Chapter 3

I was taken back to the station.

But this time was different. This time, I wasn't sitting on the couch in Ethan's office. I was in an interrogation room, on a cold metal chair.

The light overhead was harsh and bright. It made my head swim.

In the span of just a few hours, my status had shifted — from hero and victim's family member to suspect.

Ethan was sitting across from me.

His expression was complicated — confused, uncertain — but underneath all of that was the detached, professional look of someone doing his job.

"Stella, Vince named you as the one behind all of this. What's going on?"

"I don't know." My voice was unsteady. "He's lying."

"Why would he lie about you specifically? Why would he try to set you up?" Ethan pressed.

"How should I know!" I was on the verge of breaking. "He's the kidnapper. He's the criminal. Why would anyone believe a word he says?"

"But we need a reasonable explanation." Ethan looked me in the eye. "Your reaction at the dock — after he said and how you reacted — it wasn't normal."

I can't explain that.

I could only keep repeating the same words: "It wasn't me. I don't know anything."

The interrogation went on for a long time.

I don't know how I got through it.

When they finally let me leave the interrogation room, I felt like I'd died and come back.

Ethan didn't take me home. He led me to an empty office instead.

"You may need to stay here temporarily until the investigation is complete."

That meant I was being held. Just not officially.

I looked at Ethan — the detective I had once trusted more than anyone.

"You think I did it?"

Ethan looked away.

"I only believe in evidence," he said.

Whatever trust had existed between us shattered in that moment.

I spent a full day and night in that tiny office.

No one spoke to me. An officer stood guard outside the door.

I felt like an animal locked in a cage.

The following afternoon, Ethan came back.

He looked worse than before.

He didn't say a word. He just set a clear evidence bag on the table in front of me.

Inside the bag was a pen.

A pen I recognized immediately — engraved with my initials.

It was a gift from my father when I graduated from college.

"This was found at Vince's place." Ethan's voice was heavy. "Inside a locked drawer."

My mind went completely blank.

"Why would my things be there?" I murmured.

"That's exactly what we'd like to know," Ethan said. "Along with the pen, we also found some of your sketches. And… a photo. Of you and Vince together at a café."

He slid the photo across the table toward me.

In it, I was sitting by the window. Vince was sitting across from me.

I couldn't make out my own expression, but the atmosphere between us didn't look like two strangers meeting for the first time.

"I don't know him." My voice started to shake. "I have never met him."

"The photo was taken three days before Aurora went missing." Every word out of Ethan's mouth landed like a hammer blow to my chest.

"Physical evidence. A witness statement — Vince's identification. And now a photograph."

"Stella, are you still going to deny it?"

I had no answer.

I stared at that photo and felt the room spin.

I genuinely couldn't remember.

I had absolutely no memory of ever meeting Vince.

It was as if someone had reached into my mind and carved out a piece of it.

"It wasn't me…" I could only repeat it, helplessly.

Ethan gave me one deep look. Whatever warmth had remained in his eyes was gone.

"We'll be filing for a formal investigation."

He stood up and walked out of the office.

The moment that door clicked shut, I knew with absolute certainty — my life had completely fallen apart.

I was no longer the brave sister searching desperately for Aurora.

I was a liar. A suspect. The prime suspect in my own sister's kidnapping.