?Chapter 349:


    Alice’s words echoed in my mind, growing louder with each repeat.


    No! I couldn’t let them slip away without answers. I had to confront them, to pry the truth from their lips before they disappeared for good.


    Nightfall came like a silent aplice. Darkness always made for the perfect disguise.


    With Alice’s help, I changed into her clothes, slipping out of the hospital like a shadow. I made my way to the prison where Connolly and Irene were being temporarily held, a ce that felt as cold and unfeeling as their hearts.


    The token yton had given me granted me passage, and I moved unhindered through the dark corridors.


    Under the flickering lights, I found them—Connolly and Irene.


    They looked far removed from the people I once knew, their hair matted, their clothes torn and covered in dust, misery etched into every line of their faces.


    The moment Connolly saw me, he sprang up, rushing toward the bars as if I were hisst lifeline.


    “Makenna! My dear daughter!” His voice was thick with desperation, a pitiful plea that rang hollow to me. “Save us! You have to help us!”


    Irene joined in, her voice cracking with tears as she begged, “Makenna, we shouldn’t have falsely used you. Please… help us.”


    But I stood there, unmoved, my eyes cold and devoid of any trace of affection. “Connolly,” I said, my voice sharp as the edge of a de, “do you only remember I’m your daughter when you’re facing ruin?”


    In my heart, I had long ceased to see him as my father. When they realized pleading wouldn’t work, their masks slipped, and venom poured out in torrents.


    “Makenna! You ungrateful wretch!” Connolly spat, his voice rising with fury. “Heartless! You will suffer for this, mark my words!”


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    “You ruined Jessica, and now you’ve destroyed us too!” Irene’s voice was shrill, her words dripping with bitterness. “Even in death, I won’t let you rest!”


    Their curses washed over me like water off a duck’s back. I stepped closer, my jaw clenched as I forced the words out. “Tell me how my mother died.”


    At my question, they froze. The stream of hatred halted as they exchanged nces, something dark and unspoken passing between them.


    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connolly stammered, his eyes suddenly distant. “Your mother… she died giving birth, that’s all.”


    I stared at him, searching for any flicker of truth. But all I found was evasion, panic etched into their faces.


    No matter how I pressed, they refused to reveal the truth.


    I had known it wouldn’t be easy to make them confess, but hearing their lies still made something inside me churn with anger.


    “Connolly,” I nearly shouted, my fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my skin, “am I really your daughter?”


    The question hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, I thought I saw fear sh in his eyes. My mind drifted back to that day in the grand hall, when Connolly and Irene had tried to bury me with their usations, their hatred almost tangible. At that moment, it all became clear. I wasn’t Connolly’s daughter, not truly.


    “Tell me the truth!” My voice trembled with rage. “How did my mother die? Am I really your daughter?”


    “What are you saying? Of course, I’m your father! How could you doubt that?”


    Connolly’s stammering defense crumbled under the weight of his panic, his voice rising in fury. “You ungrateful daughter! How dare you speak to me like this! Even if you have no intention of helping us, don’t utter such cruel things!”


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