Romans & histoires What Happened To Emily Prentiss

With no evidence that she didn't murder her aunty, no eyewitness, no one to clear her name, Emily end up in prison. ****End of flashback****

Their expressions shifted from apprehensive to alarmed, and I could see the flicker of desperation in their eyes. “Don’t think I’m joking,” I warned them and finally walked out through the door, but I only walk down the corridor and wait for a few seconds before quietly walking back to the room. Instantly, Mr. And Mrs. Wilson’s face turned ashen on seeing me return suddenly as Emily was being wheeled out from the inner room. My heart sank at the sight of Emily being wheeled out of a room by two men in black suits. She lay still, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling around me. My blood ran cold, and all thoughts of decorum evaporated in an instant.

"Roman, I can't shake off the feeling of sorrow since Emily's mother's death. It's truly shaken me. Who could do something so terrible?" Roman's gaze shifted to Elliot, understanding and empathy etched into his expression. "I know, Elliot. Emily has been tirelessly searching for answers. She's determined to find the truth." Elliot's eyes met mine, a flicker of concern passing between us. As Roman spoke, I could see the weight of Emily's mother's tragedy in his eyes. We were all connected in this quest, united by a shared purpose – to uncover the darkness that had stolen a life and to bring justice to those who had caused such pain.

"Good morning, my darling. Are you all ready for your departure?" My throat tightens with emotion as I go to embrace her. "I think so," I say, breathing in her comforting, familiar scent. "Alpha Roman's car will be here soon to collect my belongings." Mother squeezes me tightly, stroking my hair. "I can't believe my little girl is all grown up and leaving home. I'm going to miss you so much, Emily." Guilt twists inside me, knowing the sorrow I'll cause her today is false. In truth, the daughter she's bidding farewell is already gone, murdered by the wolves I called friend and lover.

I ask at this moment, wiping my face with my fingers and clearing my throat. “At the internet café, Ma,” Emily answers immediately. Then I say, “Good, go back there, do more research about the last events that happened, and why Tyler was thrown into prison. I mean the truth of this and not what the media says.” “I’ve already done that since he was sent to prison, Ma,” Emily says, and I realize she is even more prepared for this revenge even before the murder happened. With this, I say, “I see. You already had revenge at heart even before this murder took place.”

The sky darkened, and it began to rain. Emily was about to drive back to the hotel when she realized that she had a flat tire. She waited for a long time and still couldn't get a taxi and she was drenched in the rain. She kicked the tire angrily. Emily thought about Bennett's death, the night five years ago, and her dead babies. She broke down. She crouched in the rain and pressed her head against her arms. Her tears mingled with the rain and ran down her face.

All fading in an instant. No one told me about Emily's abduction until they finally killed her. Oswealth thought that our clients were more important than Emily, so he didn't tell me and only sent a rescue team for her. He thought they wouldn't let anything happen to her, but they were wrong. And now, I don't want to experience that loss again. I shook my head to push away the memory and opened my desk drawer. I remembered putting my spare shoes here. But as I looked inside, something caught me off guard. A handmade-looking brown envelope lay on top of the messy papers.

I kept playing the message in my head, those last words, like she was whispering straight through time, through death, into my ear. “Don’t trust either of them.” How did she know? And why did it feel like I was already too late? By 8 a.m., I was parked outside a library. Not mine. Not local. A town over. Somewhere neutral. I signed onto a public computer with trembling fingers and searched for anything. Old records. Articles. Social media scraps. There was almost nothing about Emily after her death. Just sanitized obituaries and half-hearted blog posts about water safety. But I wasn’t looking for her anymore.

I introduced myself and explained that I was trying to gather more information about Mel. Emily sighed. “What do you want to know?” “Is there anything unusual in her behavior before her death?” Emily took a deep breath. “She was paranoid and kept saying that she felt like she was being followed. She also mentioned receiving strange phone calls from unknown numbers, but she never told me what they were about.” Silence filled the room, and I lost all hope of finding a clear answer. “I’m sorry I can't provide any useful information,” Emily whispered as she got up from her chair.

He stepped forward and looked at me with utter contempt. "She texted me before she died and said you were the reason. The fact that you always bullied her was bad enough, but then you married me and still refused to stop tormenting her." My chest tightened with rage. The accusation was utterly absurd. Emily and I had grown up in the same rundown orphanage. Since she was older and bigger than me, she spent every day tormenting me with a group of followers. How could I possibly be the one bullying her? In my past life, I only learned the truth about Emily's death from the Quirrel family housekeepers who handled her body. The cause of her death was a drug overdose at an underground party.