Chapter 170
When Alan's name was mentioned, Gregory, who had been holding Grace's hand, suddenly froze. His face turned deathly pale as he looked at me, then followed my gaze to Alan standing before him, his eyes filled with shock and uncertainty.
Alan's smile remained unchanged, looking innocent: "Emma's right. I've been talking all this time and forgot to introduce myself. Have you all... really forgotten me?"
Grace, who had been crying with tears still wet on her face, instantly switched from grief to terror, her voice trembling: "What are you saying? You're... Alan? That's impossible. Didn't you just say you were Alan's friend? How can you be Alan?"
Alan looked at her panic with satisfaction, walking toward her step by step, looking down at her: "What I said was, if your other son were still alive, I wonder how he'd feel seeing you like this. I feel sorry for him. Of course, I mean I feel sorry for my useless self. As for me personally, seeing you all so miserable now, I'm relieved."
William instinctively stepped back, his face full of disbelief: "Impossible, you... you're supposed to be dead. How can you be Alan? I collected his bones myself. You're not him. He didn't look like this."
Alan's smile gradually twisted as he grabbed his shirt and ripped it open: "Then what should I look like? Dear father, you tell me—even if I were alive, shouldn't I look like this?"
Beneath his clothes, all the hidden skin looked like shriveled, rotten fruit, wrinkled beyond recognition, even restricting his arm movements.
Grace and William couldn't help but gasp. I was also shocked, but a pair of hands instantly covered my eyes, preventing me from seeing more.
When Oscar removed his hands from my eyes, I saw Alan's eyes were red, his voice cold: "Surprised to see this? Isn't this your gift to me? Ugly, isn't it? I think it's ugly too, but the doctor said the area was too large to treat. The only good skin I had left went to this face. Not an inch more to spare."
Grace quickly shook her head: "Impossible. Alan is dead. You can't be him. Who are you really? Why are you pretending to be our son?"
Alan burst out laughing: "Your son? I called you mom for so many years, and you really thought you were my mother? Have you forgotten what you did? You put on a show in front of me, not only having people rape my birth mother, but also drugging me to make me do those things to you. That was the first time I learned what a woman is capable of when she's ruthless. Grace, you calculated everything so well. If I didn't have a strong mind, I would've become mentally ill even if I hadn't burned to death, right?"
Grace waved her hands frantically: "No, you must have misunderstood something. It wasn't me. It has nothing to do with me. Wasn't I good to you? Alan, from childhood, I had high hopes for you. In the end, my biological son was taken away by that woman. Shouldn't I hate her? All the love I should have given him for the first twenty years, I gave to you."
Alan looked at her coldly: "Isn't that your karma?"
His gaze fell on William: "And you, you bastard, you should have died long ago. You living these extra ten years was too good for you."
He then turned to Gregory, walking up to him step by step, his eyes fixed on him like knives: "All the pain inflicted on me, today I'm taking back a hundred times over."
Gregory kept backing away with his steps, terror almost overflowing from his eyes, which were wide open, his lips trembling: "Are you... are you... human or ghost?"
Alan's eyes flashed with a vicious smile: "To you, I'm probably scarier than demons from hell, right?"
Finally unable to bear the pressure, Gregory screamed in terror, covering his head and trying to rush outside in panic. But blocked by people with nowhere to go, he cowered in a corner, curling himself into a small ball: "Alan, please let me go. I was wrong. I really didn't mean it. I didn't want to kill you. Please, let me go."
I looked up at Oscar. He discreetly pushed my wheelchair aside to keep me from any harm.
It seemed that part of what Alan said earlier was true—at least, it was fourteen-year-old Gregory who pushed Alan into the fire.
I could never have imagined that the lonely-looking boy hiding in the corner back then could do something so cruel. Or perhaps his evil had been in his genes from the start.
Alan kept smiling: "Let you go? When I was shouting for you to open the door, did any of you let me go? Want to beg for mercy? Then kneel."
"I'll kneel." Gregory dropped to his knees with a thud, saying to Alan: "I'm already kneeling, Alan. I really know I was wrong. Ever since you died, I've had nightmares every night for years. I'll do whatever you want, just please let me go."
Alan raised his eyebrows, looking at Gregory with satisfaction, then casually turned his gaze to William and Grace, the corners of his mouth turned up, but his eyes held no trace of a smile: "What about you two? Want to live too?"
William frowned and scolded: "Alan, I'm your father. You want me to kneel? What's wrong with you?"
Alan sneered: "You think you deserve that?"
William's face flushed red, breathing heavily: "Why don't I deserve it? I raised you for over twenty years, and you had someone rape your mom. Someone like you deserves to die a thousand deaths."
My eyes widened in shock. So the things Alan just accused Grace of—was this what he meant?
"Shut up." Alan seemed to have lost control. "You're my dad, but ever since you found out about my background, you never believed me again. At the company, you gradually took back all my authority. At home, everything I did was wrong. Did you ever think that I still considered her my mom then? How could I possibly do such a thing?"
William glared, "Gregory and I saw it with our own eyes. How could it be fake? It's in your genes to be low-class. Your mom was like that, and so are you."
Alan grabbed an ashtray nearby and smashed it hard into William's forehead. Blood instantly trickled down from his temple. He instinctively covered it with his hand, about to lunge forward in grief and rage: "You bastard..."
But as soon as he moved, someone pinned him firmly to the ground, making him unable to move.
Alan walked up viciously, squatting down to tell him. "You don't deserve to mention my mom. If anyone's a bastard, it's you, the rapist, and her, that vicious bitch."