Chapter 3

The interrogation room's lights were harsh and glaring, stretching my shadow long, like a silent criminal.

The detective sat across from me. He didn't pound the table or shout. He just looked at me calmly with those sharp eyes.

But every question he asked was like a precise scalpel, peeling away my disguise layer by layer, reaching my deepest secrets.

"Miss Bailey, you used to enjoy climbing too, didn't you?"

He asked casually, as if making conversation.

But alarm bells rang in my head.

I'd never mentioned this to anyone, especially after marrying Ethan.

How did he know?

I steadied myself and admitted it:

"Yes, I did it for a while in college. Later... after marriage, I never touched it again."

I tried to present the image of an ordinary woman bound by domestic life, who'd given up her hobbies.

The detective nodded, seemingly accepting my explanation.

"So you should be quite familiar with GPS and other outdoor equipment, correct?"

Here it comes.

His real purpose.

My defense sounded weak:

"Just superficial knowledge. I haven't touched it in years. Equipment updates so fast now, I don't understand it anymore."

I knew my background knowledge had already made me a prime suspect.

No matter how much I denied it, in the police's eyes, I had the expertise to commit a crime using specialized knowledge.

The detective didn't continue pressing on this point. He changed tactics, dropping a second bombshell.

"We discovered that last month, you added a five-million-dollar accidental death policy for Mr. Cross. The beneficiary is you."

My heart sank to rock bottom.

This insurance policy was the most important part of my plan.

It was both my backup and the capital for my new life.

But now it had become a blade pointed at my throat.

"Yes... it was Ethan's own request."

I forced myself to stay calm, searching for the most reasonable explanation.

"He loved these extreme sports. He said it was for our family's security."

I pushed the responsibility onto a dead man.

Dead men can't contradict.

The detective smiled, that smile meaningful, seeing through everything.

"Is that so? But we contacted the insurance company's agent. He said you were the one who initiated contact, and you handled the entire process. He also mentioned that Mr. Cross himself seemed unaware of the policy's specific terms."

My whole body went cold, as if all my blood had been drained.

I hadn't expected that bastard Ethan to discuss the insurance with outsiders.

Or perhaps this was just the detective's interrogation tactic, testing me.

But I didn't dare gamble.

My silence, in the detective's eyes, was admission.

The worst was yet to come.

A young officer walked in and handed a document to the detective.

The detective glanced at it, then slammed the document heavily on the table in front of me.

"Miss Bailey, our tech department recovered your home computer's browsing history from the past three months."

My eyes fell on the document, which had printed out keywords I knew all too well and feared most.

"Remote mountain climbing routes"

"How long does hypothermia take to kill"

"GPS signal blocking methods"

"How climbing accidents are determined"

Each word was like a red-hot chain, binding me tightly to the suspect's chair.

My supposed thoroughness, those traces I'd carefully erased during countless late nights, were nothing but a joke before professional forensic technology.

They had become the rope to hang me, tightening ever more.

The detective leaned forward, hands folded on the table, eyes sharp as blades.

"Massive insurance payout, professional knowledge, motive for murder, and now two unexplainable GPS models. Miss Bailey, is there anything else you'd like to say?"

My brain went blank. All my defenses and pretenses seemed so laughable and futile before this ironclad evidence.

I was finished.

My plan, my freedom, the new life I'd dreamed of—all would turn to nothing in this moment.

Despair engulfed me like a tide. I could even feel the icy seawater rising over my head, depriving me of my last breath.

0