All Chapters of CROWN OF SCARS : Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Desmond couldn't sleep.He tossed from one side of the bed to the other, staring at the ceiling. Something was coming. He could feel it. With a frustrated sigh, He pushed himself out of bed and walked into the sitting room. His steps were slow, his face expressionless, but the darkness beneath his eyes revealed how little sleep he had been getting. He stopped at the private bar in the corner. Without hesitation, he picked up a bottle of whiskey, poured some into a glass, and swallowed a large mouthful. The alcohol burned down his throat. He welcomed the pain. For years, alcohol and drugs had become his escape. Ever since he lost his mother, happiness had become a foreign word to him. But tonight, something about the past refused to stay buried. He closed his eyes. And suddenly, he was no longer a grown man sitting in his luxurious mansion. He was a frightened seventeen years old boy again. FLASHBACK Desmond had barely stepped through the front door after returning fr

The truth was beginning to surface. And Desmond was running out of places to hide it. The autopsy room was unusually quiet. The bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Clinton lay beneath white sheets while the medical examiner studied the final reports. The air smelled of disinfectant, and the silence was broken only by the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Outside the room, Officer Vincent sat at the center of a table with three other investigators. They had been waiting for almost twenty minutes. Finally, the door opened. The medical examiner walked in with a thick file in his hand. His expression was serious. He dropped the file onto the table. Everyone immediately looked up. “I found something,” he said. Vincent leaned forward. “What is it?” The doctor opened the file. “Mr. Clinton didn't simply die from the gunshot wound.” The room became still. “There were several bruises across his body,” the doctor continued. “He was beaten before he was shot. There are also signs

For two years, the world had mourned Rowan Kelvin as a dead man. Tonight, he returned not to reclaim his life, but for one person. Annabelle moved through the crowded room, barely paying attention to where she was going Then Crash! She collided with someone. The glass of wine in her hand tipped forward, spilling across the man's expensive shirt. “Oh my God!” Anna gasped. She immediately looked up. “I'm so sorry,” she said quickly. “I wasn't looking where I was going.” She reached for a napkin and began dabbing at his shirt. Michael looked down at her hand, then at her face. “It's fine,” he said calmly. Just then, his phone slipped from his hand and landed on the floor. Anna immediately bent down to pick it up. Michael did the same. Their hands touched, both froze. For several seconds, neither of them moved. He stared at her. There was something strangely familiar about her face. Something he couldn't explain. Anna felt it too. She slowly lifted her e

After two weeks of waiting, the truth was finally within reach. But what if the DNA results didn't prove Desmond's innocence or his guilt? Two weeks had passed since the police collected the DNA sample. For seven long days, Desmond had lived beneath the weight of uncertainty. Every phone call made his heart race. Every knock on the door made him wonder if the police had finally discovered something that could destroy him. That morning, however, the waiting ended. Desmond jerked awake when his phone vibrated beside him. Still half-asleep, he reached for it and squinted at the screen. A message from the police department. He opened it. The doctor has announced that the DNA results are ready. We need you to come to the station immediately. He stared at the message. For several seconds, he didn't move. His jaw tightened. The moment he had been waiting for had finally arrived. He dropped the phone onto the mattress and slowly climbed out of bed. After brushing his teeth,