Chapter 697 The Price of Mercy

Elsie thrashed wildly. “Illegal detention and abuse? That’s not me! I’m mentally ill! I don’t even know these people!”

Since her mental illness had already been officially documented, the police sent Elsie back to the community psychiatric hospital.

Lily and Owen, however, were taken to the station.

It was only at the police station that Owen learned what had happened: somehow, Timothy had managed to escape the iron cage and fled from the basement. Before he disappeared, he filed a police report.

Thanks to his statement, the authorities found the Saunders family’s basement–and inside, they discovered Peggy, barely alive.

Chunks of flesh were missing from her arms, torn as if by a wild animal.

After an investigation, the police confirmed that Peggy and Timothy had been locked in the same cage. With no food and starvation pushing him past the brink, Timothy had resorted to eating Peggy’s flesh to survive.

Peggy had lost consciousness from the torment and hunger.

Even after Owen was arrested, she still hadn’t woken up.

The police sat down with Owen. “Do you admit to your crimes?”

Owen said nothing.

The truth was out. Timothy had escaped. Peggy was alive. The evidence was undeniable.

Whether he confessed or not no longer mattered.

He didn’t want to talk about the past anymore. The law could do whatever it wanted with him.

Just then, the interrogation room door creaked open. A uniformed officer stepped in and whispered something to the lead investigator.

The officer nodded, then took a small item from his colleague and approached Owen.

“Pain’s hard to endure, isn’t it?” he said. “This is a painkiller Yunice had someone deliver for you. We’ve already checked it; nothing suspicious. You can take it to ease your pain a bit.”

Owen, slumped and lifeless, slowly widened his eyes at those words. He looked up, stunned, at the pill in the officer’s hand.

Everyone saw him as a criminal–a remorseless monster who refused to speak.

But someone had remembered him. Someone knew the pain might be too much to even talk through.

It was Yunice.

It was Yunice who still remembered him.

Tears rolled silently down Owen’s face, hot as they hit the back of his hand.

The officer placed the pill on the table and left, instructing the others outside, “He just had a liver transplant. Let him recover a little before we question him further.”

“That’s against protocol, isn’t it?”

The officer said something under his breath. The others gave in. “All right.”

Owen clutched the pill in his hand as he was sent back to a private medical room.

Treatment continued.

He lay on the bed, placed the pill Yunice had sent into his mouth, and swallowed it dry.

Then he lay there flat on his back, eyes wide open, unmoving.

His mind played back the movie of his life.

It seemed like he’d never truly had anything.

He could barely remember any happy moments. Maybe the only true joy he’d ever known was from when Yunice was still a little girl, chasing after him and calling his name.

The sound of childhood laughter echoed faintly in his ears–only to shift to a scene from seven years ago, the day he picked Yunice up from the asylum.

She’d been so distant. So cold. So numb.

And he hadn’t felt sorry for her. He’d scolded her for being ungrateful.

If he’d just embraced her that day–if he’d said, “You’ve suffered enough”–wouldn’t everything be different now?

The pill worked. The pain faded.

But the ache in his heart threatened to tear him apart.

Covering his eyes with a trembling hand, he sat up and called for the guard.

“I’ll confess,” he said. “But on one condition. I want to see Yunice.”

As night fell, Yunice had just landed.

She knew Owen’s situation like the back of her hand–everything was under her control.

His request to see her didn’t surprise her.

Wyatt dropped her off at the entrance of the detention center.

She walked in alone.

Chapter 697 The Price of Mercy

Through the glass pane, Yunice and Owen looked like they belonged to two different worlds.

Owen sat slouched in his chair, pale and brittle, lips cracked, back hunched with weakness.

His eyes trailed over Yunice–from head to toe.

She wore a white fur shawl. Her porcelain skin glowed with health and vitality, like a soft little cake straight from the oven.

She looked better than he’d ever seen her–pampered, content, whole.

No one spoke first.

Owen stared at her for a long time before finally breaking the silence.

“It’s late. Did I disturb you?”

“I’m studying at the medical university now,” Yunice said calmly. “I just finished class. When I heard you wanted to see me, Wyatt sent a helicopter. I’ll fly back in the morning–it won’t delay anything.”

She spoke with the serene composure of someone meeting an old friend.

But that very calmness made Owen’s throat tighten.

He felt like crying.