Later that day, Kevin made his way toward Henry's office, his excitement palpable. Inside the elevator, he couldn't help but fidget, his anticipation growing with each passing floor. He had just received Lucille's background report and was eager to present it to Henry.
And why wouldn't he be? This was the first time in his career that his boss had shown an interest in a woman. As soon as Henry had given him the task, Kevin devoted himself to being the best wingman. He had delved into Lucille's background, tirelessly gathering every information he could find. He had compiled a comprehensive dossier on Lucille in hours, covering her life from childhood to adulthood.
However, as he read through the report, Kevin couldn't help but feel a tinge of dissatisfaction with what he had discovered. It turned out that Lucille had recently been involved in a murder case. Nevertheless, since she was the woman who had captured Henry's interest, he decided to keep his reservations to himself. As long as her presence could quash the rumors about Henry's involvement with other men, Kevin was willing to overlook any flaws she might have.
With a proud smile, Kevin held up the tablet, thrilled about his boss's blossoming romance, and stepped out of the elevator into Henry's office.
"President Moore, here's the information you requested," Kevin announced, presenting the iPad as a precious treasure. He looked at Henry expectantly, silently seeking approval. However, Henry simply accepted the device without saying a word.
As Henry scrolled through the information, his brows furrowed, and his expression quickly turned cold. In an instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and Kevin couldn't help but wonder if there had been a mistake in the report.
Henry's lips turned downward, and the icy look in his eyes sent a shiver down Kevin's spine. His natural coldness and aloofness amplified whenever he wore that expression. Kevin often felt like he was playing a game of charades, trying to decipher Henry's thoughts. He knew that when something upset the boss, it could have severe consequences—people fainting or even having heart attacks. Right now, Kevin feared he might pass out from the tension in the room.
Meanwhile, at the police station, Lucille remained silent, unresponsive to the officers' questions and statements. Her gaze was vacant as if their words couldn't penetrate her mind. After a considerable amount of time trying to extract information from her in vain, the police decided to lock her in a cell.
It was well past midnight when Lucille was confined in a dark and damp room, sending chills down her spine. Huddled in a corner, she held onto her knees, trembling from the cold. Until that moment, she had refused to accept what had transpired.
Just yesterday, she had been the respected young lady of the Reed family, attending her beloved Grandpa Ricky's funeral. But now, everything had crumbled, and she had been swiftly convicted of murder. How could she come to terms with such a life-altering turn of events?
Desperation and dread coursed through Lucille's veins, suffocating her. She covered her ears as Lucas' accusatory words echoed in her mind, repeating like a relentless curse.
"I didn't do it," she murmured, shivering in denial. Yet, no matter how desperately she tried to convince herself otherwise, the damning video evidence captured her committing the act. It was crystal clear that she had killed Richard.
Lucas' words acted as a haunting mantra, growing louder with each passing moment, gradually convincing her that she had taken the life of the man who had cared for her.
Outside, rain poured relentlessly, accompanied by the rumble of distant thunder in the dark gray sky. A lightning bolt struck the ground, illuminating the gloomy room. Lucille almost screamed as she saw Richard's anguished expression before her.
He stared at her, his presence eerie, and spoke with an ethereal voice, "You're so heartless, Lucy. Why did you kill me?"
Wide-eyed and filled with desperation, she shook her head vigorously, trembling. "Grandpa, please believe me! I didn't kill you..."
At that moment, a chilling pair of hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing life out of her. She struggled, unwilling to face the apparition, but was compelled to meet its eyes.
"You took my life, so now you shall pay with your own!" it bellowed in her face.
Lucille was paralyzed at her breaking point as tears streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall. She could no longer bear the psychological torment. With a resolve born out of desperation, she decided and offered a surrendering smile.
"Alright, Grandpa. If sacrificing my life is the only way for you to forgive me, then I'll do it..." Lucille declared resolutely. Rising to her feet, she bit her lip and forcefully smashed her head against the wall. A searing pain overwhelmed her senses, and she instantly lost consciousness, collapsing to the floor with blood trickling from her head.
As Lucille eventually regained consciousness, she was no longer in a prison cell but in a dimly lit room. Her mind was still fuzzy from her two concussions within twenty-four hours. She couldn't immediately comprehend her surroundings.
'Could this be hell?' she pondered, but something felt off compared to what she had seen depicted on television. She glanced around, noting the absence of fire and wandering ghosts that she had imagined hell to be filled with. "Are you awake?" a hair-raising voice suddenly pierced through the room, causing Lucille to freeze. A chilling sensation crept from the depths of her heart as she listened to the cold and piercing tone. She had never encountered such a voice except in her imagination of the lord of hell. Trying to maintain composure, she forced herself to speak. "Your grace, the lord of hell?" she greeted, bowing slightly, instinctively attempting to show respect to avoid potential torture.
'Lord of hell?' Henry repeated silently in his head. His lips twitched at the absurdity of Lucille's assumption. 'Does she think this well-air-conditioned room is hell? Is she truly that naive? When did hell become a place of comfort?'
"Why did you commit suicide?" He asked in a frigid tone, questioning Lucille's actions.
Her body stiffened, and memories of her untimely demise flooded her mind, eliciting a bitter smile at the corner of her lips. The pain she had endured resurfaced, creating a suffocating sensation in her chest. Letting out a mocking laugh, she replied, assuming that the lord of hell was merely going through the motions before condemning her to punishment. "The husband I loved and cherished for three years betrayed me by having an affair with my sister. Isn't it ironic? I placed my trust in them, and they shattered it. Well, I've grown accustomed to Rica taking everything from me, so I shouldn't be surprised that Lucas caught her eye as well," Lucille's voice trembled with a mix of anger, pain, and suffering. Tears streamed down her face as she continued, "But their betrayal pales in comparison to the crime I've committed. I, I killed the only person who cared about me..."
Overwhelmed by emotions, Lucille could no longer contain her tears as she broke down completely. "The only way I can seek redemption is by offering my life."
In her distressed state, a glimmer of sanity returned to her mind, prompting her to ask a crucial question. "Are you certain that I was the one who murdered him?" Henry pursed his lips, squinting his eyes as he contemplated her words.
"What do you mean?" Lucille asked, bewildered by his response.
"Your grace, do you know the truth? Do you know who killed him?" She pleaded desperately, searching the darkness for any sign of his presence.
Henry moved away, and a sudden searing pain shot through her thigh, causing her to hiss in agony. "Does it hurt?" he questioned, his tone cold and detached.
"It hurts!" Lucille instinctively responded, but then a realization struck her like lightning. Her eyes widened, confirming her suspicion. "I didn't die?"
"What do you think?" he retorted sarcastically, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Realizing she was alive and not in hell, Lucille's guard was up. She retreated until her back was pressed against the headboard. "Then who are you? Why did you pretend to be the devil?"
Henry couldn't help but laugh. "Did I ever claim to be the devil or the lord of hell?"
Lucille fell silent, feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration. 'You certainly made it seem that way!' she silently retorted.
Gradually, the gravity of her situation sank in. 'If I'm still alive and this isn't hell, then who is this stranger?'
Hugging her knees tightly, she mustered her courage and cautiously inquired, "If we're not in hell, then who are you? And what do you plan to do with me?"
"I'm the person who can help you get out of jail."
Something profound brooded in Henry's eyes as he flashed a smile, giving his typically expressionless face a devilishly charming vibe.
Lucille gasped, taken aback by his unexpected statement. At that moment, a glimmer of hope ignited within her. However, the weight of her guilt quickly pulled her back to reality. She shook her head. Her voice filled with remorse. "No. I don't deserve that. I killed Grandpa Ricky, and I'm willing to accept the punishment of the law."
Her guilt was overwhelming, and her conscience tormented her relentlessly. Despite not being blood-related, Richard had treated her as his own granddaughter, and yet she had taken his life. She couldn't forgive herself for such a heinous act, and she believed she could find any semblance of peace only by paying for her own life and seeking Richard's forgiveness.
Listening to her words, Henry scoffed, his tone laced with both disdain and frustration. "You're a fool and a coward. Why can't you be brave, just for once? Are you truly so blind as not to see that something is amiss in this case? If you really killed Mr. Reed, why wasn't it exposed before your divorce?"
Henry inched closer. His voice lowered to a whisper as silence enveloped them. "You dare commit suicide, but you don't dare to live. Someone is blatantly framing you, yet you do nothing. Tell me, don't you want to uncover the truth? Prove your innocence and bring justice to his death."
As his words sank into her mind, Lucille's heart trembled. She, too, had doubts about the video's authenticity, but the uncanny resemblance of the woman in the clip had shaken her to the core. Moreover, she had no recollection of committing such an act. Yet, she couldn't fathom that someone would be so cruel as to plot against her. Their plan seemed foolproof, and the evidence stacked against her was indisputable. She felt trapped, with no way to escape.
However, this enigmatic man before her appeared to possess a formidable background. A glimmer of hope sprouted within her heart.
Taking a deep breath, Lucille mustered her strength and grasped Henry's shirt, pulling him closer as she pleaded, desperation in her voice. "I want to live... but I don't know what to do. Can you help me? Please, save me."
'If someone was manipulating events behind the scenes, orchestrating Grandpa's death just to frame me, I won't forgive them. I will do whatever it takes to bring him the justice he deserves,' her determination hardened, her fist clenched.
"Save you? But they have conclusive evidence. I'm afraid it won't be easy to win this case," Henry stated matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of any false promises.
Fury erupted in Lucille's heart. She knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy, but he had ignited a glimmer of hope within her, and she refused to let this opportunity slip away.
"Listen. I don't know who you are, but I believe you can help me navigate this ordeal. I'm willing to do anything you ask except take another life."
"Don't worry. I'm a law-abiding citizen. I won't ask you to kill someone or commit arson," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. Lucille's body involuntarily shuddered as his lips brushed against her ear.
"I only want you..." he whispered seductively.
Heat flushed her cheeks as their bodies pressed together, and his distinct scent filled her nostrils.
She never expected him to make such a request. Judging by his voice, it was clear that he wasn't an older man. So why was he interested in her? Even as a divorced woman, she hadn't considered remarriage, especially now that she was imprisoned.
Lucille suppressed the disappointment welling up within her. She had hoped for safety, but she knew there was no such thing as a free ride in this world. She refused to stoop so low as to sell herself just to leave that wretched prison.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed him away and declined, "Thank you, but I'm not interested in your offer. I believe there is still justice in this world, and eventually, I will be proven innocent and set free."
Henry couldn't help but laugh at her naïve response. "I thought you said you'd do anything? I didn't expect you to be so innocent. Do you really think those who want you dead will let you walk away?"
She was left speechless. Her head dropped, and she nervously fiddled with her fingers. "I believe that good will always triumph over evil," Lucille meekly replied.
"Let's see if your naïve belief can save you," he snorted, turning on his heel and striding towards the door. "But mark my words. You'll eventually beg me."
Lucille bit her lip and swallowed the lump in her throat. She weakly collapsed onto the bed, listening to his footsteps fade away. Before long, exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted back to sleep.
The next day, Lucille groaned in pain as someone kicked her leg. A sharp voice jolted her awake.
"Get up!"
Her head throbbed with a sharp ache from the sudden movement. Rubbing her forehead, she looked at the person in front of her, and her pupils dilated upon seeing the face of a female correctional officer. She surveyed her surroundings and realized she was back in her cell.
Inhaling the musty scent, she suddenly wondered if everything had been a dream. Could the mysterious man she encountered last night have been a figment of her imagination?
With a furrowed brow, she checked her thigh and saw a purple bruise on her fair, smooth skin.
A cold chill ran down her spine as she realized the man had returned her to jail while unconscious.
'Who is he? What kind of background does he have to wield such power?' she wondered. He must be a prominent figure in the city if he could easily manipulate her freedom.
"Why are you still sitting there, lost in thought? Hurry up and prepare for your court trial!" The female correctional officer grew impatient, pulling Lucille to her feet and pushing her out of the cell.
Handcuffed by the police, Lucille was led to a police car. She was shoved inside, and soon they arrived at the courtroom.
Lucille stood before the court, her hands restrained and treated like a criminal. As she scanned the audience, she saw nothing but disdain on the faces of their acquaintances, except for Larica. She searched for her parents but felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. They were absent.
'I can understand the Reed family not wanting to see me, but even my parents didn't come.' A bitter smile slowly formed on her lips as she pondered the cruelty of her parents.
While the prosecution and defense lawyers argued, Lucille sat in her seat, lost in a daze. Though she heard their words, they didn't register in her mind, and it was only when the judge slammed the gavel that Lucille snapped back to reality.
The sound of the gavel reverberated through the hushed courtroom, causing Lucille's heart to nearly stop. Her mind spun with a whirlwind of thoughts, desperately hoping that the jury would deliver a verdict of not guilty. She dug her nails into her flesh, clenching her fist tightly as she awaited the outcome.
"On the sole charge of the indictment, first-degree murder, we find the defendant, Lucille Powell, guilty."
The weight of those words felt like a soul departing from her body. The judge's voice melded with the cacophony of noise erupting from the audience in the courtroom.
"Lucille Powell, you are hereby sentenced to death with a one-month reprieve on the charge of murdering Mr. Richard Reed. Bailiff, take the defendant into custody."
All color drained from Lucille's face. She had known deep down that it would unfold this way, as she had no evidence to prove her innocence. Yet, she refused to resign herself to this fate. She mustered the strength to stand, a flicker of hope urging her to run and plead with the judge for reconsideration. But her body felt as light as a feather, and she weakly collapsed back into her chair. Despair enveloped her entire being, leaving her eyes hollow and devoid of life.
Two police officers hoisted her up, their firm grips causing the iron chains on her hands and feet to rattle. The sound pierced her ears with each step she took. The weight of her impending death sentence turned her legs to jelly, threatening to send her sprawling forward, but the vigilant officers caught her just in time, preventing her from collapsing.
As they exited the courthouse, Larica appeared, blocking Lucille's path with a twisted smile of satisfaction, relishing in her sister's plight. She leaned in close, her voice dripping with smugness and disdain.
"I told you, Lucy. There would be nothing left for me to snatch," Larica whispered in her ear, taunting her.
Lucille's gaze burned with hatred as she stared at her sister's repugnant expression. The acidic surge of anger swelled in her stomach, threatening to consume her.
"Grandpa's death has to be connected to you!" Lucille burst out. Her eyes were bloodshot as she glared at Larica.
The desire to strike her sister with all her might surged within her, but the restraints on her hands prevented any physical retaliation. She attempted to lunge at Larica with her body, but her sister quickly evaded her, causing Lucille to crash to the ground, her face hitting the pavement.
A hiss of pain escaped Lucille's lips, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. Larica grinned, crouching down to her level.
"Just accept your fate. No matter what you say, it's already evident that you're seen as a criminal in everyone else's eyes," Larica jeered, her laughter echoing through the air. "They watched the video of you killing Grandpa Ricky. If we weren't sisters, I would press charges against you for physical assault, considering how you tried to harm me. But luckily for you, I'm merciful. Your death is already sealed."
"Sisters?" Lucille gnashed her teeth, her eyes burning with rage. She had treated Larica as her sister, but the same sentiment was clearly not reciprocated. What had she done to deserve this?
"A so-called sister who would eagerly tear apart her own sibling's throat," Lucille spat out, her words laced with spite. "You came here just to revel in my misery, didn't you? Do you despise me that much?"
Larica's eyes flickered with a trace of hatred, but she suppressed her emotions and offered a gentle smile. "Yes, I hate you. You enjoy pretending to sleep, don't you? Well, don't worry. After a month, you'll be sleeping forever."
Lucille's body stiffened at Larica's words. Despite years of trying to convince her otherwise, all her attempts to defend herself were disregarded. She took a deep breath and locked eyes with Larica. "I wasn't pretending. Why won't you believe me?"
Rolling her eyes, Larica raised an eyebrow and looked down at Lucille with condescension. "There's one thing you still don't know. Our parents went to the media, publicly disowning you. They made it clear that they don't have a daughter like you, a murderer. You're nothing but an orphan from this day forward, while I remain the only cherished daughter of the Powell family."
Larica observed Lucille's expression, finding satisfaction in her sister's crestfallen face. She smirked and walked away, leaving Lucille behind.
As Lucille watched Larica's figure recede, she could no longer hold back the tears she had suppressed. Larica's fiery red dress fluttered in the wind, resembling butterfly wings. Her demonic sister had freedom, while Lucille was forced to accept this cruel fate.
She clutched her chest, pounding it to alleviate the pain and suffocation weighing on her heart. "Why did they disown me?" she cried out internally, although she knew the answer deep down.
Throughout her upbringing, she had often heard that children were the most precious beings in a parent's heart. Parents couldn't bear to see their children in pain and would willingly endure the suffering themselves. But what about her? Since her grandmother's death, she had never felt the warmth of a true home.
"Now that I'm accused of murdering Grandpa, they severed all ties without hesitation. That's why they didn't come to support me. In their eyes, I'm just a disposable daughter, someone they can discard at any moment," she thought bitterly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks like cascading waterfalls. Yes, they were indeed her parents. They were forcing her to die.
Sniffling, she resolved. "Fine. If they want me dead, I'll grant their wish."
With tears clouding her vision, Lucille glanced around the room and noticed the pistol holstered on the police officer's waist. She gulped and reached out to grab it, but suddenly, a sharp, cold voice resounded in her mind, causing her to pause.
"You're a fool and a coward. Can't you muster the courage, even just once?"
His harsh words jolted her out of her stupor. She knew someone was framing her and wouldn't allow them to escape justice.
"That's right; I can't die yet. I'm not a murderer, and I haven't killed anyone!" Lucille clenched her fist, a surge of determination coursing through her.
Now confined in jail, stripped of her rights as a convicted criminal, Lucille sat on her bed in her prison uniform, her gaze fixed on the door, patiently awaiting the return of the mysterious man. She knew he would come back because he claimed to want her.
As night fell, Lucille struggled to keep her eyes open, succumbing to the embrace of drowsiness. When she woke up again, she found herself back in that dark room, relieved by the familiar scent that enveloped her.
"You're here," she calmly stated, as if speaking to an old friend.
"Have you made up your mind?"The man smiled and cut straight to the chase.
