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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monochrome image, Maureen smiled with radiant serenity, embodying tranquil days. Yet her eyes held

less sorrow.

the photo tightened slowly before he

“Perfect!

addicted

“A funeral portrait!

of joke

notice the tremor in his own

bedrooms and a living room–easy to

like tables and chairs, the space held

“Boom-!”

lightning

“Find out where

“Yes, Mr. Sutton.”

After Wayne left,

dismissed his bodyguards too. He stayed alone, waiting

lasted an entire

Voices from neighbors outside drifted

never had a daughter of her own.

“Exactly.

still remember Maureen, such a bright and sensible girl. How could she leave

High Society ain’t easy either. Last time Maureen came back, she looked like a different person–thin as a reed, like a gust could

husband was. Wishful thinking! Married three years, never once brought her

lump in

Maureen never

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drifting into a light

of Maureen

opened his eyes, silence and darkness surrounded him. No

truly

Ten o’clock at night.

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for “questioning.” The room felt even smaller, crammed

“Where are they?”

the villagers had ever faced such intimidation. They stood ramrod straight, heads bowed, not daring to glance