Chapter 282

His eyes were fixed on her. "Does it matter whether I believe you?"

She looked shocked, then laughed at herself. "Yes, whether he believes me or not has nothing to do with my belief. But why do I get nervous when I look at him?"

"I'm going back to my room," Grace said, attempting to walk past Jason toward the stairs. However, he pulled her arm after only two steps, causing her to fall into his arms.

"I believe you're innocent," he murmured, bending down so his voice resonated deeply in her ear. "Do you think you'll find anything investigating a three-year-old case? Did it ever occur to you that the truth you seek might not exist?"

Grace opened her bright, almond-shaped eyes and looked back at him. She smiled slightly. "Even people as rich and powerful as you think I can't reverse the case alone, but a little nobody like me still thinks maybe one day I'll clear my name."

Her smile pierced him; it felt like a sting to his heart. After a moment, he said, "What if I'm willing to help you? What if I can help you find the truth?"

She stared, wondering at his sudden change of attitude.

"If I say I can help you find the truth if you stay by my side, will you say yes?" he whispered, his warm breath enveloping her.

Her heartbeat intensified, threatening to leap from her throat. She knew saying yes would clear her name, offering a clean slate. But this clean slate came at the cost of her freedom, perhaps even her body. Was that what she truly wanted?

She was no longer a child. She considered the potential consequences of saying yes. Her mother wouldn't approve of her sacrificing her innocence to prove another's.

"I'll find out the truth myself," Grace said, rejecting his offer.

"Is that so?" he murmured, slowly straightening. A mist seemed to cloud his beautiful eyes. "Then come tell me when you're willing to say yes." He released her arm.

Grace bit her lip and headed for the stairs. Jason watched her until she disappeared. Then, he sat on the sofa and pulled a photo from his pocket—a picture of Grace in a floral dress.

"Is it you?" he whispered, as if questioning the little girl in the photo across time and space.

The silence answered him. In his mind, the photo overlapped with a painting he'd seen; the little girl in the painting resembled the girl in the photo, wearing a similar floral dress.

Coincidence? Jason's eyes grew cold. Or was she… the girl in the painting? If so…