Chapter 17
Pinned against the cold floor, Emily Smith could still smell the pungent perfume clinging to Emma Clark. When the officers pulled them apart, her hair tie had snapped at some point, leaving her long hair disheveled over her shoulders.
The police station's lights were blindingly harsh.
"Name?" The officer taking notes didn't even glance up.
"Emily Smith."
From the neighboring interrogation room, she could hear Emma's exaggerated sobs about how badly she'd been wronged. Emily stared at the bruises on her wrist and suddenly found it all absurd.
The surveillance footage should have cleared her.
But the moment the woman in the tailored suit strode into the station on stilettos, Emily knew things wouldn't be that simple. The familiar scent of the woman's perfume twisted her stomach—it was the same fragrance her late mother had loved.
"Emily," the woman's voice dripped with honeyed venom, "just apologize, and we can—"
"My mother died eight years ago." Emily cut her off, her voice feather-light. "Who are you again?"
The old officer's offered cup of water had gone cold.
Emily studied her reflection in the cup. The bruise at her temple looked grotesque under the harsh light. She suddenly remembered she had a recording session tomorrow. Would Daniel Chen be waiting for her?
"Should we contact your family?" The officer asked for the third time.
She shook her head. Her father was in prison. Her sister was in the hospital. She hadn't had a home in years.
In the end, she gave them Daniel's number. When the call connected, she bit her lip hard to keep the tears at bay.
Twenty minutes later, the handcuffs clicked open.
The night wind hit her face, and Emily shivered. Squinting, she saw Daniel sprinting toward her from his car.
"Does it hurt?" His fingers brushed lightly over the bruise on her temple.
Emily shook her head, but the moment he pulled her into his arms, her eyes burned. His suit jacket carried a faint woody scent, warm enough to make her want to cry.
She didn't notice the black sedan parked under the distant trees.
William Johnson's hand hovered over the door handle for three seconds before withdrawing. In the rearview mirror, the taillights of the white Audi gradually vanished into the night.
"Take me back to Jinzhou Bay." He closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing.
The driver stole a glance at his employer's stormy expression in the mirror and wisely stayed silent. Outside, the police station's neon lights cast fractured reflections on the rain-slicked pavement.