I Called For Help In Cold Room But My Husband Called Me A Liar Chapter 10

I Called For Help In Cold Room But My Husband Called Me A Liar Chapter 10

The examiner drew a shaky breath and went on.

“Our reconstruction shows she remained fully conscious through every step of what he did to her afterward.”

Thomas’s strength crumbled entirely. One fist clutched hard at the front of his dress shirt, his whole frame

folding forward. He gasped for ragged air, and a raw, agonized wail tore out of his throat long minutes later.

I knelt beside him, watching tears stream down his face, and let out a quiet ghostly sigh.

Thomas sat locked in his office for hours. He only emerged, wearing a rumpled suit jacket, once Alex told

him Dallas was being brought in for a second round of interrogation.

Dallas sat chained to the interrogation chair, his gaze fixed unblinking on Thomas. A split second later, he

stretched his lips into a wild, deranged grin.

“Looks like you found her at last. So? You believe me now?”

Thomas’s eyes were bloodshot with fury. He lunged forward, seizing Dallas by the collar and hauling him.

close.

“Cecilia’s identity was sealed under confidentiality-how did you even know about her?!

Who leaked information about her to you?”

Dallas coughed hard, his face flushing from strained breathing. He ignored Thomas’s question entirely and

shifted topics with a mocking laugh.

“Heard you remarried. Why don’t you turn that sharp suspicious eye on the woman sleeping beside you this time, Professor Jonson?”

Thomas frowned, anger flaring across his features. “That’s impossible. Sasha’s gentle, innocent-”

But when he met Dallas’s taunting stare, the words of defense died in his throat.

A memory ambushed him: the audio recording Sasha had played for him three years ago.

In the fake tape, my voice begged Dallas to run away with me, confessing I’d never loved Thomas, that I’d only married him to steal Sasha’s crush.

He’d bought every lie. He’d convinced himself I’d betrayed him, betrayed our marriage, with every fiber of his

being

As his mind spun with regret, the interrogation room door swung open. A young female tech agent rushed in

clutching a laptop, bright with excitement.

“We recovered it! We restored all data from the victim’s phone!”

Alex shot up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor. He took the laptop and pulled up the

recovered files. The room fell dead silent save for the steady click of the mouse.

A video file opened. On screen, Dallas raised a heavy boning knife and hacked downward with brutal force.

Blood splattered across his face, twisting his features into something even more grotesque.

I withdrew into an invisible corner, tucking my head to my chest. That familiar whistling tune from the recording drilled into my skull, sharp as a needle. The pain nearly drove me insane.

At the end of the footage, Dallas wiped the blood off his hands unhurriedly. He picked up the victim’s phone

and sent the video to an unknown number.

“I’ve collected the payment. Consider this a bonus gift.”

The tech agent reclaimed the laptop, tapped a few keys, and rotated the screen back toward the group.

“We traced the number this message was sent to. The owner served a decade-long sentence for attempted spousal murder and was released from prison only this year. This is the suspect’s full profile.”