Murray fell silent.
He opened the drawer of the bedside table, took out a cigar, and lit it with a lighter. Holding the cigar, Murray knitted his brows with a touch of melancholy. His expression was stony amid the smoke.
"Lily... is the girl kidnapped with me when I was little," Murray’s voice was bitter. Finishing the words, he extinguished the sparks on his fingertips.
Kidnapped? Melissa frowned. She remembered Murray has asked her several times. "Melissa, have you ever been kidnapped?"
"Melissa, are you sure you have never been kidnapped?"
Is Murray treating her as Lily? Or perhaps, Lily's substitute?
Murray kept telling the tragedy, "I was the kidnappers' target. Lily just happened to pass by, and she was innocently implicated by me. We were locked in a dark wooden house, spendin
