Romans & histoires Under Suspicion Series

Aaron insisted, Almac could sense the distrust and uncertainty that Aaron felt towards the mixture. For Aaron, even Almac was a suspect in Mia's poisoning. He needed to know who it was that tried to kill her, especially in this crucial moment. Miram already told him that she had nothing to do with it, but Aaron was not dumb. He didn't believe a word that Miram said but then again, she still had influence through her father and her position within the council of Werewolves and so, he could not accuse her without evidence. And since he had no evidence, everyone was a suspect. But for now, his heart thumped with uncertainty that Mia might wake up and the fear of that reality and it's consequenc

"We're getting this sorted out NOW! What is your problem with me?" Then Juniper lost it, her frustration boiling out of proportion. "Do you want to know?!" she said in an outburst. "Do you want to know why I'm acting this way? Because I'm filled with suspicion towards you. I don't want to but I can't stop myself." Cedric hesitated, his eyes wavering with the evidence of pain. "Haven't I proven myself enough to you? What more do I have to do for you to trust me? Huh?"

Liam furrowed his brow slightly, confused, “Why suspect her?” Even Layson wasn’t entirely sure why. Although Marah had feelings for him, she had never done anything cruel or malicious before. Still, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. With a cold and distant tone, he replied simply, “Just investigate her.” As Layson returned to the group, Diana quietly approached him and whispered, “I also think Marah is suspicious.” Layson turned to look at her immediately. Hearing Diana share the same suspicion reassured him that his intuition might be correct. “Yeah, I agree.”

A slow jazz melody played in the background, adding to the carefully curated atmosphere. Sophie’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the stem of her wine glass as she sat waiting. Despite the warm candlelight, her hands were cold. She hated this feeling—the weight of scrutiny, the knowledge that every glance, every movement, and every flicker of emotion on her face could be captured, dissected, and turned into something unrecognizable by morning. She wasn’t new to this game. But Jake was. And that worried her. Then, a quiet murmur near the entrance caught her attention. She looked up just in time to see him walking in.

"We have reason to believe the anomaly was not natural." "What do you mean?" "We have reason to believe it was caused by someone." "Who?" "We do not know. But we have our suspicions." I kept my voice steady and my face neutral. "Who do you suspect?" Elder Marlow leaned back and her eyes were sharp. "The girl. Cressida Ashcroft." I stared at her and my hands were shaking and my voice was steady. "She is not responsible." "She is the only one who has been acting strangely."

I tried to decide how I felt about it. Comforted, perhaps. By the warmth, by the unexpectedness of the kindness, by the fact that Lucas had grabbed my hand with such complete confidence that being led somewhere by a stranger's child had felt entirely natural. Unsettled too. But not in the way I had been unsettled on the plane, or in the weeks before the plane, that familiar low vibration of something unresolved sitting at the base of everything. This was a different quality of unsettled. Lighter. More like standing at the edge of something than like being caught in the middle of it.

The detective closed the folder completely this time. “Right now we’re treating Mr. Morozov’s death as medically suspicious but unresolved.” Medically suspicious. The phrase made my stomach churn violently. Roman leaned back slowly, rubbing a hand once against his jaw. “What exactly are you implying?” “We’re not implying anything yet,” the detective answered calmly. “But excessive substance exposure before death raises questions.” Questions. Everything was questions now. No answers. Only fear. I suddenly became painfully aware of my own breathing. Too fast. Too uneven.

The full look, the close range of the car’s interior, no table between us, no fourteen feet of good wood, no architecture, just the morning light and his face and mine and three feet of air between us. “I don’t know for certain,” he said. “That’s the truth. I have a suspicion. I have had a suspicion for two years and I have been trying to get the evidence because a suspicion without evidence is—” He stopped. “It could destroy someone who might be innocent. It could destroy someone who isn’t and I could be wrong about which one it is.” I looked at him. “Who do you suspect?” I said. He looked at me. The morning light on his face. The honest face, the stripped face, the face without the managem

Drama. I sighed and I was about to leave when I heard a feminine voice that startled me. It was Maria..but what she was doing in some other room. I was standing at the door..in dilemma whether I should check or not. I turned the knob of the door but what I saw was enough to give me a heart attack. My wife.. Maria was in someone else's arm..someone else's bed...naked...screaming and moaning. My legs got weak... they saw me... Maria's face was pale... She got dressed herself and ran towards me. I was still standing in the same position. She had killed me...She had killed my trust... my love...She ruined everything.