Arthur leans backwards slightly into the chair, his fingers unconsciously intertwined with Bethany’s the entire time. His voice, though calm and measured, carries the weight of the truth he has just lay bare while the whole world is listening.“I won’t pretend that everything was perfect me either,” he continues, his gaze shifting from Tammy to Millicent, who sits silently, her eyes narrowing slightly as she listens painfully. “There were faults on both sides, mine inclusive. I totally failed to see how my wife really felt during that time. Millicent was an actress nevertheless, she was good at hiding emotions, burying them beneath the surface. She never spoke up, and I assumed her silence meant everything was fine, I thought it was all fine when she helped blow the balloons, arrange the toys, I thought it was fine as she watched me arrange the baby’s crib… But it wasn’t.”Tammy listens intently, her eyes widening with every word, clearly taken aback by the candor of Arthur’s confessio
“Is your car parked outside by any chance?”John raises his head, surprised at the random question. “Yes, why do you ask?”“Where were you on the day of Sienna’s murder? We have both established that you knew her and were her benefactor for two years? That is touching and sweet but before we release you, where were you on the day of her murder?”I had gone to her place.“I had a meeting with a Kevin Fitzpatrick.”“Really? Do you have his phone number? This is just to confirm your alibi.” Marsh inquires, a small smile at the edge of his mouth. Only himself, for now, knows the direction he is headed.“Yes… Yes, I have his number.”Eager to get the hell out of there, John easily calls out the string of numbers to Marsh as the detective, in turn, dials the number.“Okay, I will give him a call now…” Marsh dials.The line rings once, and then cuts off.Marsh redials.The line cuts off again.“Looks like he is busy or it is a bad network issue. Since you are here anyway, we will just check
In the suffocating darkness of the room, the only sound that fills the air is Millicent’s heavy sniffling. The curtains are drawn tightly, shutting out the outside world, the light, and everything that once made her feel like a star. The room itself is bare, save for a few pieces of scattered furniture. The only things that catch any attention are the pictures plastered on the wall, a stark contrast to the dreary surroundings.Millicent sits huddled in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest as tears stream down her face. Her sobs are quiet, almost muffled, but the pain in her heart feels loud, intrusive. Her once carefully maintained composure has shattered, and now, all that’s left is this overwhelming sense of emptiness. The room feels cold, like her spirit has been frozen in time.The door creaks open, and her new manager steps in quietly, carrying a tray of food in his hands. He pauses when he sees the untouched plate from earlier, his brows furrowing with concern.He places
The two financial officers drag Kevin out of Campbell Conglomerate, his face twisted with anger and fear. His mind races as they force him into a black van parked just outside the building. He struggles, trying to pull away, but their grip on him is too strong.His cheeks are swollen red and his hands are tight in a fist.“Get in,” one of the officers barks, pushing him roughly into the back seat of the van.Kevin lands on the seat with a grunt on his backside, his hands cuffed tightly behind his back. He glares at the officers, his eyes wild with desperation. “You can’t do this! You’re making a mistake! Get me that bitch and I'll show her twenty billion dollars!” he shouts, but his words fall on deaf ears.The door slams shut, leaving Kevin trapped in the darkened interior of the van. The doors are locked loudly, the windows are heavily tinted, so he can’t see what’s going on outside and he guesses the same for those on the outside. The van starts moving, and for the first few minut
The house is covered in the silence of early in the morning, with the soft glow of daylight just beginning to filter through the room’s curtains. The regular morning sounds made in the mansion has been reduced to a hush so the sleeping couple upstairs would be able to have a peaceful sleep…They both deserve it after so many sleepless nights and worry filled days.Arthur stirs first, then slowly opening his eyes to his surroundings. His gaze naturally falls on Bethany, lying peacefully beside him, her face turned to face his. She is sound asleep, her breathing pretty steady and calm. Arthur watches her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips as her full lips are curved up slightly at the edges.She must be having a pretty good dream.Gently, he reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He takes a moment to admire her, the woman he’s come to love so deeply, the woman who stands by his side no matter what storms rage around them
Bethany pulls back from his protective and quite reassuring hug, crosses her arms, and bites her lip. “And now the media is going to come after us. They’ll tie this to Campbell Conglomerate… to me.” Her voice wavers, but she takes a deep breath, trying to maintain composure, to show them all that she can still be rational.Her life is the perfect example of no rest and the idiom ‘from frying pan, to fire’. She only just got out of the frying pan the day before only to end up with a good night’s sleep, the unknowing short trip into the fire.Arthur pulls her close once again, his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll deal with whatever comes. We have nothing to hide. They will not be able to pin anything except trashy circumstantial sayings and whatever trashy media they try to come up with, we’ll control it. Unlike with Millicent because she was an actress, this is pretty controllable. No one wants to be sued.”Martha, who has been sitting in her armchair, watching the scene unfold, finally
Bethany steps into the house, her thoughts still tangled in the events of the day.The police station they are just returning from, Kevin’s death, the ongoing investigation, it all feels heavy on her shoulders. Arthur walks beside her, his presence steady and grounding. They haven’t said much to each other since they left the station, but his hand has been holding hers the entire time, providing silent comfort. One that oddly enough, she finds herself needing.As they close the door behind them, Martha appears at the end of the hallway, her expression gentle but concerned. “Bethany,” she says softly, “can I have a moment with you?”Bethany looks at Arthur with a curious eyes, but he only gives her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead,” he says. “I’ll be upstairs, getting some things ready.”With that, Bethany follows Martha down the hallway.They pass the living room, where the sound of the television playing softly echoes in the background. Martha leads her to her room on the ground floor,
Bethany and Arthur lay side by side on the soft grass, the warmth of the sun sinking into their skin as a gentle breeze rustled the faraway trees around them.For a while, they simply enjoy the silence, the serenity of being away from all the noise and complications of the world. The tennis court they had just left was a distant memory, and the day felt lighter, easier, as they basked in the quiet moments between them.Arthur and Bethany lay side by side on the bench, basking in the cool breeze that brushes over them.The lighthearted laughter from their tennis match fades into a comfortable silence. The peace of the moment feels like a small escape from everything, but the silence, however comfortable, only makes their minds wander back to the places they did not want to go.After a short, silent while, Bethany breaks the silence, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Arthur,” she begins, her eyes fixed on the sky, “are you not worried about Daisy? With John in detention at the police stati
The invitation arrives in a black velvet envelope.No name. No logo. Just a gold wax seal marked with a wolf’s head.Bethany turns it over twice before she slits it open with a knife and slides the lacy edged card out.It reads,“The Campbell Conglomerate is cordially invited to the Sterling Foundation’s Annual Black-Tie Gala.Theme: Midnight Masquerade.Date: This Saturday, 8 PM.Location: The Glass House, Midtown.Dress Code: Formal. Masks mandatory.Life’s a game, play it.”Bethany does not react for a second, and then reads it again… “This is either someone’s idea of a costume party or a shoddy job at making an actual party.”Arthur reads it as well, over her shoulder and frowns, not even the flicker of a smile either. “That’s not real.”“Oh, it is real,” Bethany murmurs. “And it’s bait. It is so obviously so… Sterling Foundation.”Arthur’s jaw tightens. “So we’re not going, it’s that simple.”Bethany turns slowly to face him, eyes clear and determination firm. “I do not run from
The Campbell Conglomerate headquarters is as full as it always is during the days of the week, and the staff are pretty loyal even when their boss has not been in to work for quite some time. The rumor has start to spread that she died or something most especially due to the fact that they had seen as she had been flung into the air two weeks before, had watched as her husband, with bruises of his own, had lifted her off the ground into the ambulance by himself and still making sure that everything, about her, was all in control…For the time she had been at the hospital, Arthur had made sure that Jade was always within reach and every of their works in progress, not out of reach, it had all been in control even when he had been devastated at the foot of her bed.And for it being so early in the morning, it is not silent, it is quite the opposite actually.There’s movement everywhere, in the halls and corners. Phones ringing and staff picking up. Meetings booked not minding that the b
He steps out of the car and closes the door behind him, Bethany is at home now and he just needs to stop by somewhere to make his point known, now that he knows who it is and his wife now does too, there is nothing to hide but to tell her to own up to her crimes and mistakes and just leave them be.Arthur Worth steps out of the sleek black elevator on the top floor and into hell, the dim lighting down the hall, the glass doors that do not reflect anything, looks like a child’s imagination of the opposite of heaven.The top floor of the glass building is colder than a morgue, the air conditioning in strategic positions not exactly helping either. Polished concrete floors. Steel framed windows. Air that smells faintly metallic, Ew.The place seems a little bit deserted and a little bit too silent for this mid afternoon period where staffs are supposed to be wandering around, talking and gossiping over cups of coffee and snacks, waiting for the time they can head for home.Ahead, the gla
It takes about an hour.One long, slow, silent hour between the couple.Bethany stubbornly keeps her back turned toward Arthur, stewing in her own complicated swirl of already fake anger and her pride not wanting to speak first.Bethany tries.God, she tries to stay mad at him but...For a full hour, she gives Arthur the full on, patented silent treatment, staring stubbornly at the wall on the other side of thr bed, answering in one word grunts if he so much as breathes too loudly so he’ll catch himself from disturbing her ‘sleep’.But she’s very terrible at it.She’s always been terrible at it when it came to people she loved.She cracks before the sixty minute mark, because when she finally turns her head, awkwardly and carefully because of the neck brace, she sees him sitting at the very edge of her hospital bed.Not looking at her.Not doing anything visible to her.Just… sitting there by the bedside.Palms flat on the mattress. Head bowed.Like he’s waiting to be sentenced. He do
The hallway is dim and seemingly never ending. Just like is her job to do this once in a while, she is going to do it once again before clocking out of work for the day.Ana Yang walks briskly down the sterile, silver lit corridor of Unique Auditing’s private floor. Her heels click sharply against the marble tile, echoing between the glass walls and chrome doors, ignoring everyone she meets on her way since she has one single focus in mind, do this and get the hell out of here.She clutches a thick folder to her chest, filled with updates, invoices, coded communications. The usual weapons of their currently losing war, she’ll be dropping off the file with the ceo before leaving.Ahead of her, the double doors to the CEO's office loom like the gates of some modern day hell.She swipes her keycard.The lock clicks and the doors swing open.Inside, the room is dim, only thin shafts of light cutting across the floor from narrow windows.And, as always, the swivel chair behind the vast mah
The fourth day in the hospital after the blast seemed just as bleak as the first three days that had come and gone, waiting for Bethany to wake up and open her eyes to absolutely no avail.Arthur hasn’t left her side. Not once, making sure to make sure that she is attended to every single time and cleaning her unconscious body every morning and night.The nurses have stopped trying to convince him to take a break and go home or something. At this point, he’s more permanent than the IV drip standing by her bedside. Martha comes and goes, bringing fresh clothes, home cooked meals that Arthur barely touches, whispered encouragements he barely hears but nods smilingly at anyway, the old woman already has too much on her neck so Arthur always manages to persuade her to go back home as well each time.He sits beside her now, as he has for four days, one hand curled over Bethany’s motionless fingers, holding them as though he is using his body’s warmth to remind her of the way back to him, b
Time slows.Bethany’s fingers brush the handle of the driver’s side door just as the second beep-beep fades into the air. A bird chirps from the lamp post above the lot. The wheels of a nearby shopping cart squeal as someone exits the pharmacy across the road. Arthur opens his mouth to say something…And the world erupts.BOOM.It’s not just a noise., it’s a force. A living, monstrous thing that tears through air, glass, and metal like paper. The car explodes in a big explosion of fire and shrapnel, its roof splitting, hurling into the sky. The windshield vaporizes in a white hot flash and for the person standing right next to the explosion...Bethany is thrown violently backward. Not a stumble. Not a fall. She is launched into the air like a ragdoll and what goes up, always comes down.Her body hits the ground very hard. The sound is sickening, skin on pavement, ribs crunching, skull cracking and the audible sound of all of it.Then stillness.Alarms scream in every direction. The
The man walks in front of the station like he’s trying not to walk into a landmine, slow, tentative steps. He stops at the top of the stairs, takes one deep sigh, rubs his weak looking eyes and takes the few more steps into the building.He does not take big strides and no waving hands. Just quiet, precise steps through the front doors of the Precinct, wearing a weather beaten hoodie and jeans that have seen better years. His eyes are the kind that don’t blink enough, too haunted to remember how.Or at least that is what it looks like to whoever cares to give him a glance.At the front desk, Officer Laney gives him the once over. She’s halfway through sipping her third iced latte when she asks, “Can I help you sir?”The man doesn’t answer at first, first choosing to check if she is a police officer since she is in civilian clothes, then seeing her badge in her hands, he sighs audibly before responding, saying…“I need to talk to someone. Someone in charge of a particular case here.”L
Rumors begin less than three days later.Apparently, grabbing a cup of coffee with a beautiful female Major is grounds for rumors, and even people whom you don’t know who begin to study your every move. The rumors, with truths in them however, rage on the barracks.They spread like heat on dry bush. Fast, wild and pretty much unstoppable. A Major seen sneaking smiles at a Lieutenant during drills, the same Lieutenant caught slipping out of the officer's quarters too early in the morning.Chara doesn’t as much as flinch when she hears then, she’s pretty much used to the weight of judgment.Chara doesn’t pretend to care, not at all.She keeps her chin high, her stride sharp like the boss lady that she is, like no one dares say it to her face, because they really do not dare say it to her face.But Mason hears it.He hears them and unlike Chara with her own steely indifference, he is not indifferent to it.And it gets harder to ignore, mostly because it is not all about him but her.Mason