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Chapter 9
Crystal Lynn sobbed uncontrollably.
"Ryan, I know you must hate me... I hate myself too."
"But I swear it wasn't intentional. I'm an orphan—how could I ever deliberately hurt a child?"
"Maybe I should just die. Let me pay for Lily's life."
She turned as if to hurl herself at the wall, deliberately revealing her slightly rounded belly.
Ryan Bennett's expression darkened as he grabbed her arm.
"Enough. What's the point of saying all this now?"
The death of his daughter and his wife's suicide had already drained him.
In the end, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another piece of his own blood.
With a cold dismissal, he said, "Take care of Miss Lynn," before turning away.
The moment he was out of sight, a triumphant gleam flashed in Crystal's eyes.
No matter how exceptional a man was, she still had him wrapped around her finger.
Once she gave birth and played the victim card, the title of Mrs. Bennett would be hers for the taking.
Night fell as Ryan returned home, exhaustion weighing on him.
The brightly lit mansion felt unbearably cold.
The painting his daughter had proudly displayed in the living room was gone—he'd ordered it burned himself.
The family portrait had long been removed, leaving only a faint rectangular mark on the wall, as if their happiness had been forcibly ripped away.
His gaze swept across the room.
The books Joanna Taylor had read, the plants she lovingly tended—every trace of her had vanished without a trace, as though she'd never existed.
His heart clenched violently, an indescribable agony surging through him.
Memories of Joanna flooded his mind unbidden—her gentle smile, the way she moved around the kitchen, the nights they spent together as a family, stargazing and dreaming of seeing the aurora.
Those moments of laughter and warmth had once been his most treasured possessions.
The thought struck him like a blade—his daughter was dead, and Joanna had lost her only family.
And what had he been doing at the time?
Hurting her. Cursing her. Standing by another woman.
Guilt coiled around his insides like a venomous serpent, refusing to let go.
The hotel had returned Joanna's diamond ring to the mansion.
Ryan held it in his palm, the hard stone cutting into his skin like a dull ache.
He refused to believe it—refused to accept that Joanna was truly gone.
If she was still alive, there was still a chance to make amends. They could start over.
His bloodshot eyes burned as he spoke in a voice colder than ice.
"Investigate what Crystal did to my wife. And Lily's cause of death."
"Also, mobilize every resource to find Joanna. I want her found—alive or dead."
His assistant worked swiftly, and soon, every recorded insult and vile word Crystal had hurled at Joanna appeared on Ryan's screen.
Even braced for the worst, his hands trembled uncontrollably.
He had trusted Crystal blindly, and she hadn't even bothered to hide her malice.
Her blatant provocations, her self-righteous "fairness"—all of it had pushed Joanna into an abyss.
"Prepare the car. We're going to the hospital."
Standing outside Crystal's room, he heard her smug laughter firsthand.
"That eyesore of a wife and her little bastard are finally taken care of."
"Of course I pushed them on purpose. Who knew they'd be so weak—both of them just dropped dead."
Every word stabbed into Ryan's heart like a blade.
He had believed Crystal was innocent, fragile, indebted to him—that was why he'd indulged her.
That drunken mistake had been his fault, but he never imagined she could be this cruel, this ruthless in destroying his family.
The door slammed open.
Crystal's laughter died instantly, her voice shaking.
"R-Ryan... What are you doing here?"