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My best childhood friend, the man who stood by me through the death of my parents, who betrayed me one too many a time, who cared more about me than anyone else did. He's gone, without a chance to make things right, to bury the hatchet. It's over.
The squad car pulls up in front of the police station. There are reporters swarming outside the precinct and I groan inwardly.
"Is there any way we can enter unnoticed?" I mutter as one of the cops opens the back door.
He doesn't even bother with an answer. Instead, he roughly hauls me out of the car and marches me up the stairs into the precinct. I don't bother covering my face as the cameras flash and journalists begin shouting my name. This will all be over soon. It's a nightmare, but I've handled worse.
They put me in a room with one of those one-sided windows. I stare at my own reflection, fully aware there's someone behind the glass I can't see, staring right back at me. I don't allow myself to get emotional. Instead, I sit there for the full forty-five minutes they make me wait to see a detective assigned to the case.
Finally, what feels like hours later, the door opens and a short, stocky man enters. He's dressed in a suit, and flashes me his badge before collapsing on the seat opposite of me, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief.
"So, you're the killer." His opening statement makes me feel sick.
"I didn't kill Lai."
"I heard you already confessed at the scene of the crime." His bushy brows shoot up and he examines me critically. "Are we going to have a problem here?"
"I didn't know what happened," I mutter. "But you have the wrong guy. The person you need to be searching for is-"
"Everything in due time," he interrupts, holding up a hand. He doesn't give a shit about what I have to say. In his mind, I'm the culprit, the murderer. He won't change his opinion of me. He just wants me behind bars. "First, let's talk about your relationship with the victim."
I walk him through my history with Lai. I don't skip on anything. I talk about Pandora, about the other guys, the sick, twisted games we play. The detective watches me with an impassive expression, every so often noting something down in his notepad. There's a camera pointed at me. I know this is being filmed. Once I finish talking, the detective heaves a sigh.
"So, are you ready to confess?"
"No," I growl. "I'm ready to tell you about... Lily Anna Oakes."
He furrows his brows. "Lily Anna Oakes died."
"No, she didn't," I shake my head vehemently. "She... We... staged her death. She's been living with me, for years. In secret."
He laughs out loud, staring me down. "Then where is she?"
I shrug. "That's for you to find out, Detective. All I know, she'll be eager to track down Pandora Oakes."
He notes something down before returning his attention to me. "Pandora Oakes. Where is she?"
"Missing," I hiss. "She... we got into a fight. I believe she left to see her biological mother."
"We'll research this," he mutters. "I'll make some calls. Now, about that confession?"
"I'm not fucking guilty." I glare at the man. "And I'd like to speak to a lawyer now, please."
The man sighs, crossing his hands. "And how, pray tell, are you going to afford one?"
His words make the reality of what's happening dawn on me. I have nothing. Since I bought Pandora's hand in marriage, I've been left penniless. I’ll have to sell the Estate, too.
"I believe I have the right to a call," I manage.
"You do. Would you like to make it now?"
I nod, and am led to a phone in the detective's office. I don't know who to call. Who would even help me. Finally, I dial Pandora's number, the cell I gave her. But the line just rings and rings. Nobody picks up.
The detective ends my call with a self-satisfied expression. "We'll appoint you a lawyer."
"But I..."
"You're being officially held for the murder," he goes on. "We'll bring you to your cell now."
