Chapter 64

She thought it was a joke. She thought what I went through was a joke. So why wasn't she laughing?

"Why aren't you laughing?" I demanded, my voice sharp and unyielding.

Her eyes widened at my unexpected question. "Why would I laugh?" she asked nervously, as if I were insane.

"You laughed. Do you think this situation is funny? Do you think my abduction was a joke?" My voice grew fiercer with each word, fueled by a rising tide of anger.

Fear was all over her face, but I knew it was an act.

"Zendaya, please," someone pleaded, their voice trembling.

"Let her go," another voice chimed in, desperate.

"She's clearly innocent," another added, trying to reason.

Innocent. There's no such thing as innocence. She was involved somehow. She had always been involved when it came to matters concerning me.

"Innocent?" I spat, my anger boiling over.

"You think she's innocent? She's anything but. She's always been a part of this, always lurking in the shadows, pulling strings." I tightened my grip, my fury palpable. "No one who truly understands what I went through would dare to mock it. She's hiding something, and I won't stop until I uncover the truth.

"I'm not lying," she yelled.

I knew I looked completely insane, but I didn't care.

"Zendaya," Rome called, his voice laced with concern.

I didn't listen. My grip tightened even more on her wrist, and I twisted until we all heard the sickening sound of dislocation. She cried out in pain, but I didn't release her.

"Why didn't you report your suspicions?" I demanded it again.

"I... I," she stammered.

I pressed harder, and she started shivering from the pain.

"My family was targeted by them. I was told if I had spoken, they would have taken my family away. I had to protect them," she explained, tears streaming down her face.

I should have felt pity, right? Why didn't I feel any pity? I released her hand, and she cradled it to her chest.

"Tell me everything!" I commanded, my voice filled with unrelenting fury.

"Please, I'll tell you what you want to know. Let me go," she pleaded, her voice trembling, the words barely a whisper. Her desperation was visible, her eyes wide with fear and glistening with unshed tears.

Her voice was breaking and her tone seemed sympathetic, but I didn't feel sorry for her. She had caused me pain again and again, forgive me for lacking any compassion for such a person. My grip on her wrist was firm, her skin cold and clammy beneath my fingers. I could feel the bones shift slightly under the pressure, but I held on, my resolve steeled by the memories of past torments.

Looking at the crowd, people were looking at her with sympathy. A look I had never gotten even though I have suffered again and again. It only served to stock fuel on the fire, igniting a blaze of anger within me. They didn't know what she was capable of, the depths of her cruelty masked by that pitiful facade.

I released my hold on her wrist and moved back to Rome's side. His presence was a constant, a reassuring anchor in the storm of emotions swirling within me. Rome stood tall, his dark eyes never leaving her, a commanding force that brooked no defiance.

"Tell us what it is that you are protecting," Rome commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rumble that cut through the tension like a knife. The room fell silent, the collective breath of the crowd held in anticipation.

She hesitated, glancing around as if seeking an escape, but there was none. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she looked back at us, her expression a mix of resignation and defiance. The truth was on the brink, and we were ready to seize it, no matter the cost.

"After I learned of their plan, they discovered I had known their identity. So I locked myself in my room, buying some time so that I could leave. But on the third day, I received a picture of my mother blindfolded and a threat followed the picture," she paused, her voice shaking with the weight of the memory. "She's my mother, my parent. How could I let her suffer for my noisiness? So I kept my mouth shut."

The room was eerily silent, the gravity of her words settling over the gathered crowd. The flickering light cast long shadows, highlighting the raw emotion on her face.

"So you have the picture and the threat?" asked Mrs. Cole, her tone brisk but not unkind. Her sharp eyes bore into the woman, searching for any sign of deceit.

My mother must have sensed something was not right. But without evidence, all we had were baseless accusations. I glanced at her, her composed exterior masking the turmoil I knew she felt inside. She had always been the pillar of strength in our family, and this situation was no exception.

"Yes, let me show you," Essie said, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was some rustling as she searched for her phone, her hands trembling slightly. The crowd watched with bated breath, the tension filled the hall. Finally, she found it and unlocked her phone, the screen casting a faint glow on her face as she scrolled through her gallery. She rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate, and walked over to us.

My heart jumped from my chest when I saw the image on her screen. It was my former mother, blindfolded. From the angle of the shot, it was clear she had been crying, her face red and streaked with tears. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state hit me like a punch to the gut, a wave of anger and sorrow crashing over me.

The room seemed to close in around me, the edges of my vision blurring as I stared at the image. The crowd murmured in shock, the reality of the situation sinking in. This was no longer a matter of suspicion or conjecture; it was a stark, undeniable truth.

Mrs. Cole took the phone from Essie's trembling hands, her expression hardening as she examined the picture. She glanced at me, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and sympathy. The evidence we needed was finally in our hands, but at what cost?

Essie stood before us, her shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. She had been driven to silence by fear, forced to protect her mother at the expense of her own safety. And now, as the truth lay bare, I couldn't help but feel a pang of compassion for her plight. Despite the pain she had caused me, her actions were those of a desperate daughter trying to save her mother.

Rome stepped forward, his presence commanding as ever. "This changes everything," he said, his voice steady. "It seems someone has been lying to us!"