Chapter 1212
Hubert grabbed his briefcase, ready to head out. On the desk, the old report about Nathaniel killing Marisole still lay there.
Back in the day, newspapers had these graphic images.
The photo with the news showed Marisole lying in the grass, eyes wide open.
Hubert had just told Rose that Chelsea was a respectable businesswoman who wouldn't mess with him. But as he stepped out of the hotel room, a few tall, burly guys with fierce looks approached him. "Mr. Graham, our boss wants to see you. Please come with us."
Hubert glanced at them.
He even noticed one of them holding a rope and a burlap sack.
Hubert was speechless.
Half an hour later, they shoved him into a room with a super soft carpet.
He felt a bit relieved. Maybe because he cooperated, they didn't use the burlap sack and rope.
He hadn't even steadied himself when the door shut behind him.
Hubert looked up and saw a slender figure by a vintage window, staring at a tree outside.
"Ms. Rhoads," Hubert spoke up.
Fiona turned around. "You're here."
Hubert gave a wry smile. "With the burlap sack and rope, even if I didn't come, they would've dragged me here, right?"
Fiona walked over and sat on a red velvet sofa. "Sit."
Hubert obediently sat in the chair opposite Fiona.
"Let's talk about your parents' accident." Fiona's gaze was sharp and piercing.
She exuded a sense of menace, as if she knew the whole truth.
Hubert's expression changed slightly. "What do you want to talk about?"
"How do you think the accident happened?" Fiona asked.
"In the months before my dad died, he was restless because he had learned something. He forgot to maintain and inspect the car. On the day of the accident, he encountered extreme weather, the brakes failed, and there was a severe collision on the highway, causing him and my mom to die on the spot." Hubert looked at Fiona.
He paused, then added, "That day was my birthday. They were on their way home from the research institute when the accident happened."
Fiona's eyes trembled slightly.
Hubert said, "I know what you're suspecting. For a long time, I believed that my dad had discovered Brooke's shocking secret, so she chose to kill him. I was consumed by hatred, thinking every day about how to make her pay."
Fiona stayed silent.
Hubert looked out the window. "Until I was eighteen, I accidentally learned that after my dad's death, it was Brooke who had been secretly helping me. I got into my dream school, and despite my young age, someone was willing to pay a lot to support my research projects. Every year on my birthday, I received gifts, each with a handwritten letter from her."
His voice choked up. "My grandparents and maternal grandparents resented me because I insisted on having my parents come back to celebrate my birthday, which led to their deaths. They raised me and treated me well, but I knew they hated me. Because of me, they lost their loved ones. After that day, there were only my parents' death anniversaries, not my birthday."
When Aldrich died, Hubert was still young.
A three or four-year-old kid naturally wanted his parents to celebrate his birthday with him.
He didn't know the car was broken, nor did he know that Aldrich and Rebecca would die on their way home.
If he had a choice and he had known, he definitely wouldn't have chosen to celebrate that damned birthday!
"She was the only one who celebrated my birthday." Hubert smiled at Fiona, then shrugged. "Those years, her letters and gifts kept me from sinking into deep guilt. Every time I saw her handwriting, it was the happiest moment of the year for me."
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