Chapter 584

‘1 didn’t poison her Elspeth’s denial was as futile as a turkey claiming it wasn’t Thanksgiving.

Amold ignored her protests, his voice a low and chitting timbre. “At the time, you panicked and fled the scene of the crime, but you forgot to take this vial with you. The victim’s death was ruled a suicide, which made you complacent, and you never returned to check the scene. The Abernathys, superstitious after a death in the room, sealed it off, inadvertently preserving the crime scene for the police. This vial, it replaced the antidepressants on her nightstand. And the residue inside, upon testing, wasn’t Fentanyl, but cyanide.

Cyanide?

The room erupted in shock, that was the king of poisons! Ingesting or even touching it could be fatal!

This woman was sheer malevolence!

Elspeth’s mind was in shambles!

As someone accused of murder, she knew the feeling of being wronged all too well and began to hysterically defend herself, “I didn’t! I didn’t poison Cynthia with that stuff! You’re framing me!”

“Framing you? Then explain why your fingerprints are on the vial?”

Arnold’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, closing in, “Let’s reconstruct the events. You entered the room, concocted a story, and tricked Cynthia into taking the poison, leading to her demise. Fearing exposure, you threw her body off the balcony, crafting a suicide farce!”

Elspeth shook her head in frenzied denial, on the verge of collapse, “No, it wasn’t like that!”

Arnold’s expression shifted, and he stood abruptly, “Elspeth, let me tell you, Cynthia’s body is buried in the East End Cemetery. If her family consents, we can exhume the body for autopsy! Even if all that’s left is a skeleton, modern forensics can still detect whether she died from a fall or was poisoned!”

“No! I didn’t poison her!”

gaunt hands clutched at the bars, her bloodshot eyes wildly shaking the iron cage, “We got into a

spilled

were true; the relentless pursuit was a

she were innocent, no amount of deceit should have made her confess to acts she never

realized too late, stiffening as her

was

word she had uttered was heard clearly

was sepulchral.

shocked and angry gaze pierced Elspeth, as

his trembling fists, feeling every vein freeze, torment spreading from his

“My mother never sought

had pushed Cynthia to her

killed the love of his life, and he, unknowingly, had cherished the

deserved death, but wasn’t he complicit?

hatred as Cynthia’s image haunted him like a

he hadn’t wept at Cynthia’s funeral. Now, he felt

love was worthless. And belated tears,

utter shock, his world upended at

He finally understood-

non–existent; his “crime scene reconstruction” was a farce, a

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Chapter 584

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