Chapter 12

In Frankland. Avery, or rather, Zoe, sat at the dining table in a haze. She was wearing a haute couture gown and a freshly auctioned pink diamond necklace worth millions of dollars. Fixed on the red wine in her glass, her mind drifted. Everything felt like a dream. She could hardly believe that her life had split into two halves. Just a month ago, Zoe was in a living hell. She suffered both physically and mentally. Yet now, here she was in an Orlendian-style villa. She was even drinking one of the world's rarest wines, of which only ten bottles existed. Guilt-ridden, her father, Rowan Quinn, spared no effort in making it up to her. It was as if he were desperate to make up for a lifetime of neglect in one fell swoop. The moment Zoe stepped off the plane, a stretch limousine whisked her away to a villa on the outskirts. The house was dim, lit only by a few scattered candles. Then, the old man on the bed raised a frail, trembling hand and took hold of hers. "You must be Zoe," he