Revenge is best served cold novel Chapter 1317

Late at night, Colby cruised down the road, streetlights rhythmically illuminating his face, while an old newspaper, yellowed with age, rested casually on the passenger seat. This relic from the past detailed a kidnapping case, yet Colby's expression remained unyielding, not a hint of a smile breaking through.

Finally reaching the seaside, Colby parked the car. He took the old newspaper in hand, walked to the shoreline, and with a flick of his lighter, set it ablaze. The flames danced, casting shadows over half of Colby's face. Only when the newspaper was reduced to ashes did he scatter them onto the sandy beach.

Meanwhile, at Burke Estate, Sophie lay in bed, drifting into sleep without realizing it. Her dreams were a collage of déjà vu—steamboats, flames, and cramped quarters. The salty sea threatened to engulf her, the humid air stifling her breath. She struggled to escape the water, but like someone on the brink of drowning, her efforts only pulled her deeper.

"Brother! Save me!" A little girl's piercing cries wrenched Sophie from her nightmare. In her dream, she had seen a young man with a blurred face racing toward her, only to be shoved into a reeking car. She couldn’t place the face, yet it felt hauntingly familiar.

A wave of panic unlike anything she'd ever felt surged through her, leaving her trembling as she climbed out of bed. She needed answers—desperately. Her mind buzzed with voices.

"Sophie, where did that scar on your back come from?"

"That doesn't look like it came from a fall..."

"Does Ms. Sophie remember anything from before she was seven or eight?"

These voices grew louder, more chaotic, until they merged into Timothy's words: "It's in the attic above the third floor, but... it's locked."