When His Perfect Mask Shattered I Awoke (Anneliese) novel Chapter 749

Jonathan spoke as though what they were discussing had nothing to do with him at all—as though it were not something he himself had experienced.

"You've said the same things more than once, and each time, you speak with such pain and sincerity. It's almost as if you were speaking the truth. At this point, I can even finish the story for you," he said coldly. "You tried to reach my room from the window, but you slipped and fell, hit your head, and briefly lost consciousness. By the time you woke up, the firefighters had already arrived. You were desperate to rush back into the fire to rescue me, but were stopped by them. Isn't that about right?"

"That's exactly how it was!" Elizabeth nodded. "Jonathan, don't you believe me?"

She looked at her son with a mix of hope and hurt in her eyes, but he merely gave a soft scoff of disdain through his nose.

Whether it was then or now, she had always used the same script to describe what had happened that night.

The mockery in his eyes deepened. "Have you repeated the story so many times that you've even managed to deceive yourself?"

Her gaze flickered sharply again. The unease gnawing at her had become impossible to ignore.

Why does he keep talking about the fire that night?

Don't tell me…

Has he uncovered what really happened that day—and the real cause of the fire?

"I-I swear, I'm telling the truth! Your misunderstanding of me runs too deep, Jonathan. I admit, I neglected you when you were little. I often failed to be a proper mother to you, but no mother would ever ignore her own child's life at a moment like that! I—"

He found her hollow words utterly laughable. Taking out his phone, he tapped on the screen several times, then turned it around, holding up an old photo before her eyes.

"Then explain this."

It was a somewhat blurry photograph. Against a dark background, a disheveled figure stood barefoot under a streetlamp, wearing only light clothing. She had her hands on her hips, gasping for air as though she had been running for her life. Though the light from the streetlamp was faint, it perfectly illuminated half of the woman's face—it was unmistakably Elizabeth.

In the upper right corner of the photograph, one could vaguely see a patch of night sky glowing bright red—clearly from the raging flames of a burning villa.

Furthermore, there was a timestamp on the lower right corner—showing exactly when the photo was taken.

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