112: 112 He Killed My Mother

112 He Killed My Mother

Delia’s POV 1

After I asked that question, Albert stared at me in disbelief, not saying a word for a long while.

"Albert, what's wrong?" His scrutinizing gaze made me feel uneasy. I had expected him to say something, but after waiting for quite some time without a response, I had to ask, "Is there something wrong with what I said?"

"Something wrong? Of course, it's wrong!" Albert responded with agitation.

"You barely spent any time with your mother. How could you possibly know how she died? You, no, not just you, everyone believes she died of an illness. That's because your father was able to spread the news of her illness and make everyone believe it!"

My father spread the news that my mother had died of an illness and made everyone believe it. Why would he do that?

A troubling thought suddenly surged within me. Did my father spread such news to cover up the fact that he was the murderer?

But why would my father do such a thing? What could he possibly gain from killing my mother?

"Delia, you're not saying anything. Do you think I'm lying?" Seeing me remain silent, Albert continued, "Are you thinking that the person who killed your mother is your father, but he had no reason to do so?"

"I do think that," I bit my lip and managed to force out the words, "Even if my father initially approached my mother for her treasure, I believe he had feelings for her after they fell in love..."

"Heh, feelings? On what basis do you say they had feelings for each other?" Albert interrupted me, coldly asking, "Can you even provide a single example?"

"Let me think," my brain raced as I desperately searched for any evidence of affection between my parents. I thought long and hard, and finally recalled an example.

"I remember now. My father mentioned that my mother had trouble sleeping after giving birth to me, so he used to personally prepare a glass of warm milk for her every night. Milk has a sedative effect, and after drinking it, my mother could sleep soundly all night."

Even though I lived with my mother when I was very young, I have almost no memories of her.

Everything I knew about her came from my father. While he rarely spoke of her, I remembered every detail he ever shared.

The pride in his voice when he mentioned preparing milk for my mother was, to me, evidence of his care for her. I suspected there was some love between them.

However, what surprised me was that, after hearing my explanation, Albert didn't show any signs of being convinced.

Instead, a strange expression crossed his face, so peculiar that I couldn't quite describe it. He asked, "Delia, where did you hear this from?"

"Of course, my father told me," I replied with certainty. "Details about daily life like this are trustworthy, and there's no reason for him to lie about such a small thing."

"These so-called details of daily life may be trustworthy, but that doesn't mean he wasn't deceiving you!" Albert erupted in anger upon confirming that my father had told me this. "Do you think he only made her a cup of warm milk? He added something to that milk!"

"He added something? What did he add?" Albert's sudden rage left me bewildered. "Did he put in sugar?"

"Delia, you're just as naive as your mother!" Albert raised his hand, looking as though he might strike me, but in the end, he didn't hit me; instead, he pounded it fiercely against the back of the couch. "Your father added poison to that milk!"

"What?!" Albert's words left me utterly shocked. "How could my father do something like that?"

"Yes, it's hard to believe that your father would do such a thing to his own wife," Albert snorted with disdain. He could no longer hide his contempt for my father.

"To cover his tracks, he carefully controlled the dosage of the poison, adding just a little bit each time. The poison was odorless and tasteless. Your mother had no idea, and she dutifully drank the milk every night under his supervision."

"But my father had no reason to do this!" I tried to argue, desperately attempting to convince myself that my father couldn't be the one responsible for my mother's death. "Wasn't he after my mother's precious blood? If that mystical power was in her blood, then he should have treated her well, or else he wouldn't be able to keep that treasure, right?"

"Indeed, that was the case before your father succeeded, but after they got married and you were born, your father's position was secure. At that point, your mother's treasure became a liability that could affect his status," Albert explained. He seemed to anticipate my confusion and continued, "The poison your father used, although administered in small doses each time, could accumulate in your mother's body. It took him a whole five years, but he waited until the day your mother succumbed to the poison. From that day on, no one could threaten your father's position."

"It took him five years indeed. Your mother passed away when you were around five years old. At that age, I barely had any memories of her. Based on what my father told me, I thought she had died of an illness. I felt so sorry for her, and now..." I couldn't finish my sentence.

"No, I refuse to believe this!" I couldn't accept it. "My father said he did it out of love, out of love for my mother! He couldn't have killed her!"

"Hmph, it's not wrong to say he did it out of love. He did, but it was love for power and desire, not love for your mother."

Albert's words were painfully blunt, and I couldn't come to terms with this truth. I screamed in frustration and thought about rushing to the palace dungeon to confront my father and get the answers I needed.

However, before I could take any action, someone knocked twice on the study door.

"Who is it?" Albert asked sharply.

"It's me, Your Majesty, your personal attendant," the person outside replied humbly. "I have just received a report from our communication officer. It brings good news from the front lines."

Good news? What good news?

"Oh?" Albert glanced at me, probably sensing my confusion. He raised his voice and asked, "Tell us in detail, what kind of good news is it?"

"Your Majesty, according to the battle plan you devised, Kral and his soldiers have fallen into our trap." The attendant also raised his voice slightly, and I could sense his excitement. "Our troops have surrounded them now. We dare not act without your orders. Please provide further instructions for the operation!"

This report immediately made me nervous. Kral had fallen into Albert's trap? What was going on?

Kral had led his soldiers to the Red Moon pack to deal with the rogue wolves. How could he have walked into Albert's trap? Albert was a vampire. Did he have some special connection to the rogues?

Before I could unravel the complexities of this situation, Albert suddenly stood up and looked down at me.

"What do you want to do?" Albert's gaze gave me a bad feeling. I assumed a defensive posture, watching Albert warily.

"Delia, the story has now reached its climax, and you can't miss this thrilling moment," Albert said as he reached out to restrain my arm. His strength was overwhelming, and I couldn't resist his grip.

"I'm heading to the battlefield right now, and I need you to come with me. I want you to witness your fiancé's death with your own eyes!"

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