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Olivia rocked in her chair, eyes hollow. She kept repeating, barely louder than a whisper, "He's back… he killed him… it's because of me."
The words made the detectives go still. They exchanged a quick glance, and in that instant, detective Mike's face hardened. He had worked the Vincent case three years ago—he'd been among the officers who cornered Vincent on that cliff.
He remembered the fall. He remembered the reports. He had never expected to hear that name spoken again.
"Miss Olivia," Detective Mike said, leaning forward. His voice sharpened. "Tell me everything—from the beginning. Who do you mean when you say 'he'?"
For a long moment, Olivia sat frozen, Vincent's warning replaying in her mind. Fear tightened her throat, making it impossible to speak. Her hand trembled beneath the table, hidden from view, while her eyes fixed on the seam of her sleeve instead of meeting detective Mike's gaze.
"Olivia, you need to explain," Detective Mike pressed, his eyes narrowing. "When you said Vincent is back—what exactly did you mean? Did he have anything to do with Reporter Joe's death?"
Olivia lifted her head slowly, her eyes haunted. "You might not believe me, but what I'm saying is the truth. Vincent is back." Her voice shook, but she forced herself to continue.
"Earlier today, I asked Reporter Joe to investigate him… to see if I was imagining things or thinking too much . But I wasn't." She stopped, her trembling hands twisting together under the table.
Detective Mike exchanged a quick glance with his partner, then leaned forward. "And why did you think Vincent had returned?"
Her lips quivered. "Because I met someone… someone whose presence, whose behavior was exactly like his. Too similar to ignore." She bit her lip, fear crawling down her spine.
Was she doing the right thing? Or was she only provoking Vincent into killing more people? Yet if she stayed silent, Joe's death would remain unsolved—and deep down, she knew it was her fault he had been dragged into this in the first place.
The other detective spoke up, his tone sharper. "Who is this man?"
Olivia hesitated before whispering the name that made the room fall silent. "My new boss—Lorenzo Ricci."
The air seemed to freeze. Detective Mike, his partner, and even the detectives monitoring the interrogation from the computers outside all stiffened. They had heard the name before. Lorenzo Ricci wasn't just a wealthy businessman—he was a legend.
He had taken failing companies and turned them into giants, elevating his father's company into one of Italy's top five conglomerates, and building an empire of his own that now ranked second in both Rome and the United States.
And now Olivia was saying he was Vincent.
"Detective Mike, you have to believe me," Olivia pleaded, her voice breaking. "How could it be just coincidence? The moment I began to suspect my boss and asked Reporter Joe to investigate—on the very same day that I told him Vincent had contacted me—Joe ends up murdered. Tell me, how could there be so many coincidences in this world?"
Mike's brows furrowed. "Wait. You're saying Vincent contacted you?"
"Yes," Olivia said firmly, though her hands trembled. "He called me at three o'clock this morning… and tonight, he came to threaten me in the parking lot of my office.
But that parking lot isn't a place anyone can just walk into—it has multiple checkpoints. How could Vincent get in without anyone noticing?"
Mike leaned forward, his expression dark. "So what you're suggesting is that Vincent and your boss—Lorenzo Ricci—might be the same person?"
Olivia's voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes… or at least they're connected somehow."
The other detective, sitting beside Mike, let out a harsh scoff, sneering. "Or maybe, Miss Olivia, you're trying to frame someone. How can we be sure you didn't kill Reporter Joe? You admitted you called him.
Maybe you fed him your theory, he didn't believe you, you argued, and when he went back home you slipped into his apartment and killed him. I heard the building's CCTV Camera was down today, and that people caused a disturbance at the gate earlier.
Maybe you used that to get in and out unnoticed, then returned later claiming you had an appointment so his body would be found. That way, no one would ever suspect you."
Olivia's eyes widened in disbelief. "No! I didn't kill him—I have an alibi! After meeting with Joe, I went straight back to the office. You can ask my coworkers. I would never—"
The interrogation room door suddenly swung open. William entered, his expression tight with worry, a lawyer at his side.
Two detectives followed close behind, one of them shooting detective Mike a helpless look — as if to say he had tried, and failed, to stop William from coming in.
William hurried to Olivia's side, his voice low but laced with worry. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"
At the sight of him, Olivia finally let out the breath she had been holding. For the first time since stepping into the interrogation room, her heart steadied. "I'm fine," she whispered, her voice faint but firm. "Don't worry… nothing happened to me."
Only after confirming with his own eyes that she was truly unharmed did William turn to face Detective Mike and the others. His expression hardened, his tone sharp.
"I'm taking her with me. She's been through enough tonight. If you have further questions, you can go through our lawyer."
Without waiting for a reply, William helped Olivia to her feet.
Detective Mike's gaze lingered on her, thoughtful but not hostile. "Miss Whitmore," he said evenly, "I'll look into the information you gave us. If I need clarification, I'll contact you later."
Olivia nodded, her voice steady but weighted with exhaustion. "Please do, Detective. I've told you the truth." With that, William led her out of the precinct.
Inside the car, Olivia closed her eyes, but peace did not come. Instead, the gruesome image of Reporter Joe's lifeless body haunted her. Vincent's chilling voice echoed in her mind, repeating over and over like a curse.
Watching her from the driver's seat, William's chest tightened with unspoken pain. He reached out, his voice softer now.
"You must be exhausted. Don't go back to work for a while. Your face is all over the news, and your mind is in no state to handle more stress. Tomorrow, I'll take you to see your therapist."
"No," Olivia murmured, her gaze fixed on the window. "Next week is soon enough. For now, I just want to rest. Please… tell Alexandra to take a day off in my place."
Her quiet refusal silenced him. He understood she didn't want to speak about it anymore.
When they finally reached home, Olivia went straight to the bathroom, showered, and slipped into bed without eating or uttering another word.
Later, William entered the bedroom. Seeing her lying there so fragile, he couldn't stop himself—he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
But Olivia jolted awake in panic. She struggled violently, almost toppling off the bed. William caught her just in time, holding her tightly as fear trembled through her body.
Please check out my two other new books—one is an Historical Harem novel and the other a fantasy Romance novel. I hope you can continue to support your author!