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It was Judy, the lady from marketing that I met in the elevator.

She was clad in a black leather jumpsuit, with a belt strapped around her waist, and stood with an aura of disaster— a stark difference from what I saw that day in the office.

Had she been working in the company, plotting her revenge this whole time?

“I don't know what makes you think that I killed my wife, but I didn't.” Ethan gritted.

She narrowed her eyes, the corner of her lips lifting in a vile smile. “You see that clock over there?”

I glanced in the direction of her finger. An analog clock rested against a single piece of iron. It was counting down. 28: 32. My breath hitched. Twenty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds. Shit, this was bad.

“I have someone operating my computer as we speak. And they have orders—”

“You wouldn't dare.” Ethan leaned forward harshly, his body seeming even more tense.

She tsked. “I've given the order to release the pictures to the net once the time is up. The ball is in your court.”

“I'll kill you. I'll fucking ruin you, Laura.”

“Bold statement from someone who’d spend the rest of his life behind bars.” She released a dry chuckle. “Once I take the footage to the right authority, you're doomed.”

“You wouldn't. I didn’t kill Olivia. I'm innocent.”

“Let the law be the judge of that.”

I held my breath. If Ethan was found guilty, he’d go to jail.

First, tampering with the evidence could be considered a felony.

From there on, it would seem like he really did push his ex-wife. That was murder… or manslaughter.

“You know what, fuck that. The law doesn't do shit. When my father was killed, they didn't do shit. Now, I wouldn't stand and watch the same happen to my best friend.”

Father? What was she talking about?

“I'm sorry about your father, but…”

“No, you're not sorry. You're just like his murderer, a coward…”

“His accident was a hit and run. And just like you, the culprit was wealthy. Little wonder the cops never caught the man. The justice system let him go, and Mother and I were left to wallow in pain and misery.”

She glanced at me before staring at Ethan.

“No official would listen to me. They would scrap the topic and brush it under the rug as if it were a chicken’s death. I felt cheated. The only solace I found was in Olivia. She went to the ends of the earth just to make sure Mom and I had food. Dad was the breadwinner, and with his death, we were miserable. Olivia gave almost all she made from her business until Mom and I were stable to work, something no one did for us.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, a forlorn expression blanketing her eyes.

She sniffed.

“Imagine what I felt when I heard the news of my best friend’s death. I heard three months later after one of my trips out to sea. When I met Olivia’s parents, they narrated the story. They said it was an argument, and their daughter slipped and fell. I refused to believe it.”

She shook her head.

I could see the forlorn expression in her eyes.

“I refused to take chances, that if it were untrue, another bastard would go scot-free.”

She paused for a moment and then continued, “You never really loved her.”

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