All Chapters of How To Love A Murderer.: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Chapter Fifty-Two: Family Ties The silence around the Vinter family dinner table was so thick you could choke on it. Ian, determined to shatter it, put on his brightest smile. "This is incredible," he said, his voice a little too loud. "Zhedya never told me what a fantastic cook you are! No wonder he's always so picky with restaurant food. Nothing compares to this.” “Nothing compares to a mother's cooking, right... Lukas?" He dropped the name like a bomb. Across the table, Zhedya’s fork froze mid-air for a single, telling second before he slowly placed it down, his eyes locked on his plate. Ian was a ball of sunshine in the gloomy room, passing dishes and making small talk, desperately trying to glue this broken family back together with sheer willpower. Under the table, he nudged Zhedya's leg hard. Zhedya just flashed a tight, strained smile that didn't reach his eyes. Ian turned to Zhedya's parents, his voice softening with fake sincerity. "You know, he talks about you

Chapter Fifty Four: Shattered Glass "Thank you for bringing our boy back to us, even for a little while," Mrs. Vinter whispered, her voice thick with tears as she hugged Ian like he was her only lifeline. Ian forced his face into a warm smile, patting her back. "We'll be back. I promise. Maybe in December? It'll be longer then." "Only you are allowed to come. We don't need you, Lukas," Linnea spat from the doorway, her arms crossed like a shield over her heart. Zhedya’s expression was a mask, impossible to read. "Linnea, I still wish to spend more time with you. To make up for every pain I've caused," he said, the words smooth and practiced. Linnea didn't even grace him with a reply. She just turned on her heel and disappeared back into the house, the slam of the door echoing in the quiet street. "She'll be fine," Mr. Vinter said swiftly, though his eyes said he didn't believe it. But Mrs. Vinter’s face lit up at Ian's words. "December! Oh, that's perfect! That was always our s

Chapter Fifty Six: Tug of War Knock! Knock! Ian practically tripped over his own feet rushing to the door, heart already pounding for no reason. He yanked it open and froze. "Callista?" She stood there like she owned the hallway…sharp blazer, folder tucked under one arm, that knowing smile that always made him feel seen and judged at the same time. "Ian. Mind if I come in?" He stepped aside, arms folding tight across his chest like armor. The room felt smaller with her in it, her eyes scanning the mess of takeout boxes and rumpled sheets. Not mean, just... assessing. "Been a while, Callista. You said you needed to see me. What's this about?" She didn't sit, just turned to face him straight on. "I got yanked out of BSI months ago. Someone pulled strings…big ones…to get me transferred." Her eyes flicked, like she was daring him to guess who. "Anyway. I'm here with a job offer. In-house journalist and consultant. For BSI." Ian barked a laugh, bitter and loud. "Yeah, rig

Chapter Fifty Eight: The New Piece Callista’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with another anonymous text. Her face turned to stone. Another Trunk Killer’s victim for your collection. Level B2. "Damn it," she hissed under her breath, her knuckles white as she clenched the phone. "He's playing with us." She stormed off, the weight of the unsolved cases heavy on her shoulders. Ian stood nearby, camera in hand, trying to steady his own nerves. Another crime scene in the span of a few weeks. This time, the grim discovery was in the cold, echoing concrete of a multi-story parking garage. Another victim, bound and left to suffocate in a car. Every flash of his camera felt like a punch to the gut, but he pushed through, determined to do his job. As he stepped back to get a wider shot, his heel caught on a loose cable. He stumbled, his balance gone. Out of nowhere, a strong, familiar arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him upright against a solid chest. "Careful, my lov

Chapter Sixty: Checkmate The steady, quiet beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room. It had become the soundtrack to Ian’s life for the past two weeks. He was slumped in the chair next to Zhedya’s bed, his head resting on his arms, fast asleep. His face was pale, shadows under his eyes telling the story of long, worried nights. One of his hands was stretched out, his fingers just barely brushing Zhedya’s still one, as if he could will some life back into him. A gentle tap on his shoulder made him jolt awake. "Mr. Parker? A word?" a doctor asked softly. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Ian nodded and followed him into the bright, sterile hallway. A man in a sharp suit was waiting for them…the investigator on Zhedya's case. "The investigation is conclusive, Mr. Parker," the man said, his voice grave. "Mr. Hunter's car was tampered with. The brake lines were deliberately cut. This wasn't an accident. It was an attempted murder." The world seem