Chapter 60 Chapter 60 Detective To Gabriel
Gabriel’s POV
It didn’t matter how much turmoil was swirling within me. One thing was certain now—no action was being taken against me for Emmanuella’s murder.
There was one thing prevalent in Mandena: as news of Emmanuella’s murder went viral across all platforms, the police would have already been banging on my door to arrest me if they found me guilty by their investigation.
But since they hadn’t shown up all through the night, it only meant one thing—they weren’t coming for me. Luke had indeed done a great job, and I was not a suspect at all.
I stood by the window in my bedroom this morning, watching the city view and admiring the new reality I have set for myself. Just then, I pulled out my phone once again and read the blog post from the anonymous writer for the fourth time.
“There was no mention of my name in the blog post. Luke has really done a great job, just as he said he would,” I muttered as though I were reading it for the first time.
Excitement wrapped around me like a cloak. At that moment, I knew I had to celebrate my freedom. Everything would turn around for me now.
My business would excel again, and I could reunite with Rebecca. With her influence, everything could be fixed.
As I turned from the window, my eyes caught a glimpse of a van pulling into my driveway. I squinted at it like a predator sizing up its prey, trying to decipher its intentions before it got too close.
Right there on the side of the van, a label read loud and clear: “The BBB News Update.”
Seeing that it was a news broadcasting station, I knew journalists had come to my home to question me about Emmanuella’s death.
I wasn’t scared. Not even the tiniest bit of nervousness washed over me.
Of course, this was expected. As a public figure, if my wife was murdered in a hotel, the media would naturally want to interview me about how I felt. The public needed to hear my emotions on the matter, like vultures circling a carcass, eager to feast on every shred of vulnerability.
“If I can leverage this, I can gather sympathy and use it to rebuild my brand. People will start buying from me again,” I muttered to myself.
With this thought, I darted to the bathroom. I made my hair appear messy, splashed some water on my face, and applied eyedrops to make my eyes look teary.
And thanks to my acting skills, I knew I could summon real tears with just a little time to prepare.
“Knock, knock!” I heard a knock on the door. I walked downstairs slowly, like a condemned man heading to the gallows, each step deliberate and heavy with purpose.
Before that, I made sure to change into a messy pair of pajamas—something that would make me look like the news of my wife’s murder had left me utterly distraught.
Thankfully, I had already been a depressed mess before the news broke. The living room looked naturally disheveled, reeking of alcohol.
I opened the door.
“Mr. Moretti, we’re from The BBB News Update. My name is Ms. Baker. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
“No, I don’t mind,” I answered almost immediately, my voice trembling as though on the verge of tears.
I stepped aside, allowing them to enter.
They came in—a total of five. Ms. Baker held a mic in her hand. Behind her was a man holding another mic, this one attached to a long boom stand. Three others carried different cameras.
They scanned the messy living room, their expressions betraying subtle judgment. Then, as if to emphasize the state of things, they began filming the room.
I smirked silently. That was the aim. This narrative would garner empathy and sympathy for me.
“Mr. Moretti, it’s rumored that your wife was cheating on you. It’s said she was having an affair with the man found in the hotel. What do you have to say about this? Did you know about the affair?” Ms. Baker asked, pointing the mic toward me.
“Thank you for the question, Ms. Baker.” I blinked back tears, crafting my voice to sound as though I were mourning deeply.
“If you’ve been following the controversies surrounding my family, you’d know that I’ve been struggling financially for the past few weeks. Many things have happened—things I haven’t had the chance to talk about. But now, with you here, I feel it’s time to share my heart.”
“My wife, Emmanuella, was the cause of my financial crisis—not directly, but indirectly. They say that behind every successful man, there’s a woman, right? Well, what about behind every unsuccessful man? Is there not a woman inflicting pain on him?”
“I caught my wife—not once, not twice—having extramarital affairs with other men. It left a wound in my heart. My mental health was deeply affected, which, in turn, impacted my ability to manage my business effectively.”
“When you caught her having an affair, why didn’t you file for divorce?” Ms. Baker asked.
I wiped my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “What can I say? I was the idiot who loved my wife to the core.
“More so, remember that I was once married to Rebecca? As a public figure, it’s bad for my image to jump from one woman to another. It would make me seem irresponsible. That’s why I chose to endure. But the situation continued to destroy my mental health.”
Ms. Baker leaned forward, her gaze sharp. "Thank you for answering that tough question, Mr. Moretti. But one final thing—do you think there’s more to this story than meets the eye?"
I wiped my nose, my hand trembling just enough to sell the act. “I wish I knew, Ms. Baker. All I know is that I’ve lost my wife, and the pain is unbearable.”
She nodded, signaling her team to wrap up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Moretti. We’ll let you grieve.”
The team filed out, and I closed the door behind them, leaning against it with a sigh of relief. The hard part was over.
As I turned back toward the living room, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Luke.
A knot tightened in my stomach as I answered. “What is it?”
“Gabriel,” Luke’s voice was low, dripping with smugness. “I watched the news, you were live on TV brother! It seems your little press performance went well." He chuckled.
"You said you wiped the phone. we are never to keep contact remember?" I interupted him.
"OH! yes, I remeber everything i said Gabriel. But here’s the thing—I need more money. And if I don’t get it by tomorrow, I’ll make sure certain details about Emmanuella’s murder reach the right ears.”
My grip on the phone tightened. My heart raced knowing fully well the kind of cunt Luke was. “You wouldn’t dare.” I threatened emptily.
He chuckled darkly. “Try me.” he said and he hung up the phone on me.