?Chapter 1139:


    How could a woman like that take the life of awyer who came to help her?


    Still, something lingering in Maia’s mind kept confusing her. Why had Zoey never fought against the charges? Why had she chosen to stay locked inside prison walls? And what truth had unfolded in those distant days?


    Maia wondered if it had been Kolton, the present head of the Cooper family, who hadid the trap for her.


    Countless questions burst inside Maia’s chest, rolling through her heart like waves that refused to calm.


    The flood of doubts left her even more tangled, yet it also pushed her to crave the truth about Zoey more than ever.


    “I want to know, I want to learn every piece of your story, Mom.”


    Maia lifted her face, tears clinging to hershes, her voice firm and unwavering. “I want to know… the life of my other mother.”


    “With a request spoken like that, how could I ever turn you away?” Zoey dipped her head in a faint nod, tears gleaming in her eyes.


    “Then step inside, and you will meet… another Zoey Cooper.”


    Within the hushed wooden hut, Maia saw numerous traces of past life.


    Along the walls, rough pencil marks measured growing heights, each line paired with a date that had long since faded.


    Beneath her feet, the boards groaned with age, the entire ce carrying the weight of abandonment.


    At the center, however, a modest cab stood in perfect order, untouched by time’s neglect.


    Resting on top was a picture frame that had once held a group portrait of Zoey, though only her image remained; the other half had vanished into absence.


    “My first home was a small fishing vige,” Zoey said, lowering herself into a worn wooden chair that creaked in protest. “My parents survived by castings into the sea. Sit here, Maia.”


    She motioned to a stool beside her. “What I’m about to share may sound heavy, but life rarely deals its cards fairly.”


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    Taking the offered seat, Maia nced at Zoey and noticed the pale streaks of white now threading through her hair.


    Not only was fate merciless, but time itself carved away with an unforgiving hand.


    Zoey’s eyes drifted past Maia, resting on the wall as though her vision pierced through the wood and into the memories buried beyond it.


    “My parents adored me, and I believed myself to be the luckiest child alive. My father sold fish just so he could buy me little dolls and pretty dresses, and my mother’s gentleness never wavered. They never quarreled, their love so constant it seemed unbreakable.”


    Zoey’s voice grew rougher as she spoke. “For a while, I thought that happiness would never abandon me. However, heaven had other ns. When I was only seven, a violent storm struck my vige, and my parents never returned from the sea.”


    Maia’s fingers curled tightly, a dull ache pressing against her chest.


    “After that, I kept going to the shoreline every single day, waiting for them to reappear, convincing myself they had only lost their way.”


    Zoey let out a gentleugh, as though clinging to a bittersweet memory. “They never dide back, but I met a boy instead. To be precise, a boy who couldn’t swim tumbled into the sea. His father was yelling desperately from the shore, though the man himself couldn’t swim either.”


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