Phil immediately launched an investigation.
The results came back quickly.
It really was Kirsten.
“Why did you hire someone to kill her?”
His voice was cold, sharp enough to send shivers down Kirsten’s spine.
She opened her mouth to deny it, but the moment Phil threw stacks of evidence in front of her, her prepared excuses lodged in her throat.
“She killed my mother! I wanted revenge—what’s wrong with that?!”
Fearful that he might uncover more than just this, she quickly turned defensive, trying to take moral high ground.
“Brother, why are you always protecting her? Do you still love her?”
“That’s impossible!” Phil denied it immediately.
“Then why do you care so much about her?” Kirsten pressed, unwilling to let it go.
“I don’t care about her,” he said stiffly. “I care that you’re going down the wrong path. Didn’t I already tell you—don’t get blood on your hands?”
He forced himself to suppress the storm of emotions her words had stirred.
He couldn’t still love Tricia. He couldn’t afford to love her.
It would be an insult to his mother’s memory.
“You bullied her first, then treated her like a stray dog. When that wasn’t enough, you tried to burn her alive with gasoline. And when that failed, you hired a car to kill her.”
His voice turned steely.
“Kirsten, do you really think this is the way a woman should act?”
Kirsten let out a silent breath of relief.
So he only knew this much.
Putting on a pitiful expression, she whined, “Brother, I just couldn’t stand it. How could she still be walking around, alive and well, after our mother died?”
Phil clenched his jaw.
A flash of Tricia’s bloodied lips overlapped with the memory of his mother’s lifeless body in a pool of red.
A throbbing pain pulsed through his temples.
She had killed his mother.
And yet, he still shamelessly… loved her.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to bury those feelings once and for all.
“I warned her last time. She won’t show up in front of us again.” His voice was distant.
“That’s good.” Kirsten smiled sweetly. “Brother, don’t worry, I won’t do anything like this again. You focus on your work—I’ll leave you alone now.”
Without waiting for a response, she slipped out of his studies, moving as if she were running for her life, afraid that lingering any longer would expose her further.
Phil exhaled slowly, forcing himself to shove every thought of Tricia out of his mind.
He had more important things to focus on.
But that very night, he ran into something related to her once again.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop arranging business meetings in this damn place?”
His eyes darkened as he glared at the Beehive Club’s glowing sign, directing his frustration at his assistant.
The assistant quickly bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Knight. The venue was chosen by Mr. Mike—it was too late to change it.”
This was a crucial deal for the Knight Corporation.
Even if he hated it, he had to go in.
Yet, the moment he stepped inside, his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the staff carrying trays of drinks.
Was she here?
Would he see her?
But by the time the contract was signed, Tricia never appeared.
“Excuse me.”
A few glasses of alcohol had left his mind in a haze. He stepped out, hoping the cool night air would clear his head.
And then—
Just as he turned the corner, he overheard two club waiters chatting.
“You’ve been throwing up every day. You should really get checked. Remember our old colleague? He kept ignoring it, and by the time he went to the hospital, he found out it was stomach cancer.”
“Who was it? Is he still working here?”
“Tricia something… Oh! Tricia!”
At the sound of her name, Phil froze mid-step.
Before he even realized it, his body had moved faster than his mind.
He strode up to the girl and enunciated each word carefully.
“Who did you just say has stomach cancer?”
The waitress gasped. “P-President Knight?”
She took a nervous step back, startled by the intensity in his gaze.
Quickly, she stammered, “It—it’s one of our old colleagues. Tricia.”
It was really her.
A sharp ringing filled his ears.
His voice turned hoarse. “Did Tricia tell you to say this in front of me?”
Was this her way of making him feel guilty?
Was she trying to make him… forgive her?
The two waitresses shook their heads frantically.
“No! She hasn’t worked here in a long time.”
He asked again and again, but their answers never changed.
It wasn’t a lie.
Tricia… had really been diagnosed with stomach cancer.
Phil clenched his fists and turned to his assistant.
“Go to the hospital. Find out if it’s true.”
The next day, a medical report was placed on his desk.
For a long moment, he just stared at it.
Then, finally, he reached out—
And opened it.
