Chapter 90
Not long after Elizabeth gave her statement, the sound of a powerful engine tore through the chilled night air, and a black sedan screeched to a halt just outside the police tape.
The car came to a sudden stop in a forceful manner just outside the warning line. The door opened, and Jacob stepped out.
He was dressed in a dark overcoat, his expression colder than the winter night itself. His gaze, sharp as a blade, swept across the chaotic scene, finally landing on Elizabeth. He scanned her from head to toe, a methodical, unnerving appraisal. Only after confirming she was unharmed, save for a smudge of dust on the hem of her clothes, did his glacial stare move on.
"What happened here?" His voice was low, yet it carried a weight that seemed to settle heavily on everyone present.
The officer who had been on the receiving end of Lilith's slap squared his shoulders and approached, his reluctance palpable. "Mr. Smith, the shooting was over when we arrived on the scene. Preliminary assessment suggests someone opened fire from across the street. The intended target appears to have been that woman."
He gestured toward Lucy, who was still slumped on the ground. "Ms. Windsor was present and returned fire in self-defense. We're expanding the search perimeter and pulling surveillance footage."
"Have you found him?" Jacob cut him off, his tone devoid of any inflection, which only made it more menacing.
Sweat beaded on the officer's forehead. "We're still searching. The perpetrator made a clean exit."
Suddenly, Jacob's hand shot out, a blur of motion too quick to follow.
In the next instant, a silver pistol materialized in his grip, its cold muzzle pressed firmly against the officer's temple.
A collective gasp rippled through the surrounding police and onlookers, the air freezing in their lungs.
"I'm giving you thirty seconds," Jacob's voice was a whisper, yet it held the crushing force of a thunderclap. "Tell me where the shooter is right now. And don't insult my intelligence with platitudes about an ongoing search."
The officer's legs gave way, his face a mask of pale terror. "Mr. Smith… truly… we haven't found him yet, but… but Ms. Moretti was here. She was very angry and insisted that we catch the murderer. She went that way with her security." He shakily pointed in the direction Lilith had departed.
Jacob's eyes narrowed. He slowly retracted the gun, the gesture so fluid it was as if the terrifying display had never happened.
Without a second glance at the officer who had crumpled to the pavement, he turned his attention back to Elizabeth.
"And you?" His tone was unreadable, as if inquiring about a trivial matter. "What were you doing out here instead of at home?"
Elizabeth met his gaze, her expression placid. "I was out with a friend. We were just passing by when we ran into a bit of an incident."
She gestured vaguely toward Lucy, who was trying to make herself as small as possible.
Jacob's eyes followed her gesture, his glance flicking over Lucy with a detached indifference, as if she were a common stone on the roadside, unworthy of a second thought. His focus returned to Elizabeth's face.
"Take your security with you when you go out," he stated flatly, the words sounding more like a corporate directive than a personal concern. "And the next time an incident like this occurs, handle it cleanly. Don't create more work for the police."
Elizabeth inclined her head, offering a polite, practiced smile. "Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Smith. I'll be more careful."
The formal address, that detached Mr. Smith paired with her rote gratitude, sent a flicker of sharp annoyance through Jacob's eyes.
He let out a cold scoff, his tone abruptly shifting to something harsh and biting. "Don't thank me. You're my fiancée. Having you targeted for assassination on a public street is an embarrassment. Protecting yourself is a matter of protecting the Smith family's reputation. Do you understand?"
The smile on Elizabeth's face didn't waver; if anything, it grew more serene, more compliant. "Yes, I understand," she said, her voice smooth. "I will be very careful to uphold the reputation of the Smith family."
Her submissive posture, this flawless performance of acquiescence, only seemed to stoke the nameless fire burning in his gut.
He felt as though he'd thrown a punch into a bale of cotton, a frustrating, suffocating impact that yielded nothing.
He turned away from her, striding back toward his car without another look. "I have business to attend to. Clean this up yourself."
The black sedan sped away, leaving a strange, unnerving silence in its wake.
It wasn't until the car's taillights had completely vanished that Lucy, still on the ground, seemed to come back to life, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
She scrambled on her hands and knees toward Elizabeth, her face a mixture of post-traumatic fear and a star-struck daze.
"Ms. Windsor, was that your brother?" Lucy whispered, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and admiration. "He's so handsome! And that presence… it's more intense than any movie star!"
Elizabeth looked down at her, the polite smile on her lips slowly morphing into something more knowing, more playful. She shook her head gently. "No, he's not my brother."
"Oh? Then who…?" Lucy asked, confused.
"He's my fiancé," Elizabeth articulated each word with perfect clarity.
Lucy froze for a beat, her immediate reaction one of disbelief. "Your fiancé? I thought your fiancé was Mr. Smith."
The man in her mind was the one from Hillside Manor—the gentle, attentive, but ultimately mediocre lover.
"That's right," Elizabeth said, her gaze steady. "The man you just saw is Jacob Smith."
The expression on Lucy's face froze, her eyes widening by degrees.
It was as if a set of rusted gears had been forced into motion, her scrambled thoughts beginning to grind and turn, connecting the dots.
The man from moments ago—cold, dominant, his beauty almost predatory—had a gaze that made her feel like prey, freezing the very air in her lungs. The sheer pressure and dangerous aura of a top-tier predator was a world away from the "Mr. Smith" she remembered, the one with the gentle smile, the measured speech, the man who seemed to lack stamina in bed.
A terrible and absurd truth crashed over her like a bucket of ice water.
She had been played.
The Mr. Smith at Hillside Manor, the one who had kept her with an allowance and the illusion of status, the man she had slept with, was not the real Jacob Smith. He was an impostor.
A wave of profound humiliation and terror washed over Lucy, nearly making her collapse. Seeing Elizabeth begin to walk away, she lunged forward, grabbing the hem of her pants, her voice cracking with desperation and tears. "Ms. Windsor! Ms. Windsor, please, help me! I know I was wrong! That liar… he'll kill me to keep me quiet! Please, save me! I'll tell you everything! I'll tell you everything I know!"
Elizabeth's steps faltered. She glanced down at the pathetic figure clinging to her leg.
Lucy was now a valuable source of information, but she was also a dangerous liability.
Keeping her alive could unearth the secrets of Hillside Manor and the identity of the impostor, but it could also attract more assassins and complications.
"Lynx," Elizabeth murmured into her comms device.
Almost as the word left her lips, a nondescript gray van slid silently to the street corner.
The door opened, and a woman in a baseball cap stepped out, moving quickly. It was Lynx.