جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 136

The sky over Manhattan was bruised with the last shades of orange when Richard finally stepped into the penthouse. The soft click of the door echoed through the hall, blending with the distant hum of the city. He loosened his tie as his gaze swept the living room—empty, quiet, too still for a house that usually buzzed with Annabelle’s laughter and Alan’s cartoons.“Annabelle?” he called, his voice low but edged with concern.No answer.He moved past the hallway, his steps soft against the marble, until he caught a faint shape through the open balcony doors. There she was—sitting sideways on the round swing, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly, the other gripping the chain for support. Her eyes were fixed on the fading skyline, as if searching for something the horizon might offer. The gentle evening breeze played with her hair, a few loose strands brushing against her calm but weary face.Richard’s chest tightened. Something about the stillness around her—the silence—

Richard barked out a hollow laugh. “So she raised me like a son… so she could steal everything later.”Jack nodded once.Richard dragged a hand over his face, then looked at his father—broken, furious, and grieving all at once.“This whole time,” he whispered. “While I mourned you… while I worshipped her as Mom’s sister…” His voice shook. “She played us like chess pieces.”Annabelle stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on his arm. “Richard…”He didn’t move.His voice was low, dangerous, trembling with a fury he had never allowed himself to feel.“She’s going to pay for this.”And this time, there was no room for doubt in his tone.“Sure, she will. We have all the time in hand, right?” Annabelle said, patting Richard’s shoulder.Richard got what she was referring to. His jaw tightened, fists curling at his sides. He drew a deep breath, trying to tame the storm of anger building inside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, sharp, and heavy with controlled fury.“Let’s go, Dad

Britney was taken away. Jack, Richard and Annabelle stood there, watching her being dragged off, turning a deaf ear to her screams and desperate pleas.Finally, when the dust settled, the three of them climbed the stairs out of the basement—Richard walking slightly ahead, Annabelle beside him, Jack following slowly with the heaviness of long-buried memories sitting in his chest.Britney’s screams still occasionally echoed faintly behind them, but Annabelle kept her eyes forward.She exhaled quietly.“Richard… what punishment will Britney get?”Richard paused mid-step.He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward Jack.Their gazes met.A small, soft, knowing smile passed between father and son—unspoken understanding, the kind built through shared wounds and a dark past only they could comprehend.Annabelle caught it but didn’t push.Richard finally said, “It’s not the right time. I’ll tell you later.”His tone was calm, almost gentle, but firm enough that A