Facade of Love

Chapter 171 Inch’s Appearance

Moore was covered in blood but remained eerily calm as she crouched down. She then calmly placed the blood–stained knife in my hand and made me stab the knife into Noah’s back again.

I wanted to speak, but the strong effects of the drug rendered me voiceless. She looked at me with satisfaction and said, “Yvette, you should thank me. I didn’t let this beast violate you and kill you. It’s the least I can do for our sisterly bond. But remember, murder carries a life sentence. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison, watching me and Iddy have children and grow old together. Thanks for helping me get rid of Madam Young, clearing all obstacles for me and Iddy.”

After speaking, she calmly removed her gloves and tenderly touched her bulging belly,

murmuring to herself, “My baby, your father must be lonely on the road to the underworld. Let me send you to accompany him, okay?”

I watched her forcefully slam her stomach against the corner of a wooden table. She twisted in pain on the floor, blood starting to pour out and form a pool around her.

As she lay dying, she gave me a sinister smile and then made a phone call. In a weak voice, she said, “Iddy, save… save us. Yvette and I are in the abandoned factory on Southern City Road… Noah… he violated Yvette…”

After she said this, the phone slowly sl*pped from her hand. Regardless of what the person on the other end called out, she could not say another word in return.

my brain and nerves were frozen for a moment. It was suffocating. Moore first pretended to

act.

was far more malicious than I had imagined.

what

push the corpse off me and escape this nightmare, but I could

to keep my eyes open against the drug’s effects, I thought I saw someone

somewhat youthful male

voice. It was familiar.

my head.

consciousness completely, the

felt empty, and it took a while for me to gather my senses. I looked around frantically at the unfamiliar surroundings. I was no longer in the abandoned factory. Noah’s bloodied b*dy was not on me, and Moore, who had been beside me earlier in a pool of blood, was not

extravagantly luxurious. There was a beautifully crafted dressing table, porcelain, incense accessories,

Bea’s

place, the Youngs‘, or Clearwater Residence. The unfamiliar yet realistic scenery