Third Person’s POV


    Ultimately, he was blinded by self–interest.


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    At first, he may have resisted Madison’s demands, but eventually, he becameplicit.


    By the end, he was deeply involved, even participating in the maniptions behind the scenes.


    He thought that by pinning the me entirely on Madison and feigning victimhood, he could escape punishment. He was wrong.


    Ron stopped talking, sitting quietly nearby.


    Finally, Hunt stopped crying. He looked up at Ron and asked, “When the head is cut off, does the person die immediately?”


    Ron replied vaguely, “How would I know? But forensic reports suggest the brain retains consciousness for a brief period. Of course, I haven’t experienced it myself, so I don’t know if it’s true.”


    “That’s horrifying!” He stared nkly at Ron, unable to stop shaking.


    “Yes, it is a horrible way to die. And with so many people watching.”


    Hunt started to cry again, shouting through his tears, “How could I end up like this? Madison ruined me! Madison ruined me!”


    “You brought this on yourself,” Ron said, standing up to leave.


    It was nearly time to head to the execution site.


    Soon after, Ministry of Justice guards arrived to escort Hunt.


    He couldn’t stand on his own. His entire bodycked strength, and he had to be supported and dragged.


    Lance and Adide led the procession, with the transport vehicle carrying Hunt following behind.


    The onlookers followed the convoy toward the execution site. No one threw anything at him, but the curses never stopped.


    <b>14:36 </b>Wed, <b>Nov </b>5


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    Hunt’s long hair covered his face. All traces of his former authority were gone; he looked like <b>a </b>beaten stray dog.


    He frantically tried to spot his family in the crowd, hoping for just a glimpse of a familiar face -anyone–to case the terror gripping his heart.


    But he saw nothing. Not even a single household servant was present.


    He was hit by a terrifying realization. Would anyone im his body after his death? The Shumans most likely wouldn’t.


    If no one did, the Ministry of Justice would probably wrap him in a cheap tarp and bury him in an unmarked grave.


    As the execution time drew nearer, his fear intensified, causing his body to shake even harder.


    At the execution ground, Hunt was dragged from the transport vehicle and across the field to the center, where he was forced to his knees.


    The tall executioner stood beside him, the de glinting coldly in the sunlight.


    Hunt couldn’t kneel steadily and desperately scanned the crowd, pleading with his eyes for help.


    The site was noisy, but all he could hear was his own heart pounding like a drum, threatening to leap from his chest.


    He didn’t see Lance, the supervising official, standing behind him, only vaguely hearing his voice.


    He tried to look back, but his back was firmly held, and his head wouldn’t turn. He could only see the executioner pinching his nose, his face a mask of disgust.


    Only then did Hunt realize he had lost control of his dder and bowels, but the terror had already left him numb.


    The deep–seated fear was like venomous snakes crawling beneath his skin. He had only one thought left, “I’m so scared, so incredibly scared.”


    Finally, he saw a familiar face in the crowd and was instantly ovee with relief. He choked out a hoarse, distorted cry, “Daphne! Daphne…”


    Aldrich stood outside the cordon with the plump Daphne.


    Herrge, dark eyes were fixed on him.


    <b>14:36 </b>Wed, Nov 5


    Their gazes met, but Daphne seemedpletely untouched by her biological father’s fear or joy. She just looked at him expressionlessly, her eyes perfectly calm.


    “Do you want to offer your father something to eat? Aldrich asked Daphne.


    “I think he’s probably already eaten, Daphne replied.


    Aldrich nodded. “That’s right. The Ministry of Justice is required to give the condemned ast meal. But do you have anything you want to say to him?”


    Daphne thought for a moment. “Can I go talk to him?”


    “By regtion, yes.”


    Daphne said, “Then I have one question I want to ask him.”


    Aldrich chuckled. “Come on. I’ll take you to the supervisor. That’s my great–nephew; he won’t mind an old man like me smelling a bit.”


    “I don’t mind your smell anymore, I just think you’re old,” Daphne said, walking after Aldrich. Her clothes today fit well, not making her look overly heavy, just round and seemingly blessed. Aldrich approached the supervisor’s tform and spoke to Lance. “Daphne says she <i>has </i>a question for Hunt.”


    Lance nced at Adide beside him. Adide offered, “I’ll go with you.”


    Although there was no real bond between Hunt and Daphne, Daphne had been raised by Aldrich. Being present for their conversation would help avoid any unnecessaryplications for Aldrich.


    “Thank you, Gamma Adide,” Daphne said willingly, understanding the need for discretion.


    The three of them walked toward the center of the execution ground. As they walked, Daphne said, “I’ll only ask one question. I won’t cause a dy.”


    “Understood,” Adide replied. She didn’t ask what the question was, simply walking beside her in silence.


    When they reached Hunt, Daphne knelt down and looked at him calmly.


    Sara Lili


    <strong>Sara Lili</strong> is a daring romance writer who turns icyndscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of d’s breathtaking cold.