Chapter 43 up
Clark stood in the middle of the dimly lit living room, his jaw set hard. In his hand was a brown folder containing pages that felt heavier than stone. Preliminary evidence. Blurry parking-lot CCTV footage, copies of suspicious transactions, names that were all too familiar to Vincent—everything was now before him. And standing before him as well was Selena.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” Clark said quietly, his voice trembling as he restrained it. “I came for the truth.”
Selena, who had been sitting on the sofa, immediately stood up. Her face went pale, then crumpled in an instant. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking violently. “Clark… you can’t just believe Vincent,” she sobbed. “He hates me. He wants to destroy us.”
Clark opened the folder. He placed the first sheet of paper on the table. “This isn’t a story. These are recordings. These are transactions. Explain them.”
Selena’s crying grew more frantic. She shook her head hard, her hair falling loose and disheveled. “I—I’m pregnant!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “You know how fragile I am. You know my past. That trauma still haunts me every night. You know I panic so easily… and now you come here accusing me like this?”
Clark swallowed. Selena’s words pierced the place he knew too well—his guilt. He remembered the days in the hospital, Selena’s cold hand clutching his, the tears he had always believed were sincere. “Selena, I’m not accusing you without reason,” he said more gently. “I’m just asking for an explanation.”
“An explanation?” Selena let out a bitter laugh through her tears. She pressed her palm against her chest. “My explanation is right here! My heart nearly stops every time you say her name—Nyla! Do you know how it feels to hear you call her name in your sleep? Do you know what it’s like to live under the shadow of a woman who doesn’t even want me to exist?”
Clark closed his eyes for a moment. That name—Nyla—rose like an old wound tearing open again. “This isn’t about my feelings,” he said firmly. “This is about what happened to her.”
Selena stepped closer, her movements unsteady. She grabbed Clark’s arm, her nails digging into his skin. “I don’t know anything,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m just a frightened pregnant woman. This is all too much. I feel attacked… by you.”
Clark gently freed his arm. “Vincent found hired people who often work for you,” he said. “There are conversations. There’s money. Selena… please.”
Selena’s expression changed instantly. Her crying stopped abruptly, replaced by a cold, empty stare. It lasted only a second—then the tears came again, heavier than before. “So you choose to believe him,” she said in a broken voice. “After everything I’ve been through with you.”
She took a few steps back, then let out a small, fragile laugh. “You know, Clark? Every time I try to breathe, it feels like the world is pressing down on me. And now you’re pressing down on me too.” She wiped her tears roughly. “What’s the point of me holding on if even you don’t believe me?”
Clark stepped forward. “Selena, stop. We can resolve this the right way.”
“The right way?” Selena echoed, then turned toward the kitchen. Her steps were quick, unexpected. Clark followed, his heart pounding.
Selena opened a drawer. The sound of metal clinking echoed. She pulled out a kitchen knife—long, gleaming under the light. Clark froze.
“Selena,” he said, almost shouting. “Put that down.”
Selena turned around, the knife trembling in her hand. Tears soaked her cheeks, yet a faint smile crept onto her lips—a smile that made Clark’s chest tighten. “You’re forcing me,” she said. “If I keep living with these accusations, I’ll be destroyed. If I die, at least I won’t be blamed anymore.”
Clark moved slowly, his palms raised. “Don’t do this. For the sake of the baby. For us.”
“This baby?” Selena looked down at her stomach, one hand pressing against it tightly. “This baby is the only reason I’ve survived. And you—you take that reason away from me with your suspicion.”
“No,” Clark shook his head, his voice hoarse. “I just want to find Nyla. I want the truth.”
The name was spoken again. Selena flinched, her eyes flashing with anger. “It’s always her,” she hissed. “Always Nyla. Even when I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, you still say her name.”
Clark fell silent. His heart split in two. On one side, he saw the woman he loved, shattered and terrified. On the other, the image of Nyla—missing, possibly hurt—hammered relentlessly at his mind. The truth stood between two equally merciless forms of guilt.
“I won’t accuse you without evidence,” he finally said. “But I won’t close my eyes either.”
Selena raised the knife a little higher. Her hand trembled, her breath coming in gasps. “If you don’t believe me,” she said in a broken voice, each word like a slash, “then it’s better for me to die.”