MasukThe storm that followed Alex’s release shook New York to its core.For three full days after Dennis discovered the evidence Alex gave him, the station became a war zone—meetings behind closed doors, state officials going in and out, lawyers hovering like bees, phones ringing non-stop. But the moment the police finally released Alex Spencer, the entire city erupted. Angry protests gathered outside the precinct, people demanding answers from the justice system they trusted. The media tore into the police with merciless headlines, questioning their competence and their integrity.“How can a murder suspect be released?”“What happened to justice for Martins Cooper?”“Is New York police now controlled by powerful elites?”The noise grew louder every hour.Amara watched everything on TV with a hand pressed against her mouth. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that perhaps Alex truly wasn’t the monster she thought or terrified that she might still be wr
The chair screeched lightly against the floor as Amara pulled it out. She didn’t sit gently, she dropped into it, her breath sharp, her eyes burning like she was forcing herself not to explode. The interrogation room felt smaller with her inside, as if her fury had filled every corner. Alex sat opposite her, his hands cuffed and fixed to the metal table. The chains made a soft rattling sound whenever he shifted, but he barely moved.She couldn’t even look at him at first. Her chest rose and fell in slow, angry waves, the weight of betrayal clinging to her skin like thick fog. Then finally, her eyes snapped to his.“Tell me the truth,” she said, her voice trembling, not with weakness but with a rage she had held back too long. “Why would you do this to me?”Alex swallowed. His voice came out quiet but steady.“I didn’t do anything to you, Amara.”She laughed—a painful, disbelieving sound.“Don’t insult my intelligence,” she snapped. “Roland and Eva confessed. They mentioned you. You
The tension inside Spencer Group's executive boardroom was the kind that made the air feel heavy and oppressive, as if every breath carried physical weight that pressed down on the lungs. The long mahogany table, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the harsh fluorescent light overhead, until James walked through the double doors and silence rippled across the room like a swift wind cutting through tall grass.He took the seat at the head of the table—Alex's seat. The chair reserved for the President. The symbolic throne of power in this corporate empire.A bold declaration on its own, spoken without words.His expression was stone cold, carved from granite, his posture sharp and rigid, his fingers clasped together in front of him on the polished wood like a general ready to announce war to his troops. The senior executives exchanged worried looks across the table, their eyes darting between James and each other, searching for answers no one had. Everyone had heard about Alex's su
The sky was still grey with early morning fog when the police hotline rang. The officer on duty answered, barely awake, expecting another false alarm or noise complaint. Instead, the caller spoke quickly, breathlessly.“Good morning, officer. I—I think I just dropped off the man you people are looking for. The CEO… the one on the news.”The officer sat upright.“You mean Alex Spencer?”“Yes! Yes, him!” the taxi driver said. “I swear it’s him. Same face, same height, same hair. He told me to drop him at the old Spencer Group plant on Riverside Industrial Lane. That place is empty now.”Within minutes, a full SWAT team was deployed.The convoy sped through the city, sirens slicing the morning air.As they approached the abandoned property—an old manufacturing plant Spencer Group shut down years ago, the scene was chilling. Weeds curled up the cracked walls. Windows were broken. Rusted machinery stood in the courtyard like metal skeletons.Dennis stepped forward, signaling silently to
Inspector Dennis stood in his office long after Roland and Eva’s confessions were typed, recorded, signed, and sealed. The cold weight of everything he had just uncovered pressed down on him until his breath turned shallow. Outside his door, officers buzzed with frantic disbelief, whispering Alex Spencer’s name in tones that carried shock, rage, and something close to betrayal.Dennis finally picked up his pen.His hand trembled but not from fear. From fury.From the deep, unsettling knowledge that the man the world had praised for years… the man powerfully rooted in New York’s corporate and political landscape… the man Amara once loved, and his city respected… had orchestrated murder.In clear, bold handwriting, Dennis signed his name beneath the arrest request.Then he stamped it.WARRANT FOR THE ARREST OF ALEX SPENCER.A chill swept through him. There was no going back.He walked straight to the operations floor, lifted the warrant for his entire team to see, and declared:“Full
Three days had crawled by since the Inspector General placed that impossible, dangerous command on Inspector Dennis— release Roland and Eva… or lose everything.Three days of a voice echoing in his head like poison.Three days of wrestling fear, law, duty, and conscience.Yet, the suspects remained exactly where they were.Not because Dennis forgot.Not because he hesitated.But because the moment the call ended that day, something in him rose, something too rooted in integrity to be pushed aside.After pacing his office like a man trapped inside two lives, Dennis had grabbed his keys and driven straight to the Attorney General’s office, cutting through traffic with a speed fueled by conflict.He didn’t wait to be announced. He walked in and faced the AG—the only man powerful enough, fearless enough, principled enough to challenge the kind of monster who stood behind the IGP’s strange order.For almost twenty minutes, Dennis spoke.Not as a junior officer bowing to authority.Not as a




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