No Mercy, No Forgiveness

Wayne led Geoffrey toward the countryside of Small Town, talking as they walked.

“We found out Gareth’s travel route led here. After further investigation, we learned Maureen’s foster mother lived here during her childhood.”

Foster mother…

Amid the torrential downpour, Geoffrey’s eyes darkened as he suddenly remembered why the name Small Town sounded so familiar.

Maureen had mentioned it to him countless times!

Throughout their three–year marriage, whenever a holiday approached, she’d anxiously ask: “Geoff, I need to go to Small Town. Is that alright?”

Back then, Geoffrey never cared about Maureen’s whereabouts, nor did he ask her purpose for visiting Small Town.

He’d always respond with icy detachment: “Go wherever you want. No need to report to me.”

Despite his dismissive words, Maureen still informed him every time she went anywhere.

She rarely ventured out, and her most frequent destination was this very place.

Finally, they arrived before a dilapidated brick house.

“This is it.”

Wayne stepped forward, noticing the locked front door. “Why’s it locked?”

He glanced back at Geoffrey, who gave a slight nod.

Several bodyguards moved forward and broke open the door.

“Wait outside,” Geoffrey commanded.

“Yes, sir.”

Stepping inside, damp air rushed to meet them. The interior stood in disrepair, carrying the stale scent of mildew.

Maureen actually lived here as a child?

Geoffrey frowned, moving forward until his gaze settled on a black–and–white photo displayed on the square table.

His pupils contracted. He stepped closer, picked up the picture, and stared at it for a long time, stunned disbelief writ-

ten across his face.

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the monochrome image, Maureen smiled with radiant serenity, embodying tranquil days. Yet

less sorrow.

tightened slowly

“Perfect!

you addicted to

“A funeral portrait!

kind of joke

didn’t notice the tremor in his

bedrooms and a living room–easy to

space held little else. Geoffrey

“Boom-!”

a flash of lightning illuminated the funeral portrait

summoned his assistant Wayne: “Find out

“Yes, Mr. Sutton.”

After Wayne left,

stayed alone, waiting for the homeowner’s return to

lasted an

Voices from neighbors outside drifted

daughter of her own. Finally

“Exactly.

bright and sensible girl. How

back, she looked like a different person–thin as a

how wonderful her husband was.

a lump in

Maureen never showed up that

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against the wooden chair, drifting into a light sleep. Moments later, he

dreamed of Maureen

he opened his eyes, silence and darkness surrounded him.

truly felt

Ten o’clock at night.

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brick house for “questioning.” The room felt

“Where are they?”

of the villagers had ever faced such intimidation. They stood ramrod straight, heads bowed,