The interrogation room was cold and dimly lit, enclosed by gray, dusty walls. A video camera stood fixed in front of Justin, its green indicator blinking steadily. Beside him, the one-way mirror revealed nothing but impenetrable darkness.
A harsh white light poured down from above, casting his pale, expressionless face in stark relief-like an invisible net slowly tightening around him.
Demon or monster, it didn't matter. In a place like this, the truth always surfaced.
"So," Cyrus began coolly, "would you prefer an unforgettable interrogation, or will you come clean on your own?"
He sat across from Justin with another officer, both of them watching him with sharp, unyielding eyes. This time, Cyrus faced the man before him with complete composure.
"There's a world of difference between us dragging the truth out of you and you offering it willingly, Mr. Beckett," he continued. "You've got a top-tier legal team, and this isn't your first time dealing with a situation like this. I trust I don't need to spell it out."
A faint pause followed before he added with deliberate mockery. "Oh-my apologies. Strictly speaking, you're no longer the president of Beckett Group."
Justin had remained relaxed until that moment. At Cyrus' pointed remark, the faint amusement in his eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling stillness.
Cyrus, however, remained indifferent. A hollow smile tugged at his lips. "Mr. Javier signed your suspension papers before turning himself in.
"There will be an emergency board meeting tomorrow morning. There is only one item on the agenda—your official dismissal.
"Whether you're a murder suspect or the man responsible for tanking Beckett Group's share price, the result is the same. Your 'achievements' have proven you're no longer fit to lead.
"Someone like you belongs behind bars. A prison uniform would suit that twisted nature of yours far better."
Clicking his tongue, Cyrus added, "It truly goes to show that the old adage is right. That which does not belong to you will never be yours. You can plot for it or wrest it away from others as much as you want, but it will never truly be yours."
"Chief Taylor," Justin said with a soft scoff, "I can tell you're eager to settle this personally. But I'm innocent There's nothing for me to confess won't say another word until my attorney arrives."
"Do you have no recollection whatsoever of a young woman named Mildred Hayes?" Cyrus cut in coldly, ignoring the remark.
Expressionlessly, Justin answered, "I don't know who that is."
"She worked for your family 20 years ago," the other officer interjected sternly. "She took care of you for two years. You were already a teenager-not a child. How can you not remember her?"
Justin's expression didn't waver. A
faint smile touched his lips. "As you said, that was 20 years ago. Why
would remember somethineet
distant Besides, she was just a household helper. Do you know how many staff my family employed?
"There were eight assigned solely to me. How could I possibly remember each one?"
"You claim you don't remember her," Cyrus said with a cold smirk, "yet you recall the exact number of helpers. That's rather contradictory, don't you think?
"Maybe this will refresh your memory. At 3:00 pm, November 14th, 20 years ago— what were you doing at Mr. Newton Beckett's private villa?"
"I don't remember," Justin replied flatly.
Cyrus' eyes sharpened, his voice dropping to a chilling edge. "You picked up a knife and drove it into Mildred Hayes. Again and again—18 times until her blood soaked the carpet red. When she collapsed into that pool of blood, her eyes were still open. Don't tell me you've forgotten that too."
Under the table, Justin's hands clenched into tight fists, veins standing out against his skin.
He was about to speak, but Cyrus pressed on.
"You're probably wondering how I know so much about something that happened 20
years ago. Detail for detail—just like you do.
"That's because someone has come forward as a witness to testify to your
monstrous crime. This time, you're finished."