Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Mira’s POV
I have never experienced emotional whiplash the way I did that evening.
One minute I was staring at a blood-stained handkerchief in Zara’s trembling hand, the next we were speeding toward the police station like two idiots who had just unlocked the worst possible answer and didn’t even have the manual to survive it.
“This is it,” Zara kept saying, clutching the cloth like it was the Holy Grail. “This is actual evidence.”
“Or a very unfortunate wounded hand,” I muttered, but even I didn’t believe myself. The stain was too dark. Too deliberate.
We didn’t go to the police first. We went to Alejandro.
Because no matter how much I complained about him being trouble wrapped in expensive suits and expensive silence, this involved him. And if Ace truly had something to do with Rara’s death, Alejandro deserved to know before anyone else.
The officer barely glanced at us when we requested another visit. At this point, I was practically part of the interior decor. If they installed a nameplate under my chair, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
Alejandro was brought into the room a few minutes later. He looked tired, but not broken. There was something different in his eyes tonight, something sharper, like he was calculating every angle before making a move.
He sat on the cold metal stool opposite me and Zara, his gaze resting on her face first.
Then it shifted to me.
“She’s my best friend. She knows everything and she’s helping me,” I explained quickly, already reading the silent question in his expression.
Dro relaxed slightly. “That wasn’t what I wanted to ask. I know who she is.”
Zara pinched my thigh under the table at that. I wasn’t surprised. It was the Montenegros we were dealing with. Of course he knew.
“Since you know her, what did you want to ask?” I said.
“Why do you both look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked calmly.
Zara didn’t waste time. She dropped the handkerchief onto the metal table between us.
Alejandro’s gaze lowered.
His jaw tightened.
“Where did you get that?” he asked quietly.
“In a dumpster,” Zara replied. “Behind an abandoned building. After Ace dumped a bag of creepy handmade dolls.”
Alejandro blinked once. Then again.
“Dolls?” he repeated slowly.
“Yes. Dolls. Handmade. Button eyes. Emotional trauma stitched into fabric,” I added dryly. “Very serial-killer chic. Ten out of ten for nightmare fuel.”
He didn’t laugh the way we had earlier. His eyes stayed fixed on the cloth.
“That’s blood,” he said.
“Yes, Dro. We’re aware,” I replied. “We weren’t expecting strawberry jam.”
He leaned back, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
“Did he see you?” he asked.
“No.”
“And you’re sure it was him?”
“Yes.”
Silence settled over the room, thick and uncomfortable.
Zara crossed her arms. “He was arguing with a man inside the supermarket too. The guy handed him something. It was shady.”
Alejandro’s eyes flickered at that.
“What kind of man?”
“He wore a cap and a jacket meant for winter under this scorching sun. Looked like he shops exclusively at Suspicious Men Anonymous,” I said.
Still no smile.
Something shifted in his expression then.
But it wasn’t panic. Any normal person realizing his friend might be the reason he was in jail would at least blink faster. Alejandro just… processed.
“He gets nosebleeds,” Alejandro said suddenly.
Zara and I stared at him.
“What?” I asked flatly.
“Ace. Since boarding school. He gets random nosebleeds. Stress triggers them.”
Zara frowned. “So you’re saying this is just what? Allergies?”
“I’m saying don’t jump to conclusions,” he replied sharply.
I looked at him, studying his face.
“You saw him leave her room,” I reminded him quietly.
He didn’t answer right away.
Before he could, the door opened.
All three of us turned.
Alejandro’s lawyer walked in, expression unreadable, wearing the exact same suit as yesterday. Either he owned duplicates or that suit had signed a lifetime contract with him.
Something about the way he held himself made my stomach twist.
He closed the door behind him, looked at Alejandro, and the next words that left his mouth were not what I expected.
“They’ve caught the murderer.”
The words exploded in the room.
“What?” I breathed.
Alejandro rose halfway from his chair. “Who?”
The lawyer inhaled slowly.
“Rina’s ex-boyfriend.”
Everything inside me stalled.
“Her what?” Zara whispered.
“He came in this morning and confessed,” the lawyer continued. “Apparently he saw her earlier that evening with Alejandro and confronted her after Alejandro left. It escalated. They had unfinished business.”
My brain struggled to catch up.
“No,” I said automatically. “That doesn’t…”
“It does,” the lawyer replied calmly. “Security footage places him entering the floor after Alejandro left. Time of death aligns.”
Alejandro looked frozen. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Mark. Or something like that,” the lawyer said dismissively. “The man looks shady. He has an impressive record here at this station, unfortunately.”
“So… Ace is not the killer?” I whispered more to myself than anyone else.
Zara and I exchanged a look.
My heart should have felt relief. Joy, even. I wasn’t mingling with a murderer. Instead, I felt confused. Almost foolish.
The handkerchief was still on the table.
Alejandro picked it up slowly, examining it more closely.
“I told you,” he murmured. “He gets nosebleeds.”
“Then why the microphone?” I pressed. Alejandro had told me about the wire Ace had worn earlier and it had fueled my suspicions beyond reason.
“Microphone?” the lawyer asked.
The door opened again.
Ace strolled in, face composed, almost casual.
“The police suspected Alejandro, so I agreed to wear a wire when speaking to him,” he said. Then he turned to Alejandro. “They thought he might confess privately. I’m sorry, dude. They said they’d make things easier for you if I cooperated.”
I stared at Alejandro. His face had gone pale, balanced on the thin line between believing his friend and feeling guilty for ever doubting him.
“So you weren’t trying to trap him?” Zara asked carefully.
Ace smiled. “Why would I trap my friend?”
“The truth is, I saw you two rummaging through the bag I dumped yesterday when I came back looking for my phone,” he added.
Zara shot me a look. “Worst detectives ever,” she whispered under her breath.
He had caught us. Of course he had.
Alejandro’s jaw tightened. “I feel like the worst friend, Ace.”
Ace tapped his shoulder lightly. “You shouldn’t, bro. I don’t know what you guys were thinking, but I’ll always look out for you.”
And suddenly I felt like the worst person alive.
We had followed him. Dug through his trash. Mocked his dolls. Convicted him in our heads without a trial. Only to discover he was innocent.
Zara exhaled slowly. “And the guy at the supermarket?”
“He’s a private investigator,” Ace explained. “He approached me for questioning since the CCTV showed me leaving her room. I swear I only went there to pick up Dro after my little evening with you, Mira. I knew he’d be there because I saw him go in before I came to get you.”
“What evening with Mira?” Alejandro asked immediately.
“I’ll explain later,” I cut in smoothly. “The important thing is that you’re a free man.”
“We can leave in thirty minutes after I finish the paperwork,” the lawyer announced. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Everything moved quickly after that. Signatures. Stamps. Doors unlocking.
Within an hour, we were back at the hotel.
They finally found me another room and without hesitation, I packed out of Alejandro’s and moved into the new one with Zara.
“You can’t be serious about quitting your job over a little mishap,” Zara said, trying to reason with me like she had been doing for the past hour.
“Little?” I scoffed, dropping my phone onto the bed. “If you haven’t noticed, the rich are chaos in designer clothing. My fragile heart cannot survive this level of adventure.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re dramatic.”
“I prefer emotionally self-aware.”
As she opened her mouth to argue again, the doorbell rang.
We both froze.
I walked over and pulled the door open.
Alejandro stood there.
His expression was softer than I expected.
“I need to talk to you, Mira,” he said quietly. “It’s private.”