The room had no windows.
Victoria had noticed that almost immediately, though she couldn't tell how long it had taken her to realize it. Time had blurred into something shapeless, stretching and folding into itself since the moment she had been taken from the cemetery. It could have been hours. It could have been an entire day.
There was no way to tell. So she over thought, even though it was just a few hours into late the morning.
The walls were white, the air faintly stale, and the only thing inside was a single couch pushed against the far end. It looked less like a room meant for living and more like something unfinished… or intentionally stripped of comfort.
She hadn't sat down.
Not once.
Instead, she paced back and forth. Back and forth again.
Her arms wrapped around herself, her fingers gripping tightly into her sleeves as if holding herself together required effort. Every few seconds, her head would turn toward the door, her breath catching slightly, her body tensing before nothing happened again.
Her mother.
Her sister, Mercy.
The thought of them wouldn't leave her alone.
Were they safe? Were they worried?
Had anyone found out?
Was Mercy still… talking? Her chest tightened.
And the blonde man— Her steps faltered for a moment.
Where was he? Had he said something?
Had he run? Or worse… had he already saved himself?
Victoria shut her eyes briefly, exhaling shakily before forcing herself to keep moving.
At least she wasn't in prison. At least she wasn't dead.
That had to mean something. It had to.
The sound of the door unlocking cut through her thoughts.
She froze.
The handle turned, and the door opened slowly. A man stepped in.
Dressed in a dark suit, posture straight with a neutral expression. He gave a small, respectful bow before speaking.
"Our boss is ready to see you now."
Victoria swallowed.
Her throat felt dry, tight, but she nodded anyway. "…Okay." Her voice came out quieter than she expected.
She followed him.
The hallway outside was nothing like the room.
The light. The space. The polished surfaces that reflected soft glows from overhead fixtures. As they walked further, the environment opened up into something even larger—glass walls, high ceilings, a chandelier that hung like a frozen cascade of light.
Money.
And it wasn't subtle — It was everywhere.
Victoria's steps slowed slightly despite herself, her eyes flicking around, trying to take it in, though her mind was too crowded to process it fully.
They didn't stop, making their way up the spiral staircase.
Another long hallway and then finally, a door.
The guard stepped aside, opening it, his hand gesturing inward.
Victoria hesitated for a moment before she stepped in.
The door closed behind her — Inside, the room was quiet.
It was an office; the space was wide, sparkling and majestic with simplistic decor.
Then at the far end, behind a large desk, stood the silver-haired man.
Facing the window with his back to her.
He was speaking on the phone, and though his voice was low the words themselves barely registered in her mind. They blurred into noise, background sound against the storm inside her head.
Currently jobless. Her debts. The rents. Mercy. Her mother. The medical bills. The body. The cemetery. Jailtime…
Everything collided at once, pressing against her thoughts until it became too much to comprehend.
But finally, the man turned. And for a brief, disorienting moment… Her mind went still.
Was this the definition of God's creation?… Her eyes widened slightly. Some men were not meant to looked at just merely...
The thought came uninvited but almost immediately vanished, when reality snapped back into place.
Victoria stepped back instinctively, her posture tightening.
"G-good morning…" She stammered, her voice uneven.
He didn't respond immediately.
His silver hair, fell loosely over half his face, catching the light as he moved to his desk. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, his posture relaxed in a way that didn't match the weight of the situation at all.
His eyes were opaque and dark. Like black crystal stones.
He carefully picked up a file from the wooden surface. "Victoria Solomon," he read out the folder print.
The file dropped lightly onto the desk. "Twenty-three years old. Born and raised here… Hm. You're a local."
His voice was calm, like he was reading something unimportant.
"Completed elementary and high-school education. Dropped out of dentistry college."
He paused, "What a pity."
Victoria stood still, her hands clasped behind her back, her fingers tightening slightly against each other.
"Works multiple jobs. Seven days a week. A bar… a cleaning position, domestic work, waste collection and—."
He paused with crooked brows. "A brothel cleaner… I do not even want to know more about that." He flipped to the next page.
"At least you've never been fired, reported, detained or accused of a criminal file."
His gaze lifted briefly. "Until yesterday."
Her stomach tightened.
He continued. "You're the first daughter. One sibling. Father. Mother… Who is disabled."
He read on. "She was injured in a domestic accident," he made quotes in the air, "Which occurred when you were nineteen. Same year you left college."
Silence lingered for a moment before he closed the file halfway.
"This doesn't read like the profile of a psychopath."
Victoria exahles, shifting weight slightly from one foot to the other, her fingers twitching faintly behind her back.
Her mind flickered—
Is this what judgment feels like? Standing still while someone reads your life like it belongs to them?
She kept her head down and said nothing.
"I don't need to ask what kind of man your father was," he went on. "There are already numerous records of criminal charges against him based on neighbors' complaints and school reports, stemmed from the injuries found on the bodies of you and your sister since elementary to high-school."
Victoria's throat tightened.
Still, she remained silent.
Finally he drew in a soft breath, leaning against his desk as he crossed his arms. "You made a request yesterday."
Her breath caught slightly.
"A very inconvenient one." He let the words settle. "You said you would do anything… in exchange for my tolerance and silence. Do you remember that?"
Victoria nodded faintly as she looked up. "…Yes."
His gaze held hers now. "Good."
Then, casually as he cracked his knuckles. "Not only are you guilty for murder and corpse hiding, but also trespassing, evidence tampering and assisting an ex-convict."
Her head lifted slightly. "E…Ex-convict?"
"Oh," he said, almost lightly. "So you didn't know?"
Know what!? Her head was already thudding enough.
"That's unfortunate." he glanced at her file once more.
Victoria's thoughts spiraled for a second.
So… The blonde man from the bar was a criminal… The realization sat heavily in her chest.
The man in front of her closed the file completely before picking a second folder from the edge of his desk.
It was white and sealed with a gold ribbon. "Let's get down to business then."