Revenge After Death ( Michael Ford ) novel Chapter 343

I flipped through the logs and read: "Stephie vomited again today. The medicine that Peter had prescribed seemed to have some strong effects. The child had adverse reactions to it and has become rather dull."

"Wendell took Stephie to the orphanage today. When she came back, her clothes were all torn. I was worried that she had fought with the other kids there. I asked Wendell about it, but he said that she had been well-behaved today. Stephie didn't get into any fights, and she even learned how to cry!"

I was reading between the lines. It was apparent that my mother was very excited about the fact that I had cried.

I carefully recalled the vague and foggy memories.

Before I met Steven, it seemed that I really wouldn't cry. I hadn't cried when I was born.

Doctors at the time thought I was mute, but I started to speak a lot earlier than others my age.

Later, they would deliberately try to provoke and hit me to incite a reaction, but I never cried.

According to the logs, the first time I cried was when I went to the orphanage. I was wearing a red dress at the time.

I believe that was the day when the people at the orphanage tried to take my dress off.

I carefully went through the logs and found that my mother's records about me were very detailed. She had logged in an entry almost every day. But on the days when I was sent to the asylum, the logs were blank. No records were made.

It indicated that my parents probably didn't know what Peter's treatment for me entailed.

I went to the next log and read: "Stephie got angry at the neighbors today because they complained about us having a large dog. She was mad that they wanted us to get rid of Georgie."

…

My mother had only recorded my daily life at home in her logs.

What surprised me was that she hadn't mentioned anything about Steven or Simeon at all. It felt as if she had excluded them on purpose.

I was close to Steven and Simeon, so my parents couldn't have not known about my relationship with Steven.

But I couldn't work out why she didn't mention a word about it in the logs.

She had only mentioned them vaguely once. The log read: "Stephie made some friends at the orphanage. They seem to trust her a lot and like her very much."

There was another sentence from another log that read: "Stephie seems to naturally attract children with congenital personality defects. They seem very trusting of her and they get along very well."

I carefully went through the logs. Most of which were mundane daily reports of my life, but those two sentences made my scalp tingle.

I kept in mind what Zion and Eason had said. They said that these didn't seem like regular logs, but more like records made when conducting an experiment.

I took a deep breath and continued to flip through the logs.

It turned out that my parents hadn't even called the police during this time.

And from looking at the photos, it was evident that my mother's first reaction upon seeing me wasn't to rescue me, but to take a photo of me first.

What was even more bizarre was that in my memory, I remember my mother loving me a lot. But according to the logs she had kept, it didn't seem like she felt anything other than indifference during the time I had disappeared.

I couldn't feel her worry or panic over me. The logs she wrote felt like detached daily reports instead.

I scrolled further down with trembling fingers. I needed to find out who Number 0 was.

A log on April 9th read: Number 0 was also found. He was brought back home by Andy Lincoln. He promised to discipline his son and ban him from bothering Stephie again.

I stared at my screen in shock. My mom had taken a photo for the April 9th log. It was a photo of Steven.

It turned out that Number 0 was Steven. I couldn't work out why they gave Steven a code name.

In the photo, Steven seemed to be struggling desperately. However, he was pinned down by the Lincoln family's bodyguards. Andy could be seen in the photo as well.

I stared at the man in the photo, who had been referred to as Steven's biological father. I furrowed my brows slightly as I examined him.

The way Andy looked at Steven was off. It looked as if Andy wasn't even looking at his own son. He was looking at Steven as if he were a lunatic, a monster. But at the same time, there was a hint of sadness in his gaze.