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“Lock Mona up–she needs to learn a lesson,” Liza said.
And just like that, their family put Mona in jail.
Three years later, Mona got out of jail. Her brother Colton came to pick her up.
“Listen. Now that you’re out, act like a decent human being. Try anything shady with Liza again, and I won’t hesitate to have you locked up for another few years. “Colton was worried Mona might pick on Liza again.
Mona stared at the back of his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t fight her for anything. Ever again.”
For a second, Colton looked genuinely surprised.
Then he smirked, convinced she was bluffing.
“You’d better mean that,” he said. “Because if you don’t-”
Mona cut him off. “Then I’ll be chopped into pieces and left without a grave. Right?”
Colton slammed on the brakes.
“Mona, you still haven’t learned your lesson, have you? Still running that smart mouth? Get out. Walk back.”
Furious, he jumped out of the car, yanked open the back door, and dragged her out. He shoved her hard.
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She stumbled and fell into a deep pile of snow.
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Freezing powder rushed in through her clothes, shocking her skin like a thousand needles.
Her body shook. It took her a long moment to get back on her feet.
But the road was slick, and she slipped again, scraping her palms and
knees.
When she finally looked up, Colton was gone.
Only the deep tire tracks in the snow remained–cold evidence of how fast, and how gladly, he’d left her behind.
Tears she’d been holding back for so long finally welled up.
But she refused to cry.
Lifting her head, she stared up at the sky, willing the tears not to fall.
And then–out of the corner of her eye–she caught sight of a shadow.
‘Has Colton actually grown a conscience and come back for me?‘ she wondered.
Mona blinked, her eyes stinging, and turned her head–only to see a man she didn’t recognize.
He walked up to her, stopped a step away, and bent down slightly, offering his hand.
“Ms. Morse,” he said politely, “do you need a hand?”
Mona shook her head and got up on her own. “Sorry, who are you?”
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He’d called her by name. Clearly, he knew exactly who she was.
“Our sir would like a word with you,” he said, gesturing toward a line of luxury cars parked by the curb.
“And who exactly is this ‘sir‘ of yours?” Mona asked warily.
Her body was still aching, her limbs numb from the cold. Her voice came out weak and barely audible–not at all threatening.
“You’ll find out once you’re in the car,” the man said calmly.
Mona looked around. The street was empty. No one in sight. She had no way to resist them even if she tried.
She sighed to herself, then followed the man to the nearest car.
He opened the door–and there he was.
A man sat in the back seat, dressed in a sharp, perfectly tailored suit.
He was young, with a straight posture, broad shoulders, and a lean waist. His long legs were crossed elegantly.
As the door opened, wind and snow swept into the car–but he sat there, utterly composed, as if untouched by the storm.
For a moment, she forgot about the cold. Forgot about the pain. Forgot where she was.
She just stared.
“Ms. Morse, please get in,” the man in black reminded her gently.
Snapping back to reality, Mona climbed into the car.
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The door shut behind her, and the rush of warm air made her shiver despite herself.
“Good evening, sir. I’m Mona,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “why did you want to see me?”
The man gave her a glance–calm, indifferent.
“I want to know what the man you killed three years ago said to you before he died.”
Mona’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Is he a relative of the victim? Here to take revenge?‘ she wondered.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” she said quickly. “I was drugged and dumped in that car to take the fall. I don’t remember a thing. I swear.”
Even now, that night was a blur. All she remembered was how deeply she’d slept. And when she woke up, her whole world collapsed.
“Oh really?” His voice was colder than the blizzard outside–quiet, but cutting. It sent a chill straight through her.
“Yes,” she said. Facing someone this sharp, she didn’t dare lie. Not even at word.
At that moment, the man in the front passenger seat turned around with a friendly smile.
“Ms. Morse, there’s no need to be afraid. We’re not going
to hurt you. I’m
a hypnotist. We just want to know what the victim said to you before he died. If you cooperate, we’ll let you go. Sound fair?”
Mona wanted to say no.
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But looking at the setup, it was clear: if she refused, they’d find another way to make her agree.
She had no choice but to nod,
The hypnotist pulled out a silver pocket watch and held it in front of her, letting it sway gently back and forth.
Mona watched it. Maybe it was the exhaustion from not sleeping the night before, maybe it was everything catching up with her–but her eyelids grew heavy, and before she realized it, she drifted off.
The hypnotist’s voice came, calm and measured, “Mona, you were drunk and hit someone with your car. What did the victim say to you before they died?”
“I wasn’t the one driving. I don’t remember anything.
No matter how many times the hypnotist asked, Mona gave the same
answer.
He turned to the man in the back seat. “Mr. Haley, the result is identical to Liza’s–no leads, no memory.”
Waylon Haley’s expression darkened, his face like a thundercloud.
The hypnotist added carefully, “If we can’t find that drug soon, I’m afraid your condition won’t hold out for more than six months.”
Waylon–heir to the Haley family empire, ranked tenth on the global billionaire list.
He’d inherited a rare genetic illness that ran in the family, and now his life was hanging by a thread..
The family had spent over two decades building a world–class medical
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team, and after years of research, they’d finally developed a treatment.
But on the way to deliver the medicine to Waylon, the researcher was killed in a car crash. The drug disappeared without a trace.
An investigation quickly revealed that Mona had been framed–she wasn’t, the real driver. That shifted suspicion directly onto Liza.
For three years, they’d tried everything–interrogations, surveillance, psychological pressure–but got nothing from her.
Now Waylon’s health is deteriorating fast. Each episode was worse than
the last.
In desperation, they turned to Mona, hoping that maybe she’d subconsciously retained something from that night.
But her answers were the same: nothing.
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