For three years, she’d known this day would come. She’d steeled herself for it.
But even so, regret lingered in her heart.
She’d broken her promise.
She hadn’t made *The Almanac of Air* a household name.
And she hadn’t saved Payne.
Nora kept silent, and Eleanor’s threats landed on deaf ears—like arrows shot into cotton, all their sting blunted, leaving only frustration behind.
Still, it didn’t matter. Eleanor wasn’t the only one who wanted Nora to pay.
There was a queue forming; everyone was eager to see her brought low.
Mrs. Quinn burst in, pointing at Nora, her voice thick with venom. “You killed my beloved daughter, you murderer!”
She looked utterly heartbroken—as though it hadn’t been her own choice to abandon her daughter in the countryside for twenty years, never once looking back.
“Spare me the act. If you really loved Aurora, how could you not even recognize your own child?” Nora’s laugh was cold, sharp as glass.
Mrs. Quinn’s wailing faltered. She tried to defend herself, “You two looked so much alike…”
Nora shook her head, a hollow smile on her lips. “Did we really look so alike that even our own mother couldn’t tell us apart?”
Mrs. Quinn had no answer. The truth was, she could barely remember what her second daughter looked like anymore.
Maybe she looked like Nora.
Or maybe there were differences she’d forgotten.
Louis was the third to arrive.
His expression was conflicted. He wanted to ask something, but his mind was a blank—the result of a memory lost and never recovered.
Finally, he relied on what Nora had once told him and asked, “You said she was from the orphanage…”
“It wasn’t her. It was me.” Nora’s voice was gentle, no longer willing to deceive this pitiful man.

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