbbed, her shattered left hand was swollen like a balloon, and the empty spot in her gums burned with sharp pain.
She licked the gap, her tongue tasting the metallic tang of blood.
"Godmother."
She called out tentatively.
No response.
Juniper suddenly felt a bit panicked—not afraid that Isla would escape, but afraid she had died just like that.
That way, she wouldn't even have her last companion.
"Godmother, say something."
Still no sound.
The cage Dylan had specially made for her was so cramped she couldn't turn.
She tried several times but couldn't even turn her head.
Just as she was about to call out again, a very faint sound came from behind her.
Like rapid breathing, or like suppressed crying.
Juniper felt relieved—at least she was alive.
"Godmother, don't think too much." Her voice lowered, "You're old anyway, you don't have many years left."
A short laugh came from Isla's side.
Very brief, impossible to read its meaning.
Juniper frowned, "What are you laughing at?"
Isla didn't answer.
After a while, her voice drifted over from the shadows.
"Beatrice..."
Juniper paused.
Isla continued, "Isabella..."
Juniper laughed—was she confessing?
Confessing to whom?
Isla laughed again, this time longer, but it sounded like crying.
"Did you ever hate me?"
Juniper let out a long breath.
She was finally no longer a lump of dead flesh.
"Don't worry," Juniper said with a soft laugh, "your two daughters were the biggest idiots in the world. Even if they died, they wouldn't blame you."
"They're both dead, not one left."
Isla didn't respond.
After a long time, so long that Juniper thought she had fallen asleep again, she finally said faintly, "Not one left."
Juniper leaned forward awkwardly, "Godmother, do you regret it?"
Isla said, "Am I allowed to regret?"
Her voice grew quieter and quieter, so low it was like talking to herself.
"I'm sorry to Beatrice... sorry to Isabella..."
Juniper froze.
This was the first time she'd heard Isla say such things.
That woman who had always been kind and gentle in front of her, who always treated her like a treasure—that woman she had fooled completely, but who never doubted her.
She was actually confessing.
Juniper didn't know how to respond.
Because she had never thought about what would happen when the truth was revealed.
None of this was going as she expected.
If she were still outside, Isla would never see her other side.
She had many ways, just like with Benjamin.
She could make sure she would never speak.
But this time was different—the decision wasn't in her hands.
Upstairs.
William stood by the window, looking at that light on the horizon.
He had stood like this all night.
Isabella lay on the recliner, sleeping peacefully.
She really wouldn't be in pain anymore.
Only the living suffered more.
Those memories kept spinning in his mind.
The harsh words he'd said, the way he used to treat her.
William closed his eyes.
He remembered many years ago, when Isabella had just married into the family.
He saw her standing in the yard, basking in the sun. The sunlight fell on her, and she turned to smile at him.
What did he do then?
He didn't dare to think about it.
Later, she never basked in the sun in the yard again.
William opened his eyes, looking at that light outside the window.
The light grew brighter and brighter.
He suddenly spoke, his voice very soft, "Isabella, a new day has begun."
No one responded.
"Don't blame me, and don't be afraid."
"You're safe now."
He paused.
"This is what they deserve."
His eyelashes trembled slightly.
"When... when all this is done, I won't meet you in another world."
"Even though I won't be there, many people will be with you."
Wind squeezed in through the window gap, moving a corner of the sheer curtain.
William didn't look back.
"You won't be alone anymore."
His voice grew quieter and quieter, almost inaudible:
"Beatrice, Ambrose, Donny, Thomas..."
"Except... except William."
"William will go to hell."
In the distance, the rising sun broke through the clouds, climbing higher and higher.
Downstairs.
Juniper curled up in the cage, feeling the warmth of the sunlight.
The light shone on her, sinking into her wounds, shining on her bald scalp.
The butler started bustling about, footsteps passing by her intermittently.
She was a bit afraid of daybreak.
She remembered what William had said before, "Cut off the ears and sew them onto the head."
Juniper had waited all night for this moment.
Now it was getting closer and closer—William would come downstairs soon.
Her heart grew more and more anxious.
That feeling of a blade hanging over her neck made it impossible to stay calm.
Juniper suddenly spoke, "Godmother, do you want to get out?"
Isla didn't move.
Juniper continued, "I have a way."
Isla finally lifted her head, looking at Juniper's back.
Revealing that face washed by tears, makeup dissolved, aged years overnight.
"What way?"
Her treatment was much better than Juniper's—William hadn't made things difficult for her yet.
Juniper's lips curved into a smile, that smile looking especially eerie on her broken face.
"What does he want most?"
Isla shook her head.
Juniper answered her own question, "He wants Isabella to come back to life."
Isla fell silent again—even a fool knew that was impossible.
"If Isabella can't come back to life, then he can only settle for less—make those who hurt Isabella suffer."
She twisted her body, whether it was a natural reaction or intentional.
"Do you understand now?"
Isla looked at her in confusion, her lips moving but saying nothing.
Juniper continued, "You're my Godmother, you're the person he hates most."
"But I can protect you."
She paused, lowering her voice, "As long as we two are still together, I have a way to help you escape."
Isla's eyes slowly widened.
Juniper smiled.
"Godmother, even though I did a lot of wrong things before, this time I really want to help you."
"I owe you something."
Isla looked at Juniper, not knowing what she was going to do—but feeling an ominous premonition in her heart.
Upstairs, William finished combing Isabella's hair and lifted her into the wheelchair.
He placed a kiss on her lips, lingering before pulling away.
"Isabella."
His voice was very soft.
"A new day has begun, let's go."
"Your family must miss you very much."