Chapter 46 Chapter 46 Can’t Sleep
Emmanuella’s POV
I gasped, letting out a sharp cry. My phone nearly slipped from my hand as I turned over on the bed. My heart raced. I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
For hours, I’d been lying there, clinging to my phone and sighing every few minutes, waiting for a call from Attorney John—or at least, the man I assumed could help me. But now, reading this damning article, my mind spiraled into chaos.
I scanned the words again, each one slicing through my composure.
"Am I the prime suspect because Cassandra is also dead?" I whispered to myself, my voice trembling.
The article was gaining traction quickly. Hundreds of shares, thousands of comments. It wouldn’t be long before the police came knocking. My body froze as I imagined the interrogation, the accusations, the humiliation.
I jumped out of bed. Gabriel was downstairs. Maybe he could help me. He was the man of the house, after all, and he should know what to do.
I reached the door but hesitated, my hand hovering over the knob. Memories of my actions—the manipulation, the lies, the betrayal—flooded my mind. How could I expect Gabriel to help me after everything I’d done to him? If anything, he’d probably celebrate my downfall.
I cracked the door open and peeked outside. The house was silent, save for the faint sound of Gabriel’s laughter. He was in the living room, probably scrolling through his phone as usual. I tiptoed down the stairs, each step slow and deliberate, my heart pounding.
Reaching the living room entrance, I stopped and leaned against the wall. Carefully, I peeked inside.
There he was, stretched out on the couch, a faint smirk on his face. He was reading something on his phone, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement.
"How will she get out of this? She’s definitely going to jail," he said aloud, his voice carrying a smug edge.
My stomach dropped. He was reading the same article.
My breath caught in my throat as I backed away from the door. Tears pricked my eyes, but I swallowed them down. Gabriel wasn’t going to help me. He was enjoying this. My humiliation, my fear—it was his victory.
I hurried back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
“Damn it!” I cursed, pacing back and forth. Every few seconds, I glanced at the window, half-expecting the police to show up with flashing lights and handcuffs.
The Madena police were notorious for their swift actions. They didn’t wait for evidence. If they smelled trouble, they swooped in like vultures.
I grabbed my phone again, staring at the blank screen. My hands shook as I debated whether to call Attorney John. He hadn’t reached out, and his silence only made my panic worse. Finally, I gave in and dialed his number.
The phone rang three times before a groggy voice answered.
“Uh... Mrs. Moretti?”
“You’re sleeping?” I snapped, my voice sharp and accusing.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he muttered, clearly irritated.
“How dare you sleep when I can’t!” I yelled, my voice cracking.
“Hey, hey, calm down,” he replied, his tone softening slightly. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” I repeated, my voice rising. “I can’t fucking sleep because some blog just accused me of murder! They called me the prime suspect! Do you have any idea what this means?”
There was a brief pause, followed by a low chuckle.
“Mrs. Moretti, I understand you’re upset—”
“Upset? Upset?!” I shouted. “I’m losing my mind, and you’re laughing at me?”
“Relax,” he said firmly. “I’ll be at your house first thing in the morning. By then, I’ll have everything under control.”
“How?” I demanded. “How are you going to fix this?”
“Trust me,” he replied, his voice calm but evasive.
Before I could argue further, the line went dead. He hung up.
I threw the phone onto the bed, my chest heaving with frustration.
“Damn it!” I screamed, punching the mattress. This wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. I hadn’t killed anyone, but someone was determined to destroy me.
I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the wall. My mind raced with questions. Who was framing me? And why? Tears spilled down my cheeks as I sat there, utterly defeated.
Hours passed in a haze of panic and exhaustion. By the time morning arrived, I hadn’t slept a wink. My eyes were swollen, my body trembling from stress.
A sudden knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts.
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. Was it the police? Had the article already reached them?
I jumped to my feet and rushed downstairs. Gabriel was still in the living room, lounging on the couch. He glanced at the door but made no move to answer it.
Another knock.
“Are you going to get that?” I asked, my voice sharp.
He looked at me lazily and shrugged. “Why don’t you?”
I clenched my fists and stormed past him, yanking the door open.
There stood Attorney John, dressed in a crisp suit despite the early hour. His expression was unreadable, but the faint smirk on his lips set me on edge.
“Good morning, Mrs. Moretti,” he said smoothly.
Before I could respond, Gabriel appeared behind me.
“John,” he said casually, nodding at the man like they were old friends.
“Gabriel,” John replied with a knowing smile.
My eyes darted between them, suspicion prickling at my skin.
“How do you two know each other?” I asked, my voice sharp.
Neither of them answered immediately. Instead, they exchanged a brief glance, their silence speaking volumes.
“Mrs. Moretti,” John said finally, his tone overly polite, “why don’t we continue this conversation somewhere private? There’s a coffee shop down the street.”
He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
I nodded slowly, my mind racing. As I stepped outside to follow him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.