Page 39

Valeria

T he last night was one giant act of escaping Chester. When we got home, he cooked dinner while I did homework with Zara. She didn't need my help, but I just wanted to avoid him.

After the meal, we talked about her upcoming math competition. Chester was mainly on his phone, not paying attention to Zara's excitement, but I listened to her every word. I couldn't be prouder of her. In her seven years, she competed with nine and ten-year-old kids. She was incredible.

I put her to sleep at nine, staying in her room an hour longer.

Chester left somewhere while I was with her, giving me hope he wouldn’t return until the next morning, but he was back shortly after his departure.

I took a quick shower, checking my phone, when he opened the door to the bedroom.

My eyes widened in surprise because once he left, he had never returned earlier than the following day.

I managed to ditch his every attempt to be intimate successfully.

My stomach was in cramps, and my body was in a fight mode when I felt his hands on me.

I pretended to be asleep, not moving and holding my breath so as not to give him any hint that I knew exactly what he wanted.

It was torturous to feel his touches. They burned my skin like a hot iron .

My resilience to fake that our relationship was okay crumbled like a house of cards when I comprehended the hard truth. I wasn't able to pretend to have feelings for my husband. My heart, mind, and body belonged to another.

If I wanted to admit it or not, Zefarin was deeply engraved in my bones.

His possessiveness coursed through my veins, chaining me to him.

His obsession with me poisoned my system and restrained any healthy thinking.

Whoever he was, he owned me. I realized it the moment Chester touched me.

It felt wrong. It was cheating. Nothing on me or in me was his anymore.

I spent half the night thinking about all the real and unreal possibilities that could happen in my life. I dreamed about Zefarin taking off his mask and showing me his face. I wished to talk to him without the makeup. I wanted to understand why all this hiding was needed.

Sleep came unexpectedly, and I woke up with a jolt when the alarm clock cut through the room's silence. Chester cursed under his breath, covering his head with a blanket. I exhaled deeply, calling it a win to manage to spend the night beside him without a fight.

I sat on the bed, putting on fluffy slippers. My mind was preoccupied with the options for breakfast when I walked toward the window and opened the heavy curtains.

At first, I didn't understand what my eyes landed on.

It felt like the entire world disappeared, and my gaze zoomed on the monstrosity before me.

As if my brain went through a hard reset, my body froze, and a gut-wrenching shriek flew from my mouth.

Probably from the balcony of the apartment above ours hung the mutilated, bloody body of George.

His empty eyes were frozen in fright. His mouth was wide open, showing that his tongue was missing, and his chin and chest were covered with dark, thick blood that soaked into his shirt.

His face was bruised. He was severely beaten, and he had blade marks on his arms. The rope was wrapped around his fat neck, and his limp body moved slightly from side to side.

It was the scariest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

"What's going on?" Chester yelled, jumping from the bed and stopping beside me. "Oh, fuck!"

I covered my mouth with my hand, expecting to throw up in any second. My entire body shook violently, and my empty stomach quivered. I was horrified and frightened to the bones .

"Mommy?" Zara's soft voice cut through my terrified brain, and I whipped my head toward her. Chester instantly pulled the curtains to hide the hanging dread from her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sweetie." I faked a smile, wriggling my fingers to get rid of the tremor in my hands. "Dad just jumped on me from behind the closet. I almost had a heart attack."

I could see she didn't believe me. Her curious eyes drifted between her parents, but she didn't comment on my statement. She shrugged, leaving for the bathroom, and I turned toward my husband, who was clearly shaken by what we saw.

"We have to call the police," I whispered, inhaling a shaky breath. My heart almost collapsed from the shock I suffered.

"They're already here," Chester replied, peeking outside. He was pale like snow, and his hand trembled. "What the fuck is this?" he ground out, moving his head from side to side in evident disbelief. His gaze found mine, and I noticed fear in his hazel eyes. "He works for your boss, right?"

"Worked," I corrected him, blinking rapidly. The conversation with Zyon about George was on repeat in my head, but I couldn’t remember if George worked for the Zhumagulovs. "And I have no idea about his ties with Zyon."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Chester hid his face behind his palms, his shoulders shaking. "It's Malin's handwriting," he mumbled. "They know."

"What?" I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly, and the knock on the door cut off his response. I grabbed a sweater, pulled it over my head to cover my nightgown, and walked behind Chester. He opened the door, welcoming two police officers.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Kellerman. My name is Officer Clark; this is Officer Williams. Can we talk?"

I scanned two men who were of similar height and weight. They were dressed in uniforms, and their serious expressions gave me chills.

"Of course." Chester nodded, motioning to the living room. I felt uncomfortable with my naked legs, and my husband was only in a white shirt and pajamas, but the officers didn't seem to mind .

"Mommy? What is happening?" Zara stuck her head out the bathroom door, staring wide-eyed at the police officers. "I didn't steal the chocolate bars."

"Oh." A nervous giggle left my lips, and I crouched before her. "They're not here because of the chocolate. They need to talk to us. I'll explain everything later, okay?" I brushed her hair behind her ears, trying to sound calm. "Wait in your room. I'll join you as soon as possible."

"Okay, Mommy." She ran away, and I joined the men in the living room.

Chester nervously bounced on his feet before the couch while the police officers were looking around. Officer Williams took out a tiny white notebook and black pen, wrote down something, and waited for his colleague to stop admiring my collection of porcelain elephants.

"A person from the apartment on the highest floor called the police this morning," Officer Clark started, taking the miniature elephant with a missing ear into his hand. Zara knocked it off when she was four. "Mrs. Shanahan hysterically screamed about a body hanging from the Kellermans’ window."

"He isn’t hanging from our window," Chester barked, more attacking than was necessary.

Officer Clark arched a brow but didn't comment on my husband's tone.

I gulped anxiety down my throat, preparing to answer their questions.

I didn't know who killed George, but I saw him yesterday. Police would fry me for information.

"When we came to the scene, we realized it's not your window from which the poor guy is hanging," Officer Williams added, looking at me. "The body hung from the apartment above, but it was your window he faced. What message does it send, Mr. Kellerman?"

Both officers glared at my husband as if it were him who murdered George. My heart missed a beat, watching them inspecting his nervous movements. Chester was never a good actor. He wasn't able to mask his emotions. When pushed into the corner, he constantly attacked like a rabid animal.

"How the fuck should I know what it means?" he yelled, and I quickly checked the door. Zara didn't need to hear this, but she would listen to everything if her father didn't stop.

"A dead body hangs before your window, Mr. Kellerman," Officer Clark pinpointed the obvious. His voice was soaked with irritation. "It's clearly a message for you. "

"It's not! I don't know him!" Chester objected. "But my wife spoke to him yesterday!"

I stared at my husband, shocked and disgusted at the same time.

I didn't know he saw me with George at the fun fair.

Yet I would've never expected him to throw me to the police because they asked him two unpleasant questions.

It only deepened my frustration with him.

But it also brought an idea to my mind. Chester was petrified and pushed the burden of answering on me to avoid being discovered.

I heard him mumbling something about Malin.

He was deep in some shit which included the Zhumagulovs.

"Is it true, Mrs. Kellerman?" The officers turned to me with surprised expressions, cutting me off from glaring at my husband. "Do you know the victim?"

"Not exactly," I replied, trying to sound confident, but I failed miserably. My voice wavered when an image of a mutilated body appeared before my eyes. "I only know that his name is… was George."

"Did you meet him yesterday?" Officer Clark asked, making notes.

My gaze drifted between him and his partner, but I saw nothing suspicious.

They only did their job, gathering information and stuff, while I expected them to put me behind bars even when I didn't have anything in common with the murder. For some stupid reason, I felt guilty.

"Yes." I slightly nodded, flashing a glance at Chester's pale face. "He stopped by to say hi."

It was the quickest lie my shocked brain was able to come up with. It wasn't right to say it to the police, but my instincts were on alert. I was sure dragging Zyon's name into this would cause a major fuss. Not to mention, I had to avoid my husband thinking that I had an affair with my boss.

"So, you only know his first name, but he stopped by to say hi?" Officer Williams stared at me doubtfully, looking over his partner's shoulder to check his notes.

"It was our second meeting," I clarified quickly. "I met him at work maybe two weeks ago."

"Where do you work, Mrs. Kellerman?" The officer continued, his probing glance making me highly uncomfortable. I wanted to avoid mentioning Zyon's name, but it was impossible. I unintentionally brought it up myself.

"In The Vortex," I answered, feeling an anxiety squeezing my chest .

"In the restaurant?"

"In the underground casino," Chester interjected, selling me out. I would've gladly claimed to work as a waitress, but he wanted them to know I worked for the fearful mob boss. He wished to direct the police's attention to Zhumagulovs.

"Didn't it explode after the attempted attack on Zyon Zhumagulov?" Officer Clark looked at his partner, who shrugged.

"The Balloon Room was destroyed, but everything else works perfectly," Chester enlightened the situation, deepening my suspicion about his intentions.

Another question from the police was interrupted by a hard knock on the front door.

I cringed, feeling unusually jumpy after the events of this morning.

I hurried to the hall, sensing a presence behind me.

Officer Williams followed me, grabbing the knob before I could take it and yanking the door open.

"You should see this," a tall woman, about thirty-five years old with emerald-green hair, said, handing the photo to her colleague. Officer Williams examined it for a second before he showed it to me.

"Do you have any idea what it can mean?" he asked.

I looked at the picture, my stomach turning to knots.

Into George's shirt, a black dahlia was pinned, which I had overlooked before. It was the same as I’d found on the nightstand after Zefarin left.

My heart was seconds from collapsing, and the entire world spun.

Could it be him?

"Mrs. Kellerman? Do you know what this flower means?" the officer asked again, bringing me back to reality. I had to give him something. I knew it because Chester wouldn't pass the opportunity to throw me under the bus.

"Two days ago, I found the same flower in my daughter's room," I admitted, repeating the same story I told my husband. "She slept with her father, so I went to her room to rest after I returned from work. When I woke up, the flower was on the bedside table."

"Do you know who placed it there?"

"No." I shook my head resolutely, holding the officer's stern look.

"Did you have an affair, Mrs. Kellerman?" he inquired directly, making me gasp. "An affair which could result in the dead body hanging before your window? "

"My marriage isn't perfect, Officer Williams," I said in a trembling voice, doing my best to force my body to function normally. I didn't want to gain more attention. "But there isn't another man in my life other than my husband."

"You're saying that the flower is a coincidence?" He raised his brows at me in doubt. Obviously, he didn't believe me.

"It's your job to find out what it is," I replied boldly, staring into his green eyes. A smirk twitched his thin lips, and he nodded.

"You're right, Mrs. Kellerman," he agreed, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "But I need to know everything to eliminate a potential threat to Zyon or his brothers." He winked at me and returned to the living room, leaving me stunned in the hall.

At that very moment, I realized it didn't matter what I said. Zyon had the police in his pocket. If something ever pointed at him, the investigation would be directed elsewhere. I didn't know if he killed George, but Chester's fear was palpable, and his words rang in my ears.

“They know, ” he said. But what did they know?