Chapter 72
Chapter 72
A while later
“This can’t be... This guy’s too sneaky,” Nathan muttered, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen showing the latest report from the digital tracking team.
Mira nodded, her expression just as frustrated. “He erased the trail before we could identify the last IP point. We were close to finding the exact location, but somehow, the account just vanished. All the records disappeared—like a ghost.”
“This guy’s no amateur,” Nathan said, rubbing his tired face. “It’s clearly the work of someone who knows how to hide their identity... or someone with help from a cyber insider.”
Elena stood at the far end of the room, arms wrapped around herself. Her gaze was blank, fixed on the buildings outside—the same buildings that once symbolized her glory, but now seemed to mock her.
“We almost had him, but we failed,” Mira said quietly.
“That means he’s still one step ahead of us,” Elena replied in a low voice, her tone like mist over an open wound. “But not for long. People like him always slip up eventually. And when that happens, I’ll be standing there—looking him in the eye, reminding him he chose the wrong enemy.”
Later That Afternoon
The gray afternoon sky loomed as Elena opened the door to her apartment. The air was quiet, but tension was thick. Damian stood in the center of the room, wearing a suit, his face stern. Isabella sat casually on the couch, playing with her phone, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
“Elena,” Damian began, his voice heavy. “I’m only going to ask you once. Please answer me honestly.”
Elena removed her coat in silence, hanging it carefully. She didn’t answer right away.
“Alva. Is he... really my son?” Damian asked. One sentence—loaded with pain and suspicion.
Elena turned her head. Her eyes were tired, but resilient. Then she smiled faintly—not a joyful smile, but a bitter one filled with quiet heartbreak.
“You only thought to ask that after the world tore me apart?”
“Elena, ANSWER ME!” Damian raised his voice.
Isabella smirked wider. “See? Even Elena doesn’t dare to answer. Maybe she’s not sure who the father is. Or maybe... there were just too many.”
Elena walked to the kitchen table and calmly poured herself a glass of water. She sipped slowly, unfazed by the interrogation.
“Elena, I need clarity. If the child isn’t mine, I have a right to know. I don’t want to be blinded by you any longer,” Damian said.
Elena set the glass down and met Damian’s eyes. “You know what’s really sad, Damian? It’s not your accusation. It’s that you chose to believe outsiders—the gossip-driven world—over the woman you once loved, the woman you trusted, who carried your child.”
“That’s not an answer,” Damian snapped.
Elena laughed softly. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from amusement—it was the kind that came from exhaustion. “And you think you deserve an answer now? After you crushed my dignity, called me cheap, and questioned the blood of the child that grew in my womb? You don’t deserve the truth.”
“Elena—” Damian tried again, but she brushed past him without another glance.
“Please leave,” she said flatly. “Both of you.”
Damian looked like he wanted to argue, but Elena had already disappeared behind her bedroom door.
Isabella stood and walked over, grabbing Damian’s arm. “Let it go, Damian. You saw it yourself, right? She didn’t even deny it. Maybe it’s true—maybe she’s hiding something.”
Damian stared at the closed door of Elena’s room, doubt creeping in. But when he saw Isabella’s victorious smile, his mind was once again clouded by poisonous thoughts.
“Let’s go,” Isabella whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.
They walked away, and the apartment door closed softly behind them.
Inside the room, Elena stood by the window. A single tear rolled down her cheek. But only one. She didn’t cry—not anymore.
Her hand reached for her phone. She typed a message.
I’m ready to go to extremes. Find the perpetrator.
Elena wouldn’t let a single second slip by without seeking justice. Because when the world treats
her like trash, the only response is to prove that she is not.