Chapter 71The reporters had done what they did best. Less than half an hour after the chaos, a flurry of headlines flashed across screens, tickers scrolled with urgency, and social media was flooded with updates. The public’s appetite for sensational news was insatiable, and the story of the murder, the mob, and now Mirella waking up was impossible to ignore. Every outlet seemed to be competing for the fastest scoop, and none had patience for accuracy over speed.Inside the small office block of The Daily Sentinel, the chief editor moved like a whirlwind. Her heels clicked against the polished floors as she navigated between desks, fielding greetings from some staff members and offering curt nods to others. A few junior reporters waved, hoping for acknowledgment; she ignored them, eyes fixed on the tasks she had to juggle.Minutes later, she stopped abruptly. The office was unusually quiet now, the staff watching her with a mixture of respect and apprehension. She raised a hand and s

By noon, the interrogation room felt smaller than it actually was.Kaelen had been seated there for hours, his back straight against the cold metal chair, his hands resting calmly on the table despite the tension coiled tightly in his chest.The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second stretching longer than the last, the rhythmic sound echoing off the painted cinderblock walls like a countdown.He had already given his statement—twice.He had answered every question they asked, clarified timelines down to the minute, explained his movements with clinical precision, and cooperated with every invasive procedure they required of him.Still, they kept him there.Personally, it was humiliating.He was the CEO of Novax, a man used to the high-stakes atmosphere of boardrooms and global negotiations, not the harsh glare of interrogation lamps and the smell of stale coffee and floor wax.Yet he endured it all without complaint.He kept his voice steady, his posture composed, his express

Jonah did not let the silence stretch too long.“The good news,” he said, finally, “is that not everyone stayed quiet.”Kaelen leaned back slightly in the passenger seat, one arm resting against the door, his eyes tracking the passing streetlights. “Go on.”“Some of the media companies that attended the conference last time spoke up,” Jonah continued. “They pushed back against the articles that started circulating this morning.”Kaelen’s brows drew together faintly, his interest piqued but cautious. “Pushed back how?”“They questioned the credibility of the reports,” Jonah said. “They didn't just issue denials; they pointed out specific inconsistencies in the timeline of the allegations. A few editors even ran op-eds hinting that the sheer speed of the media blitz suggested a coordinated effort—that there might be a bigger conspiracy behind the smear campaign.”Kaelen straightened a little. That, he had not expected. In an industry built on clicks and scandal, neutrality was rare, but

Miranda’s apartment was quiet and it looked like a place only vampires would stay in.The curtains were drawn halfway, allowing dull daylight to seep in without committing to brightness.A mug sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, untouched, and the faint hum of a laptop fan was the only sound breaking the silence.Miranda stood near the couch, arms crossed, her expression unmistakably irritated.“You know,” she said flatly, “most people knock with apologies when they show up unannounced. Especially when it’s barely noon.”Kaelen ignored the jab.He had expected the cold reception, knowing her temperament was never at its best when the sun was still climbing the sky.Miranda was always like this when her routine was disrupted, and today was no exception to her rigid rules of morning solitude.He didn’t bother responding to her complaint or offering a hollow excuse for his intrusion.Instead, he took two steps forward and went straight to the point.“There was a murder at Novax,” he sa

The bricks in this part of town were slick with a greasy kind of moisture that seemed to sweat out of the cracks, and the air smelled like a mix of wet cardboard and exhaust. Darren stood in the deepest part of the shadows, his tailored suit jacket feeling far too tight across his shoulders. He adjusted his cuffs for the tenth time, then checked his watch again. The glowing hands told him it had been exactly seven minutes since he arrived, but it felt like three hours.He shifted his weight, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly against the uneven pavement. He checked his watch again. Then he adjusted his tie. Then he ran a hand through his hair, glancing nervously toward the mouth of the alley. Every distant siren or clatter of a trash can lid made his heart do a frantic little dance against his ribs. He looked like a man who was terrified of being seen, but even more terrified of being stood after."Nice suit, Darren. Really. That’s some high-quality shit right there."The v