Elena tossed her hair back, holding a Chanel haute couture clutch in one hand while her light green high heels clicked against the polished tiles. She was in high spirits, ready to drive to the beauty salon for a personalized manicure.


    Just as she was about to leave, a young female reporter approached with a microphone in hand, followed closely by a cameraman carrying a large video camera. The sudden encounter startled Elena, but she quickly grasped the situation.


    The young reporter, smiling brightly, asked, “Mrs. Elena, may I ask you a few questions?”


    Elena nodded gently, responding with a composed smile. “Of course.”


    “Mrs. Elena, three years ago, you published the novel Phil under the pseudonym Phoenix, receiving widespread acclaim from readers. I''ve heard that Phil is approaching its grand finale. Is that true?”


    Elena brushed back a few stray strands of hair, adjusted her posture, and curved her lips into a perfectly measured smile. “Yes, that’s correct. I’ve recently finished the ending of Phil, and it won’t be long before it meets the readers.”


    “Wow, that’s really exciting! After finishing Phil, do you have any plans for your next novel?”


    For a brief moment, a flicker of panic flashed in Elena’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with an air of confidence. “Well… I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”


    “Understood! Thank you, Mrs. Elena, for taking the time for this interview.” The young reporter turned to the camera with a professional smile. “Phil tells the story of a basement-dwelling rat who, through deception, manages to portray itself as a hero who saved the forest...”


    Elena turned away, her face darkening as she walked off hastily. Only she knew why.


    Just two days ago, she had been attending a socialite tea party, casually sipping on afternoon tea and chatting with other affluent ladies. However, Ava, her usually composed assistant, had rushed in with a panicked look. Leaning in, she whispered anxiously in Elena’s ear, “Madam, it’s bad news—the one on Beach Avenue… she was died.”


    “What?!” Elena shot up from her seat, her brows furrowing tightly. “Come with me.”


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Still wearing a fake, gentle smile, she turned to the other ladies. “I’m terribly sorry, but my child at home is being a little troublemaker and is insisting on seeing his mother. I must be off for now.”


    As they walked away, Elena’s expression darkened. “How the hell did this happen?”


    Ava lowered her head in submission. “I brought in a doctor from a small private clinic to check on her. He said she passed due to long-term emotional distress—depression, in short.” She hesitated before adding, “Don’t worry, madam. I’ve taken care of it. The doctor won’t say a word to anyone.”


    On the drive to Beach Avenue, Ava found her thoughts drifting. The woman imprisoned in that basement had always seemed so pitiful. Ava had only been ordered to bring her food occasionally, but she had observed her closely—her hair had turned completely white, deep wrinkles and nasolabial folds etched onto her face, time having left merciless marks.


    Ava shook her head. Despite her own relatively comfortable life, she couldn''t imagine what it must be like for an elderly woman to be confined in a dark, windowless basement every day. It was enough to drive anyone mad.


    The first time Ava had entered that basement, she had been startled by the woman’s erratic behavior. The frail prisoner would mutter, “My daughter… my daughter… where are you?” Sometimes, she would seem lucid, her cloudy eyes staring into space as if lost in thought. At times, she would burst into sudden laughter, clutching a pillow like an infant. Other times, she would prop her chin on her hand, lost in contemplation, before scribbling something on blank sheets of paper—outlines, as if she were writing a novel.


    Recalling the state she had been in at the time of her death, Ava let out a heavy sigh. These rich people are truly despicable. She didn’t know the full story, but imprisoning an old woman like that was nothing short of unforgivable. And yet, with her own two children under Elena’s control, she didn’t have the courage to betray her.


    When they arrived, Ava opened the door for Elena. The woman pinched her nose in disgust before stepping inside.


    There, lying lifelessly on the bed, was the old woman—her eyes wide open, dried tears staining the corners. The meal Ava had delivered earlier remained untouched by the bedside. But the woman was already gone.


    Elena shot her a look of pure disdain, waving her hand in front of her nose as if to dispel an imaginary stench. Her gaze then landed on the papers scattered across the desk, filled with writing. Excited, she picked them up—only for her face to instantly darken again.


    “What the hell is this garbage?! Victoria, how dare you disobey me?!” she roared, shredding the pages into tiny pieces. Even that wasn’t enough to satisfy her fury.


    “Get rid of the body. Bury her somewhere. Just looking at her is bad luck.”


    Meanwhile, sitting in front of a television, Vispera watched Elena’s interview with eyes as sharp as knives. Clenching her teeth, she seethed with rage.


    “Sophia, you stole my life… and now you’re claiming my mother’s work as your own.


    Fine. Let me show you how Phil is truly supposed to end.”