The phone buzzed in Inspector General Amos’s hand. He glanced at the screen and smirked. Morin. He answered. “How’s the party planning going?” Morin’s voice came through, low and deliberate. “Forget the party. How’s the interrogation?” Amos leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Difficult. The man acts like he’s made of steel. No fear, no reaction.” Morin hummed. “Is that so?” Amos let out a dry chuckle. “So far, he’s keeping his mouth shut, but trust me—I’ll make him talk. I always do.” “Good,” Morin said, his tone sharper now. “Make sure the confession is on video. No excuses.” "Of course," Amos said, dragging out the words. "That’s the plan. He'll say whatever I want him to say. It’s only a matter of pushing the right buttons." Morin went quiet for a second. Then, his voice dropped lower, filled with something darker. "I have a suggestion." Amos raised a brow. “Oh?” A cruel chuckle came from the other end. "Something that will make him confess even faster."

Andrew’s fists clenched tighter, his jaw tightening as if the mere mention of Benita’s name was enough to break him. The air in the room grew heavier. Did he just hear Benita ? What has Benita got to do with this? Andrew thought , his eyes brimming with fire “Give me what I want , or your girlfriend will die!”Amos continued ,his voice firmer He gestured to the screen on the wall, and his hand moved toward the remote. He pressed a button, and the image on the screen flickered to life. There she was. Benita Andrew’s expression darkened. His eyes flaring with fury. The screen was blurry at first, the picture not quite clear , but there was no mistaking her face. She was sitting in a dimly lit room, surrounded by men. Amos couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction. He had the upper hand now. There was no way Andrew wouldn't confess now he had revealed his girlfriend was in hostage Morin was right , this was the only way to get the confession out of the man .

Everyone turned to see who had spoken. Amos’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the chief commissioner standing at the entrance. His eyes widened in disbelief. It felt like a ghost had just walked into the room. The chief commissioner. Back. Amos couldn’t comprehend it. His mind raced, the warning from earlier echoing in his ears. No way. This is impossible. He remembered the last time the commissioner had taken his half-year break. It was around this time last year, and everyone knew how strict the ritual was. Not a single person had expected him to break it. No one even thought it was possible. But he had. He had stayed away for half the year, keeping himself secluded. The last major case that happened while he was gone had shaken the department. The commissioner didn’t return for that either. He hadn’t even bothered to check in, leaving everyone to pick up the pieces. So why now? Amos couldn’t grasp it. Had the commissioner really come back for this man ? He could feel

Andrew took one slow breath and stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the pale figure lying helpless on the floor . Mr. Roman’s chest barely moved. Time was slipping through their fingers and something needed to be done before it got out of hand . “I can heal him,” Andrew said, his voice steady, filled with certainity and boldness The moment those words fell off Andrew's lips , all eyes shifted to him. Their judgmental piercing gazes, pinned on him . Aunt Monica turned, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. “What do you know about curing disease and saving lives?” she hissed. “Not much,” Andrew replied. “But I can be of help.” The room turned colder with her glare. “Shut that mouth of yours. No one has time for your nonsense.” She snapped angrily Anastacia spun toward him, eyes red and brimming. “You stressed my father out with that little stunt you pulled earlier. This is all on you. Since you arrived, all we’ve had is chaos.” Anastacia yelled , her eyes brimming with hatred t

An uncomfortable silence sat between Andrew and the young girl , as he drove through the empty streets. Ever since she got in the car ,she hadn't said a word . She sat curled in the passenger seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body trembling despite the warmth of the car’s heater. Andrew stole a glance at vulnerable state , his chest constricting with pity . She looked so young and vulnerable . Her lip was split, her cheek swollen, dark bruises blooming along her arms. Her bare feet were caked in dirt, her thin dress torn in places. She looked fragile and torn . He exhaled sharply, focusing back on the road. He had no business getting involved. He had his own war to fight, his own revenge to see through. Yet, something in him refused to look away. “They won’t stop,” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. Andrew turned to her. “What?” “They’ll keep looking for me,” she murmured. Her fingers dug into her arms, nails pressing against bruised sk