001

Blue’s POV

“Blood.” I gasped, my eyes growing wide with fright as I tried to comprehend what was going on.

The moment it ticked, I parted my lips only to let out an ear-splitting scream the next second as my heart rammed against my chest in quick successions.

“No, how come? This can't be from me…” I panicked, trying to locate a bleeding spot on my body, but there was none. Neither was I feeling pain.

“What’s all this about?” I muttered, turning around slowly, only to halt midway as cold chills ran down my spine.

This time, I couldn't make a sound.

Numbed to my brain, I fell on the floor with a thud, staring at the corpse of Archer, my husband's best friend, on the bed.

His eyes, once full of life, were now wide open, staring into nothingness. A deep wound marred his chest and the sheets beneath him soaked in his blood.

Still trying to comprehend what was happening, a low knock resounded in the room, and at once, my heartbeat skyrocketed.

Unsure of what to do, I grabbed the duvet in an attempt to toss it over him until I figured out the next step to take, but I was too slow.

The chef pushed the door in, and almost immediately, the tray he was holding made contact with the wooden floor.

His gasp echoed in the room as his face went pale that instant.

At this point, I couldn't think of anything else apart from the fact that I was doomed.

How was I going to explain this?

First, this was not my room.

And second, I was covered in blood, which, without a doubt, belonged to Archer.

Confused, I took a step forward, and at once, the chef banged the door shut, his yells and departing footsteps breaking through the quietness of the hotel.

“What is all this about?” I whispered my breath shaky as hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I stared at my hands, which were crimson red, my heart constricting against my chest.

“Last night…” I tried to recall what had happened the previous night, but it was as if my memory had been wiped clean.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped me back to reality, and at once, I pulled myself up, hoping that whoever the chef went to fetch would believe me.

A few moments later, the door creaked open, revealing the face of Caruso Milton, my husband.

Terrified, I stumbled backward until my back was against the cold wall, which I grasped with all my might.

All thanks to my father-in-law, my three years of marriage to Caruso was at the edge of a cliff.

He had detested me from the moment he set eyes on me, and since then, he hadn't failed to make my life a living hell.

But Caruso was different.

While his father did all sorts of inhumane things to me, he always stood by my side, defending me.

But even with his protection, things never got better.

And now, with this, the moment father-in-law hears what had happened, he wouldn’t think twice before handing me over to the police.

Taking quick strides to my side, Caruso grabbed my face with both hands, staring right into my eyes.

“Are you alright?" He asked.

My legs gave way and the next moment, I found myself sliding through the wall to the floor.

Still wearing a worried look, Caruso crouched next to me and grabbed my trembling hands. His eyes darkened as he examined the blood stains on my fingers.

Sobbing, I tried to speak, but the words refused to form.

I was too terrified.

Without a word, he proceeded to rub the blood off my hands onto his own clothes, his breath shaky as beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead.

“W-what are you doing?" I gasped.

"I was here the whole time. We did it together.” He spat out, increasing his vigor despite my resistance.

Mustering my last ounce of strength, I pulled away from him.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” His voice came out in a whisper.

“I…” My words hung in my throat when he suddenly turned his back on me.

He allowed his eyes to linger on the corpse for a while, his jaw tightening, before he locked eyes with me again.

“I didn’t kill him,” I blurted out.

“I know you didn’t.” He rose to his feet, but before I could react, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me behind.

My thoughts raced, the question ringing in my head over and over again. What am I going to do now?

It was then that my eyes fell on the murder weapon, a knife which was lying just a few feet from me.

My hands shook as I reached for the knife.

I was about to send it right into my stomach when the door flung open, lights flashing in my eyes, and cameras clicking rapidly.

Reporters.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach with a thud.

How did they find out within a short time? — I pondered, the shutters clicking ever loudly.

“Why are you here? Leave!” Caruso yelled, shielding me from the reporters who kept surging into the room.

“We got a report! Ms. Blue, you killed him, right?” A reporter shot at me.

“I didn’t kill him!” I yelled back, pulling myself to my feet as tears streamed down my face.

My hands clenched by my side, I darted my eyes around, taking slow steps toward the reporters but with each step I took, they took a step back.

“I was set up! I wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a human!” I cried in desperation, my eyes burning with tears and from the flashing lights that weren't going to go off any time soon.

“Stay back,” Caruso snapped, shoving me behind him so the reporters wouldn’t catch a clear glimpse of my face.

“Admit to your crimes already,” Another reporter yelled.

“You think you’re dealing with fools here?” Someone else snarled.

“If you didn’t kill him, then why are you soaked in his blood?”

The familiar voice made me snap my head up.

Standing in front of me and dressed in an immaculate uniform, was Becca Warren, my best friend.

“Becca…”

She took a step forward, her expression unreadable.

“You’re married to one of the richest men in the country. While he’s out there trying to sustain the economy, you’re here having an affair with his best friend in his hotel.”

My breath hitched against my throat.

What the hell is going on here?

What’s she talking about?

“Becca…” I managed to call as my heart shattered into a million pieces.

“To cover up your illicit affair, you decided to kill him.” She spoke even more firmly this time around.

I shook my head violently, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. “That’s not true! I didn’t kill him!”

Becca’s eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t place.

Not wanting to hear more, I grabbed her by the cuff of her shirt, “I didn’t do it,” I spat in her face.

“Of course you did, you murderer.” She shoved me off, her voice laced with venom.

“Becca, please…” I choked out, grabbing her wrist.

“Why are you doing this? You know your friend more than I do…” Caruso was still speaking when she cut in.

"People change.” She mouthed.

“I swear, I didn't kill him. I can’t even hurt a fly.” I said, ignoring her accusatory words.

“But you killed a human,” She sneered, yanking her arm free.

“No, I didn’t. Please, Becca, you know me.” I fell on my knees, holding her legs.

Behind me was Caruso trying to defend me but just like me, his words had no weight.

“Turn off the cameras.” She instructed her colleagues who immediately did as they were told.

Thinking she finally believed my tale, I kept my hopes up, my gaze fixated on her.

But instead of helping like I had thought, she grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my skin as she leaned in.

With a vicious smile, she whispered, “I told you, didn’t I?”

My lips quivered. “What are you talking about?”

“You killed him,” She said, her voice calm only for a low laugh to start rippling from her throat.