?<strong>Chapter 847:</strong>


    Fannie had filled Dulce in on Fiona’s recent developments. Apparently, the divorce was final.


    Fiona had received most of Crowell’s assets, including those he had secretly transferred, which the judge still recognized as marital property.


    Though Fiona didn’t win custody, the judge allowed her to care for her son until he was old enough to decide for himself.


    Thewyer Michael had found for Fiona was well-known and respected, and it was clear that Michael had gone above and beyond to help her. Dulce had also heard that Michael had found Fiona a job and allowed her to live in one of his properties. Every action Michael took to help Fiona seemed like an unspoken tribute to his love for Lacey.


    Dulce took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes following Crowell as he ced his son into the car. His behavior was unsettling.


    Despite the mild weather, Crowell kept wiping sweat from his brow, his eyes darting around nervously, clearly agitated. Something about his actions didn’t sit right with Dulce. Just as she was about to act on her unease, Crowell’s car pulled away.


    The final nce he gave the child felt wrong—rather than the warm look of a father, his eyes were filled with a cold, calcting malice.


    A chill ran down Dulce’s spine, and though she couldn’t pinpoint why, the instinct to act was stronger than her hesitation. Trusting her gut, she set her coffee down and rushed out of the store.


    Her car was parked just up the road, and she could still see the taillights of Crowell’s vehicle disappearing around the corner. Without thinking, she started her car and mmed the elerator, chasing after him.


    Crowell brought his son to his new home. The apartment boasted expansive views of the river, and the open balcony windows featured shatterproof ss, rising a meter high to safeguard against falls.


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    With a toy in hand, Crowell led his son towards the balcony’s edge. His son looked down, fascinated by the view below. Crowell moved closer, his steps tentative.


    At that moment, Cara called him. “Is it done?”


    “Not yet.”


    “Don’t hold back. Fiona took so much from you. She must pay for it!”


    Crowell had secured a high-value personal ident insurance policy for his son. If he could orchestrate his son’s fall from the balcony to appear idental, he could recoup his losses. Without a son anymore, he could finally marry Cara.


    “I understand,” Crowell replied.


    As he hoisted his son’s legs, Crowell ceased to be a parent and transformed entirely into a criminal.


    Dulce’s car was stalled outside, and she couldn’t enter. After persistent persuasion, she was finally allowed into theplex. Just as the little boy fell, she reached the ground floor.


    None of the neighbors nced up. Only Dulce, catching her breath, summoned all her strength and dashed toward the plummeting child. “Ah!”


    The child’s cries captured the attention of everyone present, yet Crowell was absent from the balcony.


    Dulce sprinted so fiercely that her legs became numb, propelling herself faster than ever before. As she dove forward, her arms stretched out, yet she failed to catch him.


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