It was a shock to everyone when Yvonne, who appeared the epitof gentleness, took her own life so suddenly.

But she did take her own life. No one could fathom why, and Bernard was in the dark as much as anyone else.

He had always believed his marriage was a happy one, full of love, with a lively son to brighten their days.

His hair turned grey overnight, but no answers came. After the tragedy, Leonard and his wife were so stricken with grief that they

withdrew from their social circles, shutting themselves away from the world.

And from that moment on, Bernard never saw his father-in-law again. Now, as he watched Leonard shuffle forward, frail and

trembling, Bernard realized just how deep the sorrow of Yvonne's death ran for many.

Leonard resembled a man on his last legs, panting with each step, leaning heavily on his cane. Probably sensing Bernard's gaze, he

looked up, their eyes meeting across the void.

Bernard felt a sting in his gaze and stepped back as he saw Leonard approaching. Rubbing his temples, he turned to Lindsey, "Go

down; tell him to stay out of this."

Lindsey nodded and hurried off.

Bernard watched Lingery speak with Leonard, who, despite his labored breathing, seemed resolute.

Bernard saw Lingery return with a hesitant tone, "Professor, he says his wife passed away last night, and he's got a letter for you.

He says it's from Mrs. March, and he wants to hand it to you personally.”

Yvonne's departure had left behind a web of mysteries. For the first three years, Bernard dreamed incessantly, wondering if there

was something he'd missed, something that had hurt Yvonne.

to her suicide remained elusive. His once profound

turned to seething hate.

spouses, a seemingly perfect couple - how could she suddenly

behind to face

letter. Would it possibly be her last words? Could it

pierced Bernard's heart. "Let him

of over thirty police cars, sirens blaring and lights flashing, filled the air, heightening

the large iron gate opened, supported by a cane, Leonard walked in slowly. He

any second.

waited patiently, seated with an unfinished bottle of red wine on the table before him. Ten minutes

Leonard ascended, leaning

to the chair opposite him, "Leonald,

the aged Bernard, his face

away his last bit of resolve, and a sense of

Sarah administering injections to Fitch and

hibernation chamber.

his voice was

want to bring

here

instead fixing his eyes on the empty

wine, his demeanor composed and

the path he had chosen was stained with too much

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