Two weeks later…
"Okay, let's go over this again," Detective Conan Doyle said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes sharp and unblinking.
I nodded uncomfortably under his continuous stare, shifting in my seat and wringing my hands in my lap.
"You've told me about the man in a hoodie who shot Jasmine just as you entered."
"Yes," I replied softly, avoiding his gaze and staring at a crack in the table.
"Apart from his hoodie and hairstyle, do you know what he looked like? Can we help you draw him?"
"I..." I hesitated, my brow furrowing as I reached up to rub my temples. "I don't know. It's blurry."
"Look," Axel said, placing a protective hand on my shoulder, his jaw tightening. "My wife has just recovered from the biggest shock of her life. Take it easy with her."
"I'm not complaining, Axel," the detective replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I don't know if this would be helpful, but he was Jasmine's boyfriend. He once said something about her being indebted to him," Axel added, his fingers unconsciously clenching into fists.
"Jasmine would never ask for money from someone," I shot back, sitting up straighter. "She's doing well herself, and you know she's not from a poor background." My voice cracked slightly.
"I know Jasmine is your best friend," Axel said, folding his arms. "But you can't remember most of what's happened in your life. I'm telling you, that dude visited Jasmine a lot."
My eyes narrowed. "How well do you even know Jasmine? I'm not sure if you two ever even had a proper conversation."
There was a pause before Conan asked, his tone deceptively calm, "Did you have any ill feelings toward Jasmine before she passed?"
"She was my best friend," I answered instantly, my voice rising with emotion.
"You guys didn't fight? You didn't think 'fuck this, we're going down together'?"
My body jerked back in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about, detective?" I asked, my voice laced with shock.
He sighed and shut his notebook with a deliberate snap. Then, slowly, he reached into his coat pocket, took out his phone, and switched it off, placing it face-down on the table.
"Look, Zen. I know and have worked with your father for a while. That's why I've been lenient and waiting for you to come clean. Tell me the truth... what really happened after you left the wedding venue?"
"Conan," Axel interjected again, stepping closer, his voice firm. "She's still recovering. Her memories aren't clear. Don't you get it?"
But Conan waved him off, his eyes locked on me.
"Tell me the truth, Zendaya. That's the only way I'm going to help you."
I swallowed hard, my hands trembling now. I opened my mouth, then closed it, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm trying to remember but… I'm sure I saw his face. I just can't remember…"
"You shot Jasmine, right?" Conan said quietly.
I shot up from my seat, knocking it back slightly. "What the fuck?" My voice trembled with disbelief and rage.
"Your fucking fingerprints are on the gun found at the scene," he said bluntly. "Look, Zen, were you angry with her? For not showing up at your wedding? Did you kill her out of rage?"
My knees buckled and I gripped the edge of the table for support. "Oh my God," I whispered. My voice was shaky, and my eyes blurred with tears. "I would never hurt Jasmine. I'd never have done that."
Detective Conan leaned back in his chair, with arms crossed, his eyes never leaving me.
"Then help me understand, Zen. Because nothing is adding up. No forced entry on the house. No signs of a struggle on your body but on that of the victim. And your prints on the murder weapon."
"I don't know how they got there," I whispered, my fingers digging into the table edge. "I—I didn't even touch the gun… God, this must be a set-up."
"You don't still remember?" he asked, voice low and expectant.
Axel stepped forward again, his body rigid. "That's enough, Conan. She's not a criminal, she's a victim. You're treating her like she pulled the damn trigger."
"I'm treating her like the only living witness with amnesia and no alibi," Conan snapped, standing now, the chair scraping against the floor. "You think this is easy for me? I knew Jasmine. I owe her justice. She didn't deserve that."
"I want justice too," I said, tears sliding down my cheeks. "She was the closest thing I had to a sister."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Conan's expression softened slightly, the hardness in his eyes dimming. He exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it with his fingers.
"There's a lot we still don't know," he muttered. "But until we do, you don't leave the city. And if you remember anything—anything at all—you come straight to me. Understand? I will decide whether it's helpful or not."
I nodded mutely, wiping at my face with the sleeve of my sweater. Axel wrapped his arm around me, steadying me as my knees wobbled.
As Conan turned to leave, he paused at the door and shot me a dangerous glare. Then he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Axel helped me to the couch, lowering me gently as I collapsed into it, exhausted. He knelt in front of me, brushing the hair out of my face.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"I don't know," I admitted. "None of this makes sense, Axel. I feel like I'm losing my mind."
Axel's thumb brushed under my eye, wiping away a tear. "You're not crazy, Zen. You're traumatized. And they're using that against you."
I looked at him, my chest tightening. "But what if Conan's right? What if I really did… what if I hurt her?"
"No," he said sharply, his voice suddenly firm. "Don't you dare say that. You're not capable of that, and you know it."
He stood up, pacing the room like a caged animal. His hands curled into fists again. "You said something earlier about the man in the hoodie. You said he didn't feel like a stranger."
I blinked at him, slowly nodding. "Yeah. I don't know how, but… it was like I'd seen him before."
Axel exhaled heavily and sat beside me again. His eyes were dark with an intensity I hadn't seen before. "There's something I didn't tell the detective. I didn't want to throw fuel on the fire. But I think I know who exactly fits that description."
I tensed. "Who?"
"Luca Vitale."
"Who is he?" I asked, throat dry.
"A monster," Axel said bitterly. "He's not just a thug, Zen. He's a mafia lord. His father ran half the city before disappearing. Now Luca controls everything—including the cops, the politicians, maybe even Conan."
"What?"
Axel nodded solemnly. "Jasmine got involved with him. I warned her to stay away, but she was stubborn. She thought she could handle him. Said he was helping her with something. But I think she got in too deep."
I stared at him, my mind spinning. But I still don't understand when exactly he became very close to Jasmine. "You think he killed her?"
"Not personally," Axel said. "But you saw the shooter, didn't you? And who else would want to frame you for it?"
My fingers curled into the fabric of the couch. "But why me?"
"Because you're the only one Jasmine trusted. And you saw his face. You'd probably have known the reason or secret Jasmine died," Axel said. "She probably told you something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe you don't remember it yet—but they're making sure you don't get the chance."
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. "This can't be real."
Axel leaned in, gripping my shoulders gently but firmly. "You want to clear your name? Get justice for Jasmine? Then look Luca Vitale in the eye and ask him why she died. Get his confession and make sure Jasmine gets the justice she deserves."
"That's insane. Going to him is suicidal. That asshole shot me!"
"Is it? The police aren't going to help you. Conan's already made up his mind. You think he's going to go after Luca when his entire department's probably on Luca's payroll?"
I hesitated, trembling. "I… I don't know what to do."
"If I were you, I'd be on my way to Riverside Estate with a gun to get that asshole to confess!" he said and
paced around with rage.
He was constantly stealing glances at me like he wanted me to take the bait.
And fuck it. I did.