Chapter 182 I Need to Know The Truth

Chapter 182 I Need to Know The Truth
Jane's POV

I clutched at my jacket, my heart racing, my voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor.

David frowned as he surveyed our surroundings, his tone steady but heavy with concern. "The front steps aren't buried under too much dust, and there are half-dead plants in the corner planters. All of this suggests someone is living here."

"So what do we do?" I couldn't help but press him, anxiety and panic churning inside me. "Do we just wait around like sitting ducks? Or... could we go in and take a look?" After all, no one answered the phone or the door—if we kept waiting, who knew if we'd ever find any clues.

David shook his head decisively, his eyes clear and resolute. "Absolutely not. Legally speaking, we have no right to break into someone else's home. That would be trespassing." He paused, softening his tone to reassure me. "Don't worry. We can wait nearby for a while, maybe walk around the area. We might run into the residents or find other leads."

I gazed at this eerily quiet villa district, where the wind stirred up dead leaves with a rustling sound that made my skin crawl.

Despite my lingering unease, seeing David's calm confidence, I nodded and obediently followed him to a concealed spot under some nearby trees.

We waited like that in silence, from the blazing afternoon sun until the setting sun painted the sky a brilliant orange. The chill around us grew deeper, but the villa remained completely still.

Just as I was about to lose patience and wonder if we'd come to the wrong place, the distant sound of an engine reached us—a black sedan slowly approached and came to a stop right in front of the villa.

My heart lurched, and I instantly held my breath, instinctively looking toward David. He immediately tensed up too, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes as he quickly met my gaze with a look that held our unspoken understanding: finally.

The engine gradually fell silent at the villa's entrance, and a car door opened. A man bent down and stepped out.

The setting sun's afterglow stretched his shadow long, and I could only make out a somewhat slight silhouette, his form too blurry to tell if he was the man with his arm around my mother's shoulder in the photograph.

My heart shot into my throat, and my hand unconsciously tightened on David's arm as I pulled him along, hurrying toward the villa's entrance.

The closer we got, the harder my heart pounded, but when I finally got a clear look at the man, my expectations crashed like cold water had been thrown over them—he clearly wasn't the person in the photo.

The man was somewhat stooped, his back slightly curved, his temples and crown covered with white hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes were carved so deep they looked etched in stone. He appeared far more aged than the man in the photograph.

An indescribable disappointment washed over me, and I hesitated mid-step, my voice weakening considerably.

The man obviously hadn't expected two people to suddenly appear and shrank back, his eyes panicked, his tone wary and questioning, "What do you want? Suddenly running over here—what are you trying to do?"

"Sorry, sorry!" I quickly waved my hands, speaking rapidly with barely concealed urgency in my voice. "We don't mean any harm—we're just looking for someone!"

As soon as I finished speaking, David smoothly pulled out the old photograph from his pocket and held it in front of the man, his tone steady as he added. "Do you recognize the people in this photo? We've been looking for them for a long time."

The man's gaze fell on the photograph, and his previously panicked expression suddenly changed—his pupils contracted sharply, as if something had stabbed him painfully. He pressed his lips together, his mouth forming a rigid, straight line.

After a few seconds of silence, he began looking David and me up and down, his eyes full of scrutiny and wariness, as if judging our intentions.

Seeing his reaction, hope flickered back to life in my chest. In my desperation, I stepped half a pace closer, my voice trembling with pleading. "You definitely recognize them, don't you? Please, tell us where they went. It's been so many years—I really need to know the truth!"

But the man remained unmoved, his frown deepening, his tone still guarded. "Why should I trust you? There are so many bad people these days—how do I know you're not using finding someone as a cover for some criminal scheme?"

"Look at this." David reacted quickly, immediately pulling his bar certification from his briefcase and opening it in front of the man, his tone serious and trustworthy. "I'm a practicing attorney. We're really just here to verify some information—we have no malicious intent whatsoever."

Seeing the man's continued hesitation, the urgency in my heart could no longer be contained, and words tumbled out with a sob. "I'm the daughter of the woman in this photo! My name is Jane, and I'm looking for my mother!"

When the man heard my words, his expression instantly became complex—surprise, confusion, and a deep sadness I couldn't decipher. A flash of pain crossed his eyes, as if my words had touched some long-buried wound in the depths of his heart.

"Jane..." he softly repeated my name, his voice carrying a strange familiarity, as if he had silently recited this name countless times in his heart.

He fell silent for a long time, his gaze carefully studying my face, as if searching for some familiar trace. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly, making him appear even more aged.

"Come inside," he said, his voice hoarse and weary as he turned toward the villa.

David and I exchanged glances, both seeing tension and anticipation in each other's eyes. We followed the man into this mysterious villa.

The interior of the villa was much tidier than its exterior suggested. Though the furniture was somewhat dated, everything was meticulously clean. The living room held several old-fashioned sofas.

The man gestured for us to sit while he paced around the living room for a few moments, apparently organizing his thoughts. Finally, he settled into a single armchair across from us, hands clasped together, looking at me with complex emotions.

"Are you really... her daughter?" His voice was soft, carrying a careful, tentative quality.

I nodded, my heart racing: "Yes, my name is Jane. My mother's name is Sarah. I've been searching for the truth about her past."

Hearing my mother's name, the man's body visibly trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He covered his face with shaking hands, took several deep breaths, then looked up at me again.

"All these years... I thought no one would ever come asking about her again." His voice was choked with emotion. "Child, you... you look so much like her."

My heart pounded wildly, a mixture of excitement and fear surging through me. I gripped David's hand tightly, struggling to stay calm. "Please tell me—did you know my mother? Who is the man in the photograph?"

The man glanced at the photo in my hand, his expression growing even more pained. "That man... is my son."

He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. "But this story is complicated and painful. Are you sure you want to know the truth? Some truths, once you know them, you can never go back."

I took a deep breath, and despite the fear filling my heart, I nodded firmly. "I need to know. No matter how painful it is, I need to know the truth."