Chapter 3

The interrogation room's fluorescent lights were blinding. The detective across from me flipped through his notes, brow furrowed.

"Evelyn Summers, honesty will work in your favor. Why did you cut the gas pipe?"

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. "I didn't cut any pipe. I went to the villa this morning to reinforce the safety valves and seal the connections."

I met the detective's eyes. "I have proof. Before I left, I recorded a full inspection video with timestamps. It's already uploaded to the cloud."

The detective stopped writing and looked up. "Where's the video?"

"On my phone."

He shook his head. "When you were brought in, you didn't have a phone on you."

My stomach dropped. It had been chaotic. I'd been shoved into the police car in the confusion. Gabriel, or someone working for him, must have taken my phone then.

"What about my briefcase? I had blueprints inside, and my tablet."

The detective pulled out a clear evidence bag containing my briefcase. "We have the bag, but there's no tablet inside."

He put on gloves and reached into a compartment, pulling out something heavy. It was a small electric pipe cutter. Rust-preventive paint residue from gas pipes covered the blade.

"We found this in your bag." His voice turned cold. "It has your fingerprints on it."

I stared at the cutter, the absurdity of it all washing over me. Gabriel really had spared no expense framing me.

"That's planted evidence," I said evenly. "The development has security cameras. Check them. I left the villa at 7:00 am. The explosion happened at 3:00 pm. Someone else must have gone in between those times."

The detective sighed and slid a file across the table. "We checked the footage. From the time you left this morning until the explosion, no one entered that villa through the main gate or underground garage. You were the only person who went inside."

I froze. How was that possible?

Unless Gabriel had another way in.

He had a spare access card I'd given him ages ago. And the development had a side entrance where the cameras had been broken for months. Someone familiar with the layout could easily avoid the main surveillance and climb over the wall through that entrance.

The situation was dire. My fingerprints on the weapon, gaps in the surveillance footage—everything pointed straight to me.

Just then, the interrogation room door opened, and an officer stepped inside. "The suspect's family has posted bail."

Half an hour later, I walked out of the interrogation room.

Gabriel stood in the lobby looking haggard. The moment he saw me, he rushed over and pulled me into his arms, tears flowing on cue.

"Evie, you've been through so much. I know you didn't do this. They must have it wrong."

He was sobbing, but then, his voice dropped to a whisper. "Hon, the neighbors are demanding 50 million in compensation. If we don't pay, they'll go to the media and make sure you rot in prison."

He pulled back and took a document from his jacket. "This is a property transfer agreement. Sign over your assets to me, and I'll sell everything I have to cover the rest of the debt. I'll shoulder this for you."

I looked at the document. His signature was already there. Only mine was missing.

In my past life, I'd signed right here, moved to tears by his so-called sacrifice. Then he'd kicked me straight into prison.

I raised my head and looked at Gabriel's face, so full of manufactured concern.

"Let's talk about this at home. I'm dizzy."

Wild joy flashed in Gabriel's eyes before he masked it. "Of course, of course. Let's go home. I'll make you some tea."

We returned to our temporary apartment. Gabriel bustled around, fetching my slippers and draping a blanket over my shoulders.

Patricia sat on the couch, her face dark and unreadable. But I could feel her eyes boring into me, cold and expectant, like she was just waiting for me to drop dead.