Fake heiress Real heroine

Chapter 245
JUUZ
“What? The killer? Where? Donny, notify the station to take action immediately!” Bennett sat up straight, ready to rush out
Quinlyn switched the call to video, letting him see for himself.
On screen, two bodyguards were holding a man in a filthy room.
“They found a black trench coat, dress pants, and size 45 shoes that were way too big–all soaked. The soles were muddy,
matching the volcanic black mud from the villa’s flowerbed. Blood was also present; lab tests will confirm it‘
Bennett watched as evidence was pulled from the trash, even blood tests were done. “Wow, are bodyguards this professional
now?”
“Now we should send him to Bennett at the station,” a bodyguard said, indicating they had him covered.
“Oh, thanks,” Bennett hung up, dazed, and was ushered back to finish his noodles.
The noodles were bland and overcooked. Just as he wanted some chili sauce, he felt something was off.
“We’ve been searching for this case forever, and you found the solution this easily. How did you do that? I can’t even write my
report now.”
Quinlyn talked about the website while eating her noodles.
Bennett frowned. “There’s an organization forming. If they just wanted attention, that’s one thing. If they truly view Zane as a
belief, that’s another issue.”
The law’s greatest challenge is faith; otherwise, how could Buddhism and Daoism last for centuries?
After finishing their noodles, they decided to hurry back to the station to investigate thoroughly.
Zane still needed to be questioned.
“Thanks, Quinlyn. I’ve handled cases for years, but when it comes to Zane, I’m still a little rattled.”

After seeing the police officers off at the door, Cher finally sighed in relief and smiled wryly. “This is what ‘worried‘ looks like.”
‘But you looked happy,’ Quinlyn thought. She remembered how Cher, while serving noodles, fed Zane at the floor–to–ceiling
window.
Cher, who said she was hungry, ended up giving everything to him. This caring and protective gesture made Quinlyn feel the
warmth of home.

As Quinlyn headed upstairs to sleep, she paused at the art studio door, pointing at the painting on the floor titled “Angels and
Demons.” “Cher, the angel you painted is Zane, and the demon is yourself, right?”
Cher’s footsteps halted as she gazed at the painting.
It was in the entrance; she saw it daily but only picked it up when the child was coming over a few days ago.
“Yep, you’re right.” Cher nodded, smirking slightly. “I graduated and became a judge early; my family paved the way for my
career in Jelasica, making life smooth.”
“My mentor always said that only someone with a pure heart, who hasn’t suffered, can wield a gavel fairly—strictly adhering to
laws and rules. At first, I disagreed.“
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Chapter 245
“Then I met Zane, who killed 14 people, No matter what, he deserved the death penalty; I thought I wouldn’t hesitate.”
58)
“But when I received those letters, the morning the lawyer clearly indicated he would accept his sentence, I first realized that
tearing off this legal robe, I was the real demon.”
“Even out of guilt, after the verdict, I went to see him to inform him he could appeal. Those pieces of evidence could get him
public sympathy, more chances for a reduced sentence, but he wouldn’t have it.”
Not willing. Those words weigh heavily on a life–sentenced prisoner; she couldn’t even imagine.

“Luckily, he fought for himself.”
Quinlyn looked at the painting and then at her. “Does being a demon judge not bother you?” ‘It’s supposed to be a sacred
profession, yet stained,‘ she thoughts
At this, Cher chuckled, bending down to meet her gaze. “Justice isn’t in the clothes I wear; it’s in my heart.”
“The law isn’t perfect; it can’t cover all human flaws or guarantee justice. My gavel shouldn’t just follow rigid rules but should also
correct and supervise.”
“Quinlyn, the gray line between angels and demons is something you have to learn to navigate yourself. Understand that doing
evil isn’t always true evil, and doing good isn’t always pure good.”
At that moment, Quinlyn felt the wisdom of adults, a culmination of experiences beyond any textbook knowledge.
She gently nodded and entered the studio the next morning to create a painting.

When Stanley arrived to pick her up, she was at a loss, staring at the wet paint with no direction.
“Someone died downstairs, and you’re still in the mood to paint? You’re something else,” he said, entering and mentioning Cher
went to the station to wait for her husband. Then he looked at the sunlight shining on the canvas. “Who is this? She looks
stunning.”
It was someone he hadn’t seen before.
“This is Xena,” Quinlyn wiped her hands clean and admired the painting with him. “I want to bring her home.”
Stanley fell silent, thinking about Xena. He had heard a lot about her, the hunter on Rainbow Island who tricked kids and was
dealt with personally by Quinlyn. She could be considered the source of all that disaster and had wounded Quinlyn’s heart.
After Quinlyn came back, no one dared to mention it, and they hadn’t seen any reaction from her. They thought she had
forgotten, but it wasn’t forgetting; she was scared to touch the wound.
“Do you blame yourself for not saving her?” Stanley asked hesitantly.
“I used to. I thought she wasn’t bad,” Quinlyn admitted. “But Cher is right; there’s no absolute good or bad. I just need to do the
right things. I want to bring her home.”

At least in spring, the villa’s flowers were beautiful. Besides stargazing and the ocean, she could enjoy the blooms.
At 10 AM, the villa was reopened, confirming the capture of the killer. This murder case was closed.
Just as Stanley was putting the dried painting in the car to take Quinlyn back, he received a call from Bennett.
They rerouted to the police station.
“Bennett, are you hiring child labor? How many times have you done this?” Stanley complained about the special case team
bugging Quinlyn, wondering if they were looking for trouble.
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But this time, Bennett swore, “We just want to share the truth. Quinlyn is the main contributor; she’s not doing anything else.”
“Pfft.” Stanley scoffed, but he still tagged along with Quinlyn to the interrogation room.
Robin, the man brought back by the bodyguards had a striking resemblance to Zane–tall at 5.9 feet, wiry, and dressed in a coat
that could easily be mistaken for Zane from a distance.
“I’m the chosen one, the successor of the divine. My looks, career, and experiences mirror his exactly. Why can he be a hero and
not me?”
“That person I killed? He was abusive, a violent parent. He stopped his vicious ways, so why can’t I inherit what he left behind?”
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