As I stared at the masked man standing before me, the name 'Z' echoed in my head. What an absurd name. Clearly, it was fake. Who would tell their real name in this situation? But that wasn't the point—why would he even bother telling me a name at all, fake or otherwise? I kept asking myself, 'Why?' Was he mocking me? Toying with my emotions? I had so many questions, but the one that burned the most was: Did he kill my daughter and stage it as a suicide?
My mind was reeling. He must not have expected me to arrive when I did. That's why he was hiding, waiting, and then he knocked me unconscious with a stun gun. I gritted my teeth, rage bubbling up inside me.
"You ba*tard!" I spat, my voice shaking with fury. "Did you kill my daughter? Why—why her? If you had a problem with me, you should have come after me, not her!"
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