A Heart in Jeopardy

Chapter 3: The Unraveling

Vincent stormed back into the interrogation room, the door slamming shut behind him with a sharp click. The air in the room shifted charged, electric, tense.

He walked across the floor in calculated strides, his jaw clenched and expression unreadable. Seraphina sat where he had left her, hands resting in her lap, posture straight but undeniably tired. The soft hum of the overhead light flickered faintly, casting pale shadows across her delicate features.

"Hope you didn't mind me wasting your precious time," Vincent said dryly, his voice dipped in sarcasm as he circled the table and sat across from her. "Turns out, I found something that might make this conversation a little more... interesting."

Seraphina didn't respond. She simply looked at him—quietly, steadily, a trace of exhaustion pulling at the corners of her eyes.

Vincent leaned back in his chair and gestured toward the observation window. "Reyes," he barked, "bring in the laptop."

Within seconds, the door opened. Officer Reyes stepped in, placed the laptop before Vincent, and exited without a word. Vincent flipped it open, the screen's light casting a harsh glow against the tension-fueled darkness of the room.

"You might want to pay attention to this," he said, turning the screen toward Seraphina.

The footage began to play.

A dim corridor appeared on screen. Time stamp: 10:11 PM.

Vincent narrowed his eyes. "That's the hallway outside Emily's apartment," he said, tapping the screen with deliberate precision.

"And that—" he paused the footage "—is someone with your height, your build, your hair, your exact outfit from that night... standing at her door. At 10:11."

Seraphina blinked. Her eyes locked on the frozen figure. Her breathing hitched almost imperceptibly.

"You told me," Vincent continued coldly, "that you went downstairs to collect a delivery around 10:10. I cross-checked with the delivery boy. He confirmed it. Said you came down at exactly that time."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes burning into her. "So tell me, how the hell were you in two places at once?"

Seraphina's lips parted slightly. A flicker of confusion, panic, something unspoken, passed across her face. But she didn't speak. She simply stared at the screen.

Vincent narrowed his eyes. "I'm waiting."

"It's not me," she said softly, her voice almost inaudible. "That's not me."

He laughed once, mirthless and biting. "Not you?" His hand slammed against the table, making her flinch. "Then who,Miss Ellsworth ? Your twin? A ghost? You think I'm some kind of idiot?"

Still, she said nothing.

Vincent leaned forward, jaw taut with restrained fury. "Why isn't it you?" he demanded.

Silence.

"I asked you a question," he snapped.

More silence.

The room grew colder. Time stretched thin.

Vincent exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his fingers together before dragging them down his face. He watched her carefully her stillness, her silence, the distant look forming behind her eyes.

She looked paler now. Sweat glistened faintly on her temples. Her shoulders, while still drawn straight, looked tense. Overwound.

He noticed her reach slowly for the glass of water on the table. Her hand trembled slightly. She brought it to her lips and drank all of it. Every last drop.