Folding For You

Chapter 36: Sabrina

Killian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, his silhouette framed against the city lights glittering below. He looked calm and controlled, but I could feel the tension under the surface.

His hands rested in his suit pockets, a quiet power radiating from him that never failed to draw me in. I sat on the leather couch, my legs crossed, eyes shifting between him and Detective Donovan. There was no room for casual conversation here. This meeting was about purpose and answers.

"I want to do a fresh investigation," Killian said, his voice sharp, commanding tone that made you sit up straighter. "I want you to start over, Donovan. Like the murders of Bronson Kincaid and Liam Kellerman happened yesterday. No assumptions. No old biases. We start fresh, from zero."

Donovan didn't flinch. He'd dealt with Killian enough to know when he was serious, and this was one of those moments. He simply raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly, waiting for the complete picture.

"But," Killian continued, walking over to the coffee table, his movements controlled, deliberate, "I'm not leaving you in the dark. Here's everything we've gathered so far—intel on everyone who worked with my father, business partners, associates, and anyone who might have had a reason to hate the family. It's all here."

I watched Donovan pick up a folder, flipping through the pages meticulously. My mind was racing, trying to connect the dots we might have missed. I shifted forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I observed Donovan. Each name and each record felt like a potential key to unlocking everything.

For the next half hour, the silence was filled only with the sound of pages turning, Donovan's frown deepening as he studied the files. I could feel the weight of the investigation pressing down on all of us, but tonight was different. It felt like we were finally approaching a breakthrough.

Then Donovan paused, rubbing his chin, his expression shifting. "Killian," he said slowly, "something is missing here."

Killian crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing. "What's that?"

"These files cover your father's business associates, enemies, partners... but there's nothing on the household staff. The people inside the mansion. Gardeners, housekeepers, maintenance workers, even the butler. None of them are here. Why?"

My heart skipped a beat. The words hit me like a shock, sending a flood of memories back to the surface. Iyana's voice echoed: ' It's always the one closest to the victim.' My pulse quickened, realisation blooming fast.

Sitting up straighter, I cut through the silence. "Iyana mentioned something... something I didn't take seriously at first, but now it's clicking."

My voice wavered slightly, but I pushed through it, looking between Killian and Donovan. "The killer might be someone close. Really close. Not a business rival or some outsider, but someone in the house. Someone who knew their every move."

Donovan leaned back, his face thoughtful. I could see Killian's jaw tighten, and the gears were already turning in his mind. He was always two steps ahead, but even this angle had caught him off guard.

"If it's someone within the household," Killian said quietly, his voice taking on that harder edge, "then we've been looking in the wrong place all along."

I nodded, my chest tightening. "It makes sense. The staff would've had access, and they would've known schedules and movements. They'd be in the perfect position to strike without raising suspicion. They're invisible."

Killian's gaze shifted to Donovan. "Dig deeper into the staff. I want everyone re-interviewed and scrutinised—every detail. We've missed this before, but not this time."

Donovan was already pulling out his phone and ready to make the calls. The room felt electrified, the investigation turning in a direction none of us had expected. I could feel it in the air—this was it. We were getting closer to the truth, and it was a truth that had been hiding in plain sight all along.

After Detective Donovan left, the weight of the entire conversation seemed to settle heavily on the room. Killian walked over, his usually sharp and commanding presence softened like the fight had drained out of him. He slumped onto the sofa beside me, his exhaustion palpable, and without saying a word, he rested his head in my lap.

My fingers automatically found their way into his hair, brushing through the soft strands, savouring the moment. I could tell he needed this. His shoulders had been tense all day, the burden of the investigation and everything else pressing down on him like a vice. I took my time, giving him a deep head massage, working my fingers down to his neck, trying to knead away the stress.

"So good, Dimples. It's been a hell of a day," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

He let out a soft sigh, and then... nothing. I glanced down and saw his face relaxed, breathing deep and even. He's already in dreamland.

I didn't want to wake him. He needed the rest more than anything right now, so I kept going, massaging his head gently, my movements slowing as the minutes passed. The quiet peace of the moment lulled me, and before I knew it, I was drifting, too. My fingers still tangled in his hair; I closed my eyes, letting his warmth beside me pull me into sleep.

And in that quiet space between us, everything felt calm for the first time in a long time.