Chapter 1
“Why did you murder them?”
The detective placed the photographs on the interrogation table one by one.
A businessman.
A lawyer.
A police officer.
Her father-in-law.
Her brother-in-law.
All dead.
The woman sitting across from him smiled faintly.
Then—
flashback.
—
They were walking home together just like always.
Laughing quietly. Fingers intertwined.
The city lights reflected against the wet streets while he kept talking about something stupid from work that she honestly wasn’t listening to because she was too busy staring at him.
That was the thing about love.
Sometimes you stopped hearing words and just loved the existence of the person.
When they reached the apartment door, she let go of his hand for only a second to open it.
Just one second.
One small second.
The keys slipped slightly between her fingers.
Then—
a shadow appeared behind him.
Everything happened too fast.
A hand.
A knife.
One brutal strike across his neck.
Another directly into his chest.
Her smile disappeared instantly.
For a moment she couldn’t even understand what she was seeing.
The attacker ran before she could even scream properly.
He collapsed near the apartment door.
Blood everywhere.
Too much blood.
“No— no no no no—”
She dropped to her knees immediately, pressing both shaking hands against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
But blood kept pouring through her fingers.
Warm.
Endless.
His eyes were still open.
Looking at her.
Then slowly losing focus.
People started opening apartment doors.
Someone screamed.
Someone called an ambulance.
But she heard nothing clearly.
Everything became numb.
Like her body stopped understanding reality.
She kept crying while holding him against her chest.
“Please… please stay… please…”
But he died before the ambulance arrived.
And the worst part?
The moment he died—
she realized she had nobody.
Nobody she truly trusted.
Nobody she could lean on.
Because everyone around them loved money more than emotions.
And suddenly the world felt terrifyingly empty.
—
At the police station, detectives kept asking questions.
“Did he have enemies?”
“Did you see the attacker?”
“Was he involved in anything illegal?”
But she sat there silently.
Shocked.
Broken.
Unable to answer.
It felt like her soul had died beside him outside that apartment.
—
The funeral reception was filled with rich people.
Luxury cars.
Black suits.
Expensive watches.
Elite businessmen shaking hands beside flower arrangements.
People speaking softly about “tragedy” while checking stock updates on their phones.
She couldn’t even greet them properly.
She only cried silently beside his photograph.
And that was when she started noticing things.
His father didn’t look heartbroken.
He looked disturbed.
Like there was something he needed to find after his son’s death.
His older brother looked shocked too—
but not emotionally shocked.
More like a plan had failed unexpectedly.
Like something was supposed to happen differently that night.
And his sister-in-law…
she looked irritated more than sad.
Disappointed.
As if she was already thinking about shopping bills and company accounts instead of the dead man lying inside the memorial room.
Then she overheard it.
“We still get his shares, right?”
Her breathing stopped.
Just like that.
No grief.
No humanity.
Just money.
Only money.
—
After three days, life returned to normal for everyone else.
Phones rang again.
Business meetings continued.
People stopped visiting.
Stopped calling.
Stopped caring.
But for her—
time stopped completely.
—
People told her warm water helps soothe grief.
So one night she entered the bathroom and stood beneath freezing cold water instead.
Maybe she wanted punishment.
Maybe she wanted to feel something stronger than emptiness.
Water ran down her face and body for almost an hour.
But she wasn’t crying anymore.
Not even one tear.
That scared her more than his death.
—
The next morning she burned all her colorful clothes.
Every soft version of herself disappeared into flames.
She removed her makeup from the vanity except for one red lipstick.
The one he gifted her.
That one she kept.
Then she stood in front of the mirror and cut her long hair into a short uneven bob.
Because only he was allowed to touch her hair.
Nobody else ever would again.
—
Inside the apartment, she cleaned one empty room completely.
Then started covering the walls with photographs.
His father.
His brother.
Business partners.
Employees.
Politicians.
Police officers.
Everyone she suspected.
She collected CCTV footage obsessively and replayed the murder scene over and over again.
Studying reactions.
Expressions.
Body language.
Something was wrong.
Something bigger was hidden beneath his death.
And she was going to uncover every single piece of it.
Even if it destroyed her too.
