CHAPTER 169: THE INTERROGATION

Jean stepped into the cold marble-floored station. Logan was beside her, protective, silent... but his presence felt like armor.

At the front desk, officers directed them to wait in the lounge until each was called in. Jean’s heart thudded as her eyes landed on them.

Derek Adams. Darla Adams. Alex Adams. The people who should have protected her. The people who destroyed her.

Alex leaned lazily against the wall, his usual smug expression buried beneath a careful mask of indifference. But when his eyes flickered up and met Jean’s, a faint smirk twitched on his lips. One only she saw.

Derek was in a quiet argument with an officer... clearly agitated. Darla sat stiffly, like a statue carved from ice, her lips pressed in a thin line.

They looked up when Morris Adams arrived. The grief on his face was a haunting thing. He had aged overnight. His shoulders slumped like a man walking toward his own funeral.

When his eyes fell on Jean, they blazed with something bitter.

"You," he hissed, his voice sharp but low.

Logan stepped forward, instantly protective. "Back off."

But Jean held her hand out, stopping him. Her voice didn’t rise. "I loved Emma. She was my family more than any of you ever were. I would have died to protect her."

Derek scoffed, standing. "Don’t pretend like you’re innocent, Jean. You’ve been a liability since the day you were born."

That made heads turn... even the officers by the desk raised their brows. Logan clenched his fists, but Jean didn’t flinch.

"What does that mean?" Jean asked, her voice cold and steady. "Since the day I was born?"

Derek said nothing. Darla reached for his sleeve, as if to stop him from saying more.

But the air had shifted.

One of the detectives called out, "We’ll begin the interviews now. Miss Adams?"

"It’s Mrs. Kingsley!" Jean exhaled and stepped forward, not before she turned her head slightly and met Alex’s eyes.

He smiled, that snake of a man. As if daring her to say one wrong word.

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The room was small. Clinical. A single desk separated her from the two detectives... one looked tired, the other eager. They offered her water. She refused. Her palms rested on her lap, tense but composed.

"Miss Adams... I mean Mrs. Kingsley," the younger detective began, "We know you were close to Emma. Can you tell us what you saw before the incident?"

Jean kept her gaze steady. "I visited her in the morning. She was unconscious but stable. I spoke to her... held her hand. She looked like she was fighting to come back."

"And later? Did she mention anything unusual recently? Anyone following her? Any threats?"

Jean hesitated. Her mind screamed Tyler could be behind this. But her lips said, "She didn’t say anything to me, she was unconscious."

"Nothing? Not even about family tensions?"

Jean’s heart twisted. "No. But I believe someone tried to silence her."

The older detective scribbled something. "Any idea who?"

Jean’s throat tightened. "If I did, would I be sitting here or dragging them in myself?"

There was a beat of silence. Then, the younger detective leaned forward. "We’re not dismissing you as a suspect, Jean. You should know that. There are... complicated layers in your family."

Jean’s expression darkened. "You don’t know half of it."

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Logan stood outside the room, arms folded, pacing a slow line across the hallway. His jaw clenched every time someone walked by in uniform. He hated police stations. Hated the way they made Jean shrink into silence.

Henry approached, holding two coffees. "She’ll be fine. She’s strong."

Logan took the cup but didn’t drink. "That’s the problem. She’s always had to be strong. Even when she shouldn’t."

Henry gave him a quiet look. "And you still feel like you can’t reach her?"

Logan sighed, eyes fixed on the door. "She says she doesn’t need me, but I see her eyes every time she’s scared. She does need me. She just doesn’t believe she deserves it."

Henry stayed silent, letting that hang in the air. Logan ran a hand through his hair. His phone buzzed... Hannah, checking in. He typed a quick reply, then froze when he heard shouting from another room.

Derek.

"Don’t you dare put this on my son!"

"We’re not accusing him, Mr. Adams..."

"You think a car crash means attempted murder?"

Logan’s fists clenched. They’re scared. That means they’re hiding something.

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"Last question," the older detective said. "Do you believe someone inside your family could be involved in this?"

Jean didn’t hesitate this time. "Yes."

Their pens stopped.

Jean leaned forward, her voice low and deliberate. "You’re digging through dirt now. Just be careful. You might uncover corpses. But I know already... you won’t do a damn thing against them."

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Henry sat upright across the table, back straight, voice calm. Not out of confidence... but sheer control. Years of being Logan Kingsley’s right hand man had taught him how to keep his nerves buried under layers of composure.

Detective Maira, a sharp-eyed woman in her forties, clicked her pen and leaned forward.

"You were the last known person to see Miss Emma Adams before the accident?"

"Yes," Henry replied. "I dropped her off at her father’s house the night we returned from the bidding ceremony."

"What time?"

"Close to midnight. Maybe a little before. She said she was jet-lagged, wanted to rest."

Detective Maira scribbled a note. "And you didn’t go in?"

"No. She told me she’d be fine. I saw the house was well-lit, and I remember cars outside. Expensive ones. Like there were... guests. Probably something formal."

"Did you see who they were?"

Henry shook his head. "No. I left right after I saw the butler open the door."

"And you’re certain she went inside?"

"I waited until she walked in." Henry’s voice dipped a little, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I didn’t think I needed to do more than that. She looked tired. Not afraid."

There was a pause. Then Maira pressed, "Did she seem distressed? Like she was hiding something?"