The force of impact against the hard floor was so intense that her arm throbbed as if on the brink of fracturing, sending a wave of numbness rippling through her entire body. It evoked the sensation of being a patient immobilized in all four Limbs.

Next, a set of sizable hands assisted her to stand. Those hands gently patted her head before proceeding to untie a strap, thus restoring Casey's sight.

Before her was a man bathed in the soft glow of a crystal chandelier, his figure appearing adorned in a golden radiance, exuding an aura of refinement and gentleness.

However, to Casey, this scene appeared profoundly absurd. A mask!

Davey and his mask!

“How does it feel?" Davey inquired with a knowing tone. He intended for her to relive those harrowing years, yet now he posed the question “how does it feel" as if he were a pitifully merciful figure.

Casey's teeth audibly clenched, longing to consume his flesh and blood. "It should be you experiencing something," she uttered through gritted teeth.

“Davey, you murdered my parents solely to imprint this into my mind, didn't you?" she asked sarcastically. "Certainly, I remember it. You're the individual responsible for my parents' demise, and I'll never forget it."

After masquerading as an innocent fool for so long, Casey could finally unleash her hatred without inhibition, no longer compelled to conceal it. She fervently wished for Davey's demise a thousand times!

Davey's lips subtly contorted downward. Evidently, that was not his intent. He desired for Casey to recollect it was him who had supported her during those dark times when her parents died. He aimed for her to acknowledge that she couldn't exist without him.

Davey proceeded to untie her ropes.

In truth, at this juncture, Casey lacked the strength to resist.

Davey had merely bound her hands and obscured her vision to acquaint her with the sensation of darkness. He regarded her tenderly and remarked, "Casey, you've always been too impulsive, unable to recognize that I'm acting in your best interests."

Casey nearly succumbed to laughter. Gazing at his hypocritical countenance, she questioned, “Are you suggesting that you murdered my parents for my benefit?"

"Indeed. They couldn't provide you with any strength, only suffering. I was merely helping you." Davey slid a report across the table, stating, "You're unaware, but both your parents were battling cancer at the time, their lives already fleeting. I acted only to spare you the agony of their passing."

Casey's gaze was fixed on the yellowed medical report, the faded print revealing the physician's name, Isaac Nguyen. This doctor had treated her family, but the report's validity was in question.

Davey knocked over a stack of old letters, saying, "These are Hutton's last words to you. He wrote these eighteen letters for you, knowing his time was limited. He finished them just before the tragedy occurred."

With trembling hands, Casey opened the letters, and the familiar scrawl of her father's handwriting leapt out at her. Every word, every sentence, revealed his anguish at leaving her behind and his profound worries for her well-being.

Hutton wasn't worried about himself, but about Casey's future. He feared who would care for her, if anyone would take advantage of her kindness, and who would keep her safe.

Casey devoured the letters, tears streaming down her face as she read, until she was consumed by racking sobs, her grief threatening to engulf her. The grief spread like a dark stain, seeping deeper into her soul.