She knew, every choice the other party made along the way was fraught with calculation and cruelty.
She was not forced, she voluntarily walked this path, stepping over the corpses of others to climb upwards.
"Are you lecturing me? Advising me to repent?"
Chloe mocked, "Or do you want me dead now?"
Her laugh was wanton, yet there was not a trace of laughter in her eyes.
Moonlight spilled over her face, reflecting a layer of cold, white luster, making her appear like an exquisite porcelain, beautiful yet fragile.
Her fingers clenched the railing, knuckles turning white.
For so many years, no one dared to speak to her like this.
Even her mother only dared to whisper complaints in the solitude of the night.
And now, this sister, whom she once trampled underfoot, dared to question her with this tone?
"Neither."
Vivian laughed, very softly, "I'm just soft-hearted."
That smile was so faint it was almost invisible, yet it made the air stagnate.
