Chapter Sixty Five *Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures*

"No!" Andria yelled, looking at Mary's body before she looked at Liam.

"Why?" Andria asked as she kneeled down. Her legs couldn't help her any more.

"Mary," Lewis whispered, finally came out of his mouth, yet he was just gazing in surprise.

Andria was kneeling on the flower when she saw his feet. She slowly raised her head, wishing for it all to be a bad

dream, wishing that her man would just hold her in his arms and tell her that everything would be fine like he always did, but instead he didn't share a tear.

After killing Mary with cold blood, he was cold, acting like he did nothing or like what

he did was normal. When he grabbed Andria's hair, she thought about yelling or telling him to stop, to remember himself. But she didn't; she was doubting his feelings for her. Was it really that simple? that love has no orders or objections over

him

He threw her right in front of Alfred. With tired eyes and a broken faith, she looked Alfred in the eyes as she stood up.