Chapter 1258

Chapter 1258:

Instantly, Jared understood—it was a fake lawn.

Backing away from the study window, he made his way toward the disguised section of the lawn. Ensuring no one was nearby, he carefully lifted the edge. Beneath it, a hidden passage emerged, just wide enough for a single person to pass through. A set of stairs descended into the darkness. Jared’s eyes narrowed as a sense of intrigue settled over him. Something was concealed within this passage. He made his decision—he would go down and uncover whatever lay beneath.

The underground passage, with its external entrance, heightened Jared’s vigilance. He tread cautiously, aware of potential traps. Yet, as he descended further, his confusion deepened. There were no hidden mechanisms, no obstacles—just an unsettlingly large space below. And then, as he advanced, a sound reached his ears.

In the basement beneath the study, a place steeped in a chilling, oppressive atmosphere, a frail girl sat curled up on the cold ground, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She wore a thin, faded white dress that hung loosely on her delicate frame. Her exposed arms bore the cruel evidence of past torment—bruises, dark and splotched, marring her pale skin. Scattered around her were overturned bowls and dishes.

“Just an unacknowledged daughter, and you dare think you can see Mr. Perkins while our young mistress isn’t in Estresa?” Standing over the girl was a stout, broad-shouldered woman, her arms akimbo, her expression twisted with contempt.

“If she hadn’t returned in time, you might’ve actually pulled it off! You miserable thing—did you really believe you could live like a lady of the Perkins family? Don’t be ridiculous. If Mr. Perkins had ever intended to acknowledge you, he wouldn’t have cast you out like trash in the first place! But since you had the audacity to come here, don’t even think about leaving. You’ll stay right where you are—nothing more than a convenient tool for the young mistress to vent her frustrations. You’ve broken the rules, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

As the woman spoke, she stepped forward, raising her foot to deliver a punishing kick—only to strike nothing but empty air.

The basement’s dim lighting cast eerie shadows over the wretched scene. The woman continued her venomous tirade, her harsh voice grating against the silence. The girl remained curled up, looking fragile, a pitiful sight that would have sent a shiver down anyone’s spine. On the cold ground, Nola Warren’s slender fingers tightened into a vice-like grip. Hidden in her palm was a jagged shard of porcelain. Her long, unkempt hair veiled her face, concealing her expression. Keeping her head bowed, she murmured in a weak, trembling voice, “I’m sorry. Please don’t hit me.”

But her words did not earn her mercy. If anything, they only seemed to fuel the woman’s cruelty.

Just as the woman yanked Nola’s hair and raised her hand to strike, a cold, ruthless glint flashed in Nola’s eyes, hidden beneath her bangs. The muscles in her slender arm tensed, and in an instant, the sharp shard in her grip sliced through the air, aiming straight for the vile woman’s throat.

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