Chapter 298
298 Buried Memories
Third Person POV
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Aubrey arched a brow before answering coolly, “Two years ago.”
“Is that so?”
A
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Wemble smiled faintly, but his pen immediately scratched across the page with a note: remarkably calm . Just as he’d been told–faced with such an intrusive question from a stranger, she showed no hint of embarrassment, no visible emotion at all.
His expression stayed light, but a flicker of caution entered his
gaze.
“Then, second question. Do you have any friends?”
Aubrey frowned slightly. After a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “Yes.”
Observing the subtle movements of her face, Wemble jotted down another phrase: emotionally detached .
“If one of your friends suddenly stopped speaking to you, what would you do? Or would nothing at all?”
you
do
“Everyone has their own life. If she no longer wants to contact me, that means she no longer needs me.” Aubrey’s tone was matter–of–fact. “So why would I bother her?”
Wemble nodded slowly.
gaze softened
“Next question. I heard you once had a stepmother. Was she unkind to you?” His with something like regret. “You don’t seem like someone who grew up in a healthy family.”
“She wasn’t kind,” Aubrey admitted. For the first time, her guard loosened just a little. She even let out a faint smile. “But it doesn’t matter. She can’t hurt me anymore.”
“She once hurt you?” Wemble leaned forward, his manner less like a therapist than like a curious friend who wanted to know her world. “Would you tell me the worst thing she ever did to you?”
There were too many to count.
The lash of the wolfsbane whip, the suppression of her awakening, her final death–Aurelia’s shadow lingered over them all.
Yet strangely, the memory that surfaced now was something small, almost trivial, from long
ago.
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298 Buried Memories
Leaning back, Aubrey paused before speaking in a detached tone.
Finished
“I was about thirteen or fourteen. I actually liked dressing up. I always kept my clothes clean, my hair neat. But that was all I could do. In Aurelia’s house, I never had the chance to shine.
Bailey was different. She had new clothes, new shoes, pretty accessories almost every day. Me? I could only wear the oversized, unfashionable things Aurelia bought.
Sometimes Father would buy the same dresses for both of us. But mine would be deliberately ruined–snipped and spoiled. Aurelia would tell Father that I had done it myself, because I disliked frilly things.
I never dared to argue. At that time, Father listened to her completely. She controlled everything in the house. I had to bend to her will. She never wanted me to outshine her daughter.”
So long ago–Aubrey had thought she’d forgotten. Yet recounting it now, she remembered every detail vividly.
Her lips pressed together. Then she continued.
“One time, our school held a dance. We had to pay a small activity fee, but more importantly, we needed a beautiful dress. If I went in my school uniform or one of those dreary old outfits, I’d be ridiculed–especially when all the other girls looked like little princesses.
I wanted, just once, to be beautiful too. That urge, once it rose, was impossible to suppress. But I had no money for a dress.”
Her gaze dropped faintly. There had been another reason. She’d heard that Henry, who had been away for three months of Alpha training, would be back to attend the dance.
And she had wanted, just once, to wear a pretty gown and dance with him.
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