Chapter 2
Rachel sat on the cold bench in the interrogation room, her hands cuffed tightly in front of her. The metal bit into her wrists, leaving red marks. Her clothes were still damp, and her hair clung to her face like lifeless strings.
A man in a suit walked in, holding a thick folder. He didn’t greet her. He just opened the file and read aloud in a flat tone.
“Rachel Morris. Twenty-two. Graduated from A University with honors. Suspected of bribing criminals to assault and rape Helen Evans, leading to her death. Motive: jealousy and romantic rivalry.”
She flinched at the words, her throat tightening. “That’s not true. I didn’t do it.”
The man didn’t even look up. “Then how do you explain the message Helen sent you before she died? ‘I’m at ONE Club. Where are you?’”
Rachel’s lips trembled. “She messaged me… but I didn’t reply. I was in the library that night. I have proof. I didn’t even see the message until it was too late.”
“Library?” The officer’s brows lifted slightly, but his eyes were cold. “No one remembers seeing you.”
“I didn’t talk to anyone,” she said weakly. “I was just reading.”
“No security footage to confirm your claim. No witness. No alibi. Just your word.” He paused, voice icy. “But we have testimony. The attackers say you paid them.”
Her eyes widened. “What?! That’s a lie! I never—”
The officer cut her off. “The man who took the money, Michael Fang, said you offered cash in exchange for humiliating Helen Evans.”
Rachel’s heart dropped. “I don’t even know that man…”
“They say you paid in cash. Left no paper trail.”
“I didn’t pay anyone!” she cried. “Someone’s framing me!”
The officer slammed the folder shut. “Tell it to the judge.”
Rachel’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her hands were shaking now. Everything was collapsing.
Later, in the dim prison cell, Rachel sat alone on a hard bunk. The walls were gray and cracked. The air smelled like rust and old sweat. Her orange jumpsuit hung awkwardly on her thin frame.
It didn’t feel real.
A week ago, she’d been a university graduate with a bright future.
Now she was an inmate.
Disowned.
Abandoned.
And still in love with the man who put her here.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top.
She didn’t cry. There were no tears left.
Days passed slowly. Each one dragged by, full of silence and stares. Some guards looked at her with disgust. Other inmates whispered behind her back.
“That’s her,” they’d say. “The one who had her best friend raped.”
They didn’t care if it was true or not. No one did.
One afternoon, months into her sentence, she was called into the visitor’s room.
She hadn’t had a single visitor since being locked up.
She walked in with heavy steps, her wrists chained.
On the other side of the glass wall sat a man in a sharp suit.
Eric.
Her breath caught.
Even now, seeing him made her heart twist. She sat down and picked up the phone, staring at his face through the glass.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t even look at her like she was a person.
“Why are you here?” she asked, voice low.
“To remind you of something,” he said coldly. “In three years, when you’re released… your life will still be over.”
She blinked, stunned.
“I’ve erased you from everything. No degree, no record of your achievements, no job will hire you. The Morris family won’t take you back. And your name will always be linked to Helen’s death.”
Her fingers gripped the phone tighter. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you disgust me,” he said simply. “You tried to take Helen from me. Now I’m taking everything from you.”
She shook her head slowly. “You never even gave me a chance to explain…”
Eric’s eyes narrowed. “I gave you ten minutes. You chose to kneel in the rain like a dog.”
Rachel’s lips parted, then closed. She had nothing to say. No words could break through his hatred.
“I came today,” he said as he stood up, “to make sure you know: I will never forgive you. And no one else will either.”
He walked away without looking back.
Rachel stared at the empty chair.
The glass between them still fogged from her breath.
She pressed her forehead against it, eyes closed.
“I didn’t kill her…” she whispered to no one. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Back in her cell, she scratched another mark onto the wall. One more day down.
Only 1,095 left.