Chapter 5

Someone leaked the details of Silas's death online, and all hell broke loose.

It didn't help that people dug up the news from a few months back, about how Silas had risked his life to save mine.

The internet split right down the middle. One side swore that if the husband's dead, the wife did it. The other side argued that Silas and I were deeply in love, and I could never hurt him.

To do damage control, the Commission made me hold a press conference.

It was my first time staring down a firing squad of cameras and microphones.

I was so on edge and out of my depth that when I sat down, my hand shook. I knocked over the glass of water in front of me, spilling it all over the table.

"Mrs. Vexille, there's no need to be nervous. We're just here on behalf of the public to clear up a few gray areas." A veteran reporter in the front row held up his recorder. His tone was meant to be soothing, but it carried a sharp, aggressive edge. "The police have already released your basic timeline for that day, but the public still has questions. We'd appreciate honest answers."

I gave a silent nod.

"First question. Who asked to turn on the hot spring valves early?"

"I did."

"Why?"

I paused for a second before answering slowly.

"It's been getting cold lately. April and I usually take a dip in the mornings. That tub fills up slow—takes over twenty minutes just to get it half full. I didn't want April catching a chill, so I asked Silas to run the water ahead of time. I figured we could get right in as soon as we got back to the house."

"Why not have the staff do it? Why would Silas handle something so trivial himself?"

My eyes welled up as the memories of our quiet moments together flashed through my mind. "Silas was a germaphobe. Unless it was for basic cleaning, he never let the staff near our private rooms."

"And when it came to me, he always did things himself. He'd never pass off even the smallest task to anyone else."

"Right. Second question. Why didn't you have your phone on you that day?"

I murmured, "I don't know what was wrong with me that day. I never leave my phone behind. But that day, I just... forgot. I left it right there on the console table by the door."

The reporters exchanged looks. Camera flashes went off in a blinding wave before the next question hit:

"On weekends, you take your child to the gardens around 10 AM, play on the lawn for an hour, and head back inside by 11. But that day, why did you go back twenty minutes late?"

Tears pricked my eyes again, and my throat tightened.

"I went over to Victoria's. I really didn't want to, but I'm bad at saying no. Victoria pushed a little, and I just felt too awkward to refuse..."

"Your husband died in the hot spring room of the main house. Why was Julian—a Capo—also at the crime scene?"

"Julian?"

I stared blankly, taking a moment to piece it together. "He had business to discuss with Silas, so he was waiting in the living room first thing in the morning. When I came inside, April was still in the hall talking to him. I called out for Silas, but he didn't answer, so I went to the hot spring room... The room faces the main doors. I collapsed in the doorway and screamed, and Julian came running in—"

The veteran reporter suddenly let out a cold scoff. He shoved his microphone forward, cutting me off sharply:

"Mrs. Leonora, from the last time Silas was seen alive to the moment his body was found, you have a rock-solid alibi for every single step. Don't you think that's a little too convenient? The public has every right to suspect this was a calculated, cold-blooded murder!"

I just stared at him, stunned.

Then I dropped my head, burying my face in my hands. Sobs began to slip through my fingers.

"You're right, it's all my fault! For those twenty minutes, my husband was dying, all alone and helpless. And what was I doing? Taking my time. Wasting time in the parlor, wasting time trying to get April back inside, wasting time chatting with Julian in the hall."

"It's my fault he's dead!"

"I'm the reason my husband is dead!"

I screamed, my voice shaking violently.

Grief, agony, terror, and guilt—every raw emotion hit me like a tidal wave, tearing through a body that was already running on empty.

Blinded by the frantic flashing of the cameras, my legs finally gave out, and everything went black.

When I came to, I was lying in my own bed.

I grabbed my phone. Just as I thought, the press conference had blown up online.

Aside from the usual true-crime theories, most of the comments were sympathetic. Only a handful of people were still pointing the finger at me.

"This is straight out of a movie. The more perfect the alibi, the guiltier they are! There's definitely something off about this woman!"

"Psych major here. Usually, when someone is accused, they fight tooth and nail to clear their name. But on that stage, she did the exact opposite. She took all the blame. She even gave vague answers to things she could have easily explained. Behavior like that means one of two things: either the trauma completely broke her, or she's a criminal mastermind playing a brilliant psychological game."

"She's a pampered art gallery owner who was shaking so hard she couldn't even hold a glass of water. One tough question and she completely broke down. You really think she has the guts—or the muscle—to take down a Mafia Don?"

"I believe Leonora. She's not God. How could she possibly guarantee Silas would slip? And even if he did, how could she guarantee he'd hit his head just right and pass out? It's ridiculous!"

"You guys have zero proof. Look at her—she's completely devastated and helpless. Why are you still trying to make her the killer?"

I thought for a moment, then slowly typed out a few lines on my phone:

"I'm sorry the press conference ended so abruptly today, but I believe I've made the necessary clarifications."

"Finally, for the sake of my child and our peace of mind, I just want to say this: I don't know anything about alibis or murder weapons. But I do know that people need a reason to do things. I had absolutely no reason to kill my husband. I loved him."

I hit post and let out a soft sigh.

I glanced over at the nightstand, where a framed photo of Silas and me sat.

We took it back when we first started dating. He was holding me from behind, his eyes closed as he kissed my ear. I was smiling right at the camera, my eyes practically overflowing with happiness.

I stared at it for a long time. Then, I laid the frame face-down on the wood.