Chapter 002

Damien's fingers clutched my wrist with a desperate haste as his voice wavered with an unknown dread. "Jemma, I’m so sorry," he said. "This is not what I intended to happen. You must have faith in me.

I instinctively and sharply withdrew my arm from him. Though not for the reasons he had hoped, my heart raced. "Stop," I said in a barely audible whisper. "Just stop."

He started to say something, but my mind was a flurry of uncertainty and incredulity that drowned out his words. As though I were a criminal who needed to be restrained, the police officers stood in the hallway, their icy gazes fixed on me. My own ideas were alien, as though they were the thoughts of someone else.

It was unbelievable to me that this was taking place. There was still a part of me that hoped to wake up from this horror and discover it was all a dream. The flickering red lights from the police cruiser outside and the weight of their stares told me otherwise.

One of the cops remarked, "Jemma Wilson, we have a few questions for you," in a cold, clinical tone.

I hardly gave the words any thought. Damien was standing motionless next to me as my gaze met his. All of a sudden, the man who had vowed to defend and support me was no longer there. He looked anxiously at the officers, his face pallid and his lips quivering.

The cop went on, gesturing to the other, who was holding a file, "They've been talking about this all morning." "Your grandparents... their deaths... the cause is still under investigation, but we have reason to believe your involvement might not have been entirely accidental."

I felt like I was slapped by the words. The world spun into a blur as my throat constricted and I felt the ground move under me. "What do you mean?" I was able to croak out when I felt the room's walls enclose me.

"In their house, they were discovered. The officer said, "Toxicology reports show traces of poison," in a low voice that seemed like he was giving a death sentence. "Jemma, you were the last to see them. We must adhere to protocol.

I gave a headshake. The environment became blurry, and I was unable to think clearly. I said, "That’s... that’s impossible," as I gasped for air. "I didn’t... I didn’t do anything."

Damien put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Jemma, calm down," as though he was trying to comfort me. However, the contact felt alien, as if he had lost all significance in my life. "All right, let's solve this. We'll fix it, I swear.

I was unable to even gaze at him. Not after everything. Not after the events that transpired.

My grandparents are no longer with us. The people who had brought me up and shown me unwavering affection were no longer with us. And now they were accusing me of killing them. What sort of warped reality had I entered?

The officers looked at each other as though they were debating what to do. "Jemma," the first one said, his tone a little lower, "we have proof that you were responsible for their killings. We must ask you to accompany us, but we don't want to make any assumptions. for interrogation."

"No," I objected, fiercely shaking my head. "I’m not going anywhere."

With a stern expression, the second officer moved forward. "Miss Wilson, this is your only choice. We'll have to conduct a formal arrest if you don't comply."

Panic rushed through my veins, and my pulse shot through the roof. My mind went blank as I opened my mouth to say anything, anything to put an end to this lunacy. What on earth was going on? How was it possible for anyone to think that I, of all people, could accomplish this?

Damien repeated, "Jemma, please," in a breaking voice. "For the time being, just cooperate. We'll resolve this. You'll see. We'll demonstrate that you accomplished nothing.

However, I was no longer able to hear him. I was thinking incoherently. I was unable to think clearly. I was having trouble breathing.

The policemen were on the move already, leading me to the door with stern but kind guidance. My legs shook under me as they escorted me out of the apartment and into the dazzling daylight, causing me to feel lightheaded. I felt like I was getting farther and farther away from everything that had felt genuine and from everything I had known with each step.

Still trailing behind, Damien's speech could hardly be heard over the roar of blood in my ears. "Jemma, I promise that everything will be resolved. I'll speak with the attorneys. Nothing will be lost for you."

With trembling hands, I staggered forward. I was unable to look at him. I was no longer able to trust him. Not after all I had discovered about him, the secrets and the lies. Something cold and merciless, something sharp, constricted my chest. What had caused my blindness?

The police car's door opened with a hollow groan as the cops escorted me to it. As they shoved me into the backseat, the car's metallic smell mingling with the thick taste of panic in my mouth, I was scarcely able to process what was happening. It seemed as though my whole world was disintegrating into incomprehensible fragments.

I tried to calm my breathing and closed my eyes as the door banged shut. However, I could only picture my grandparents—warm, loving, and smiling—as well as the poison that had stolen them from me. What's the worst? The worst thing was that it appeared as though I had removed them.

In the interrogation chamber, the hours blended together. Trying to keep myself together and make sense of everything, I sat there with my hands gripped hard in my lap. I felt as though the walls were closing in on me, their coldness mocking me and their grayness suffocating.

How everything had changed so abruptly was beyond me. I had expected to put everything behind me and start over when I got home that morning, hoping for nothing more than a peaceful day with Damien. Nevertheless, I found myself stuck in this nightmare with no one to turn to.

Damien was not permitted to accompany me. I couldn't get rid of the impression that I was being abandoned and would have to deal with this situation on my own, and his words had been lost in the air as I was being dragged away. Breathing became difficult as the thought twisted in my chest.

The cop who had been interrogating me came back with a file. He simply stood there, staring at me with icy eyes, without taking a seat. "We’ve been looking over the evidence," he stated in a clinical manner. "It doesn’t look good, Jemma."

I swallowed, trying to remain calm. "I didn't do it. I promise. I didn't murder them.

He took a while to reply. He just displayed pictures of my grandparents' bodies with their faces twisted in their last moments. My stomach rumbled. My heart hurt.

Then I noticed something in the file.

A single word, a tiny detail, that brought everything to a halt.

Alina.

The name caught my attention. My throat tightened each breath. What did she have to do with this? Why had she—?

The officer grinned when he saw my response. "You were unaware? Jemma, it was Alina who discovered them. It was she who made the call.

Then, like a freight train, the reality struck me.

Damien's treachery wasn't an isolated incident. It was a component of something far larger. Something far more hazardous.