Chapter 59 Chapter 59 Rebecca Read The News
Rebecca’s POV
I stepped out of my sleek black car, my heels clicking against the pavement as I adjusted the lapel of my tailored blazer. The meeting with the business executives had been exhausting, yet my mind refused to let go of darker, more pressing thoughts.
The murders of Roy and Cassandra lingered heavily, clawing at my conscience like a relentless specter. Gabriel’s involvement was no longer a suspicion but a certainty, especially after Natasha provided the damning evidence.
The cool night air brushed against my skin, but it did nothing to ease the fire of anger burning within me. Gabriel wasn’t just a liar and a cheat. He was a murderer, willing to send a hired killer to eliminate two innocent people—and then miraculously, I was framed for it.
I entered my mansion, the soft glow of the chandelier above casting faint shadows on the marble floor. My phone buzzed in my bag, and I quickly fished it out.
“Breaking News: Emmanuella Moretti Murdered in a Hotel Room!”
My heart stopped, my hand trembling as I stared at the screen.
“What?” I whispered, frozen in place.
Gabriel had already crossed so many lines, but to kill his own wife? Was he truly this cold and calculating? I barely had time to process the shock when Natasha’s hurried footsteps echoed from the staircase.
She descended swiftly, clutching her tablet, her face flushed with urgency.
“Rebecca, you need to see this,” she said, holding the device out to me.
I took it, my hands still shaky as I sank into the nearest leather armchair. Natasha stood behind me, leaning over my shoulder as the video began to play.
The grainy footage showed the man Gabriel hired—the same man who had murdered Roy and Cassandra. He was now escorting Emmanuella into a luxurious hotel.
I squinted at the screen, leaning closer.
“Pause it,” I said, my voice sharp. Natasha tapped the screen, freezing the frame.
“Look at him,” I muttered, pointing to the man. “He’s confident. He knows exactly what he’s doing. But after he takes her inside... she never comes out. Only he came out.”
Natasha nodded grimly. “Exactly. He killed her, went to the hotel’s control room, and deleted the footage of himself before meeting Gabriel again at his home. If not for the CCTV on the street where we fetched this, we would have never known. He planned it all so well.”
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
"I have more to show you," Natasha said.
Then she swiped to another file, pulling up a blog post. “You’ll want to read this.”
As I skimmed the text, a chill ran down my spine. The anonymous blogger described the murders in chilling detail—details only the killer could know.
“This is insane,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why would a hitman write about his crimes?”
“To control the narrative,” Natasha explained. “Think about it. If the public sees these as random killings with no connection, no one suspects Gabriel.”
“But why risk exposing himself?” I questioned, pacing the room now, the tablet still in my hand.
“Arrogance,” Natasha replied simply. “He’s untouchable. Or so he thinks.”
I stopped pacing and turned to face her. “We’re reporting this. Tonight.”
Natasha’s eyes widened. “Rebecca, think this through. The police already suspect you. They could twist this against us.”
“Let them try,” I said, grabbing my coat. “This is our chance to bring Gabriel down, and I’m not waiting another second.”
Natasha hesitated but eventually followed me. We left without my chauffeur, taking my car to the station.
At the station, the air was heavy with the smell of stale coffee and paper. A lone detective sat behind a cluttered desk, sipping from a chipped mug. He looked up as we approached.
“Ms. Harrington,” he said with a smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”
I ignored his tone, placing the tablet and flash drive on the desk in front of him.
“I have evidence,” I said firmly. “Gabriel Moretti is behind the murders of Roy, Cassandra, Diana, and now his own wife, Emmanuella. Watch this.”
He leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “Evidence, huh? And why should I believe you? You’re still a prime suspect, last I checked.”
“Detective,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the room. “I don’t care what you think of me. Do your job and look at the evidence. This footage shows the hitman Gabriel hired. We have proof.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my frustration. “Fine,” he said, reaching for the flash drive.
Natasha’s hand shot out to stop him. “This is the only copy,” she lied.
I glanced at her, confused, but she gave me a quick, meaningful look. Understanding her intent, I nodded.
“Yes,” I added. “This is the only copy.”
The detective inserted the flash drive into his computer, his face shifting from skepticism to shock as the video played.
“Is this for real?” he muttered, his tone changing.
“You tell me,” I said coldly.
He paused the video and looked up at us. “We’ll investigate this. Don’t speak to anyone about it until we contact you.”
“Do you understand the urgency here?” I demanded.
“I do,” he said, but his smirk returned—a sly, unsettling expression that made my stomach churn.
Why did he smirk? I couldn't place it the longer I tried to think about it.