Don’s Frenzy of Regret After Her Death

The day of judgment was set in the family's underground council chamber.

Alexander slammed a revolver onto the table in front of all the elders.

"Russian Roulette," he said, scanning the room coldly. "One bullet, a one-in-six chance. If the Donna survives, the past is wiped clean."

The elders whispered among themselves and eventually nodded in agreement.

Alexander didn't check the cylinder in public; he seemed confident in his arrangement.

He picked up the gun and strode over to me.

As he handed me the gun, his finger gently grazed my palm.

Those usually gloomy blue eyes were now filled with suppressed tension and deep affection.

He leaned into my ear under the pretense of handing me the weapon, his voice low enough that only we could hear:

"Trust me, Ivy."

"I've already had the cylinder cleared. Just pull the trigger, hear the empty click, and these old geezers will have nothing left to say."

"When this is over, we start fresh."

Start fresh?

I looked at his hopeful eyes, but my heart was a wasteland.

Alexander, you were too naive. With so much blood debt between us, how could we possibly start over?

But I said nothing. I just nodded obediently and took the heavy gun.

"Okay, I trust you."

I raised the gun and slowly aimed the dark muzzle at my left chest.