illusion is the art of the pretense

11:11 Mirror HourI will remember this moment for the rest of my life. It was an unusual hour that foretold the end. On that day, my heart stopped beating, and I experienced a tetanic crisis as I saw two men in blue uniforms approaching from a distance. You can probably guess who I'm talking about—the police, of course.My arrest was a true humiliation. Imagine the mix of sadness, grief, and anger I felt at that moment. What I didn't mention earlier was that I was at work when it happened. I work as an administrative assistant, and on that fateful day, I was dealing with a customer complaint.To paint a picture of me: I have an oval face, almond-shaped hazel eyes, a sun-kissed complexion, a heart-shaped mouth, a long nose, and blond hair like ripe wheat.At 10:30 AM, with handcuffs on, the two men led me to a blue PEUGEOT 107 TDI car.

"Who are you? What are you doing?" I asked, fear gripping me.Throughout the journey, I wondered why I was being arrested. Why me?Upon arrival, I found myself in a dimly lit room with tinted windows.Suddenly, a man in his forties, dressed in a black suit and a blue shirt, looked at me with a pen in hand. He tapped it impatiently.Again, I had no idea why.Okay, I admit he was handsome—blue eyes, jet-black hair, a prominent nose, a well-groomed beard, and a clear forehead. But I wasn't focused on his looks; I saw his badge.

"Christelle Pontel, you are accused of two crimes—the Alliano brothers' murders. Does that ring a bell?"

According to the law, you have the right to an attorney, but given the severity of the charges against you, I doubt it will be of much use!"

I couldn't believe it; my face had betrayed me. My eyelids lifted, and my mouth hung open in astonishment.

The man facing me was Inspector Arnaud Moreau.As he spoke, I observed the room: a steel desk, a desk lamp, and two black chairs.

"Yes, listen, I don't know why you've arrested me; it's a misunderstanding," I said.

"Not at all," he retorted. "Five charges are filed against you."

"Five?" I responded, taken aback.

"Yes, you're accused of murdering the Alliano brothers."

Stunned by what I heard, I remained speechless.

"Do the Alliano brothers mean anything to you? They were well-respected men in the village. They were killed in their home on April 24th at 8:00 PM. The bodies were examined by Dr. ABRAVOSHE, the coroner," he informed me.I couldn't grasp what was happening or the impact it would have.

"Do I have the right to an attorney?" I asked.

"Of course!" he replied. "Allow me to introduce Attorney Amy Dejano."

A young woman entered the room, dressed in a pale pink suit, her layered haircut exuding a femme fatale vibe. She was tall and nonchalant.Amy had black eyes, a button nose, a broad forehead, plump lips, and radiant skin.

"Madam," she said, her tone ironic, "you're not in a position to say anything. Fortunately, the evidence against you is deemed insufficient."

"Where were you on the night of April 24th?" she asked.

"At... at home. My father can vouch for me."

As the interrogation concluded, the inspector and the lawyer informed me of my next destination—a temporary residence.

"Detention center?" I exclaimed. What a nightmare.

Two hours later, after being questioned, I was directed to the detention center. It's a place where prisoners are sentenced to less than a year.Handcuffed like a criminal and facing a wire fence, a woman asked me to provide her with all my valuable belongings. She then placed everything in some kind of tray and stored it under my name