Chapter 51

At the police station, I gave my statement to Gilbert, whose expression remained professionally neutral throughout.

"So you're claiming this truck deliberately targeted you?" he asked, reviewing my written statement.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened," I insisted, frustration creeping into my voice. "This wasn't an accident, Gilbert."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "Jane, I understand you're under enormous stress with your father's situation, but..."

"But what? You think I'm being paranoid?" I cut him off. "First someone tries to kill me at an abandoned factory, then they blow up my apartment, and now this. Three attempts isn't paranoia."

Gilbert sighed, setting down his pen. "We'll investigate this thoroughly, I promise."

I knew he didn't believe me. I could see the sympathy in his eyes—the kind reserved for people on the edge of breakdown.

"How's my father doing?" I asked, changing the subject.

"As well as can be expected." Gilbert's expression softened slightly. "He's holding up."

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Please look after him, Gilbert. He's never been in a place like this before. He's never experienced this kind of hardship. I promise I'll find the real killer soon."

Gilbert nodded, "I'll do what I can."

Back in my car, I sat for a moment collecting my thoughts. John was now well-protected, likely coached by whoever was pulling the strings. Mary remained elusive, presenting a perfect facade that would be difficult to crack.

That left Lucy. I started the engine, my resolve hardening. Someone was desperate to stop me, which meant I was getting close to the truth.

---

**Hunter's POV**

I had barely settled into my office when Mike walked in.

He stood in the doorway, his usually expressionless face carrying an unusual hint of hesitation.

"Have you heard about the accident on the way to work?" he asked, lingering by the threshold.

I didn't even bother to look up. "This world has tragedies every day. Instead of gossiping, find more clients."

Mike didn't leave as expected. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You really don't want to know?"

I finally raised my head, irritation brewing beneath my calm exterior. "I want you to review the case files on your desk."

He shrugged, turning to leave. "Fine. Clearly you don't care if Jane was killed in that crash."

"Stop!" The word escaped before I could control myself, sharp and urgent. "Jane was hit?"

My heart stops at her name. Jane in danger? Again?

Mike turned back, studying my reaction with newfound interest. I cursed myself silently for my slip, cursed how easily she could shatter my carefully constructed composure.

"Is she injured? Where is she now?" I demanded, my fingers gripping the edge of my desk so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"So you do care after all," Mike noted, raising one eyebrow.

"Answer the question, Mike." My voice regained its steely hardness, though it took tremendous effort.

He finally relented. "She's fine. Swerved just in time. The driver behind her wasn't so lucky."

"I see." The grip on my desk loosened imperceptibly.

Thank God. She's safe. I should have assigned more security.

Mike continued, watching me carefully. "She seems to have nine lives. First the factory incident, then the apartment explosion, now this. Someone really wants her dead."

I didn't respond, instead reaching for my phone and quickly sending a message to confirm her security detail had been doubled.

"Just admit it," Mike pressed, stepping further into my office uninvited. "You have feelings for her."

I shot him a cold glare. "Don't be ridiculous. I just don't want her dead before I'm done playing with her."

Mike wasn't intimidated. "Keep playing your games then. Just don't regret it later."

---

**Jane's POV**

When Lucy saw me at the Beverly Hills estate, her expression immediately soured. "What are you doing here? You're not welcome in this house!" Her voice dripped with venom.

I maintained my composure, offering a diplomatic smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Aunt Lucy, I'm simply here to give you some friendly advice."

"Advice?" She scoffed, raising one eyebrow. "What could you possibly say that I'd want to hear?"

"I'll be brief," I said, casually taking out my phone and activating the voice recorder with a practiced motion. "I've been wondering why John would suddenly decide to kill his own father?"

Lucy's face contorted with anger. "How dare you! My son didn't kill anyone. Your father is the murderer here!"

I nodded thoughtfully, watching her carefully. "That's the official story, isn't it? But we both know John had far more reason to want Robert dead than my father ever did."

"What are you implying?" Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm simply pointing out that John had gambling debts, a strained relationship with his father, and if my father takes the fall, John would benefit greatly from Robert's death."

Lucy's breathing quickened, her eyes briefly darting to the stairs before returning to me. "You're talking nonsense."

"Am I? Then why did Robert deliberately implicate my father with his dying breath? It seems to me he was protecting someone."

Just as Lucy's composure began to crack, footsteps sounded on the staircase. I turned to see John descending, his expression completely different from the reckless, impulsive cousin I knew.

"Mother," he said coolly, "don't engage with her. She's trying to trap you."

I couldn't hide my surprise. Was this still the John I knew? The man who spent his time gambling away family money and chasing women.

"Well, well," I quickly recovered, "my cousin suddenly developed a brain. Who's coaching you, John? You've never been this... coherent before."

John's eyes narrowed. "The evidence against your father is irrefutable, Jane. This little visit won't change anything."

"The evidence was manufactured," I replied calmly. "We both know that."

John stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I think you should leave now. Unless you'd like me to search you for recording devices? Since you entered our home under false pretenses, that would be within my rights."

I held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "Touch me, and I'll add assault to the list of charges when this all comes to light."

He retreated slightly, but his expression remained confident.

As I moved toward the door, I paused, unable to resist delivering one final blow. "Aunt Lucy, aren't you curious about who might have influenced John to murder his father?"

Lucy's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"Mary isn't quite the innocent angel you believe her to be," I said deliberately casually. "If I were you, I'd watch my back. If she helped orchestrate Robert's murder, who knows who might be next?"

"Get out!" John thundered, but I still caught a glimpse of doubt flickering in Lucy's eyes.

"Remember what I said," I called over my shoulder as I walked out. "Not everyone in this family is who they pretend to be."