Chapter 874

Alexander Hamilton inserted the restored dashcam memory card into his tablet. The footage that appeared on screen made the air freeze instantly.

The final moments of Bianca Langley's life began to play.

The lens captured only a hazy horizon and distant rolling waves. Two figures stood before the car hood.

Vincent Croix spoke first. His head still bandaged, his voice feigned calm but couldn't conceal anticipation: "You asked me here because you've come around? Hand over the company, and you can keep living as the privileged heiress."

He believed this was his ultimate concession.

Bianca sat on the reef, sea winds tangling her long hair. She sneered: "This is your sincerity? Can't even manage equal dialogue?"

Vincent remained standing above her. After leaving the civil affairs bureau, Bianca had requested this meeting—yet he'd delayed until sunset.

Arrogance at its extreme becomes insecurity. He needed this power play to maintain his fragile ego.

Bianca looked up at him with disdain: "Remember this place?"

Vincent gazed at the sea: "Our first date. You drove."

"I must've been blind back then." Bianca scoffed, clapping mechanically. "The damsel-in-distress act was staged, wasn't it? If I hadn't fallen for it, would you have produced some tear-jerking reunion show next?"

Her eyes brimmed with mockery.

Vincent admitted freely: "Yes. Because I loved you."

"Did you say that to that girl too?" Bianca asked abruptly.

Vincent paused before understanding, his tone shifting: "You care about that?"

Bianca dismissed him: "Sit down or leave."

"Let's talk in the car." Vincent frowned. "It's too cold here."

"Fine." Bianca pointed to the beach. "Fetch me a seashell. The same kind as before."

Vincent's expression darkened. Years ago, to impress her, he'd scavenged rare shells at low tide.

"The tides are rough lately. Might not find one."

"No shell, no discussion." Bianca turned away, hair whipping in the wind.

Gritting his teeth, Vincent trudged toward the shore. He mistook this for another spoiled whim.

As he walked away, Bianca suddenly returned to the car. Off-screen, metal snapped sharply.

Evelyn Carter and Alexander exchanged glances. Scissors severing brake lines.

When Vincent returned exhausted, Bianca was already in the driver's seat. As he pulled the door handle—click. The locks engaged.

"What are you doing?!" Vincent's face twisted in panic.

Bianca floored the accelerator. A hundred meters remained between them and the cliff.

Vincent lunged for the wheel, nails digging into leather. He stomped the brake—only to feel the pedal lifeless beneath his foot.

"I cut the lines." Bianca laughed wildly, fingers welded to the steering wheel. "This time, you won't hurt anyone else!"

Her nails tore backward from the force, blood smearing the wheel.

Suddenly, Vincent stopped struggling. Calmly, he pulled seashells from his pocket, letting them clatter to the floor.

"Fine." His smile turned eerie. "Then we die together. In the end, it's still me beside you—not Adrian."

As the car launched off the cliff, Bianca's laughter rang with liberation.

The deafening crash exploded through the speakers. Evelyn shuddered as Alexander gripped her icy hand.

Before the screen went black, the final frame froze on Vincent's grotesque grinning face.