Chapter 15 – The Setup

Mannie’s POV

I stared at Clarissa Lin’s number on my phone for a long time.

I wasn’t shaking.

I was boiling.

This wasn’t just about me anymore. This was about every woman Evan had hurt. Every victim who never got justice. Every woman who walked into that office scared of a man with power and a fake smile.

So I typed out the message.

"Your husband tried to force me into a hotel room tonight. I have the proof. You deserve to know the truth. Room 302, Northview Hotel. Come see for yourself."

I hit send before I could overthink it.

Then I sat back.

And waited.

Minutes passed.

Then an hour.

Nothing.

I refreshed my inbox. I checked my call log.

Still nothing.

One hour.

Two.

Still nothing.

Maybe she didn’t believe me. Maybe she blocked me. Maybe she was in denial.

Or maybe…

Maybe she already knew.

My thoughts spiraled.

The house was quiet now. The kids were asleep. Except for Nate, of course.

He padded into the kitchen like a tiny shadow, carrying a notebook and looking far too serious for a five-year-old.

“You’re still up?” I asked softly.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. You were typing like a dragon stomping across the keyboard.”

I gave a tired smile. “Sorry.”

He climbed onto the stool beside me and opened his notebook. Pages of code and numbers. He’d even drawn a diagram of Evan’s office layout.

“You planning a mission?”

He didn’t smile. Just stared at the laptop.

“Bad guys get away when people wait too long to stop them.”

That hit me harder than I wanted it to.

But around midnight, my phone finally buzzed.

Unknown Number.

I picked it up.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then a voice—tight, unsure, almost robotic.

“Did you send me that message?”

Clarissa.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but—”

“I called him.”

I stopped.

“What?”

“I called Evan,” she said, voice cracking. “He picked up. Or maybe… maybe he didn’t mean to. I think it answered by mistake.”

My breath caught.

“And?”

“I heard him,” she whispered. “He was laughing. With someone. A woman. They were… talking dirty. She said something about how dumb wives are, and he laughed and said I only existed for his public image.”

My stomach turned.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” she continued. “But that voice… I know my husband’s voice. And the way she talked—so smug, like she owned him.”

I stayed quiet.

“I don’t know who you are,” Clarissa said slowly. “But if this is a trick—if you’re trying to ruin my marriage—”

“I’m not.”

Silence.

“Fine,” she snapped. “You want to prove something? I’m coming. I want to see this hotel with my own eyes.”

She hung up before I could respond.

I leaned back on the couch, letting my head rest against the cushions. My chest ached, not from fear, but from exhaustion. The day had been too long, too heavy and it still wasn’t over.

The lights in the apartment were dim now.

The kids were tucked in. Sophie had fallen asleep mid-sentence. Lily and Jay stopped arguing for once and dozed off holding hands. Zane had drawn some “super anti-pervert mom armor” and stuck it on the fridge. Adam finally passed out in his little dinosaur pajamas.

Nate, though? He was still fighting sleep like it was a personal enemy.

I walked into his room and found him blinking at the ceiling.

“Mom,” he said as I sat beside him, “what if the world’s full of people like Evan?”

“Then we teach it to fear the name Twain,” I whispered, brushing hair from his forehead.

He grinned sleepily. “Like Batman?”

“Better.”

After he drifted off, I finally turned off the last light and got ready to sleep. Just as I pulled the blanket over me, my phone buzzed again.

I frowned, my heart suddenly pounding.

It was a message from Evan.

“Room 302. Tonight. Come alone. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I sat up straight.

The time on the screen read 1:03 AM.

Why was he texting me now?

Was he drunk? Desperate? Stupid enough to still think I’d show up after everything?

I stared at the message.

Then I remembered Clarissa.

I quickly took a screenshot and sent it to her.

“He's still doing it. Sending this now. I’m going there. You should come too. Room 302. Let’s end this tonight.”

I didn’t wait for a response.

I threw on a hoodie, grabbed my pepper spray and the tiny recorder, and slipped out of the apartment. The night air slapped me awake the second I stepped outside.

I had no idea what I was walking into.

But I was done waiting.

--------

The hallway outside Room 302 was quiet. Too quiet.

The carpet muffled my steps as I approached the door. My heart thumped so loud I could barely hear myself breathe.

I tried the knob.

Unlocked.

With one slow push, I stepped inside.

The room smelled faintly of wine and something metallic.

It was dark, except for the yellow glow from the hallway lights spilling in through the open door.

I took one step inside.

And froze.

There, on the carpet in front of me, lay Evan Lin.

Lifeless.

His eyes wide open in horror.

A fruit knife was embedded in his chest. The blood soaked his shirt and spread across the carpet in a dark, sticky pool.

I didn’t scream.

I couldn’t.

My entire body locked up. My knees trembled. My hands curled into fists to stop them from shaking.

This… This wasn’t real.

I stepped back once, then forward again. My brain couldn’t process what I was seeing.

Dead?

No, no. Not like this.

I didn’t touch anything. I didn’t go near him.

But before I could even move—

The door creaked open behind me.

“Evan?” a woman’s voice called out. “Are you in—”

Clarissa.

She stepped inside and saw me standing over the body.

Everything changed in her face.

Shock.

Confusion.

Then horror.

Then rage.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she let out a blood-curdling scream.

“You—” she gasped. “You killed him!”

“What? No! No, I just got here—” I tried to explain, holding my hands up.

She backed away toward the hallway, fumbling for her phone. “You tricked me! You tricked me into coming here so you could murder him!”

“Clarissa, I didn’t—he texted me—” I stepped forward.

“Don’t come near me!” she screamed. “I’m calling the police! You’re sick!”

Before I could say another word, she was already on the line.

“Yes! Hotel Northview! Room 302! A woman just killed my husband! She’s still here!”

I took a step back, still frozen, my blood gone cold.

This was a setup.

But who?

Why?

Why would Evan tell me to come here… if he was already dead?

Was someone else using his phone?

Was someone trying to frame me?

The police sirens arrived fast. Security followed. Shouting. Questions. Flashing lights. Strong hands gripped my arms.

“I didn’t do this!” I yelled as they dragged me into the hallway.

Clarissa stood by the wall, crying, shaking. She wouldn’t look at me.

Someone handed her a blanket.

Someone else handcuffed me.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the officer began.

But I wasn’t silent.

“No! Wait! I didn’t do this!” I cried.

Clarissa stood frozen, sobbing. “She killed him. She said she had proof… I didn’t believe her… I should’ve…”

“You don’t understand!” I shouted, struggling against the guard’s grip. “I have kids! Please—check the cameras—check anything! I didn’t do this!”

But they didn’t listen.

They dragged me out, shoved me down the hall, past whispering guests and blinking cameras.

“Call Kayla!” I shouted. “Call my kids! I didn’t kill him—I was trying to expose him!”

They didn’t answer. They didn’t care.

They pushed me into the back of a patrol car like I was nothing.

And for the first time in years…

I was truly afraid.