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This Just Went From Bad To Catastrophic

Hypothetical Question: How would you choose to dispose of a body in a way that would disgust even the most seasoned forensic expert?

Carina

The police come knocking a day later.

I put on the act, pretending to grieve when they announce my father's death with heartfelt apologies.

An investigation gets opened into his murder which leads to many conversations with detectives in the weeks after.

“And you have no idea who might have wanted to harm your father?”

The detective’s voice is steady, probing, but there's a hint of suspicion beneath it. A quiet, deliberate challenge.

“No,” I reply, forcing the practiced lie past my lips, my tone innocent, my face a picture of confusion. The perfect mask.

“Lucian Moretti, he’s your fiancé?” He looks up from his notes, eyeing me closely.

The name twists inside me like a blade. I force my fingers to remain still in my lap. “Was,” I say the word through gritted teeth, the bitterness of it seeping out despite my best efforts to remain composed.

He watches me too closely. “Have you heard from him recently?”

“Not since we broke things off,” I lie, each word dripping with false sincerity.

The detective leans back slightly, studying me. Calculating. “And when exactly was that?”

I tilt my head, pretending to think, letting the silence stretch out before I respond. “About two weeks ago.” I glance down at my hands in my lap, keeping my face carefully neutral.

“Around the same time your father was murdered.”

I let out a sharp, fractured breath. My hand flies to my chest, just a little too dramatic but not enough to be suspicious. My eyes glisten, and a single tear slips down my cheek. “You don’t think Lucian—” I inhale shakily. “You don’t think he did this, do you?” My voice wavers, the panic feigned—and yet, somehow, real.

“No…” The detective hesitates, his brow furrowing as he watches my reaction. “It looks like a robbery gone wrong, but it wouldn’t hurt to look into that angle. Lucian’s been… elusive, to say the least.”

He doesn’t believe me. Not completely.

I twist my hands together in my lap, playing the grieving, helpless daughter to perfection. “I hope you catch whoever did this,” I say softly, my voice trembling with the right amount of distress.

“We will, Naomi,” he reassures me, his hand resting on mine for just a second too long, a small gesture meant to comfort. “Don’t worry.”

It takes everything in me not to flinch at the name.

After my father’s announcement to the world of my return I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide much longer.

But I’m not her.

Even if the world thinks I am.

I nod, offering him a watery smile as he pulls his hand away. He and his partner exchange a quick look before excusing themselves, leaving me alone in the silence of the room.

As the door clicks shut behind them, I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, the weight of the performance lifting slightly.

“How’d it go, Princess?” Nate asks, his voice low as he walks into the room and drops down onto the sofa next to me, throwing one arm around the back of the couch casually.

“I think they believed me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Good,” he replies, satisfaction tugging the corners of his mouth up. “What do—”

“Nate!”

The door slams open, and Evelyn, Nate’s mother, stumbles in, her face pale and twisted with panic. Kai stands behind her in the doorway, eyes wide. He must have been the one to let her in. Her usually pristine composure is shattered, and she doesn’t even glance at me before collapsing into Nate’s arms.

“They found your father’s body,” she gasps, her voice cracking with the weight of the words. Her whole frame trembles as she clutches him, her sobs raw and jagged.

The air in the room drops ten degrees.

I freeze.

The blood drains from my face, and a wave of nausea clenches my stomach.

No.

No, no, no.

My chest tightens as the shock ripples through me, but I force myself to stay calm.

Nate stiffens, his hands gripping his mother’s shoulders tightly, his jaw set like stone. “What?” he demands, his voice low and sharp, a deadly edge creeping in.

Evelyn’s entire frame shakes as she grips him tighter. “They found parts of him,” she sobs, her words tumbling out in gasps.

The words punch through me. I go still.

“In the Thames,” she sobs, barely able to get the words out. “Chopped up and scattered. They’re saying it’s foul play.” She breaks down again, shaking violently against him.

I don’t have to look at Nate to feel his fury. The heat of his gaze sears through me, and when I finally meet his eyes, my breath hitches. His expression hardens into something cold, calculating—a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Fuck.

This just went from bad to catastrophic.

Nate

“You were supposed to take care of it!” I snarl, my voice a low, vicious growl that cuts through the air like a blade.

“I did!” Kai snaps, his usual calm cracking under pressure. “I swear, I did! I weighted him—double-checked everything!”

“Then why the fuck did they find him in the Thames?” My voice rises, fury bubbling over as I pace in tight, frantic circles. My hands clench and unclench, itching to break something, my pulse a violent thrum beneath my skin.

Kai’s face pales, but he holds his ground. “This has never happened before. Never. I don’t know how—”

“Well, they fucking did! And now we have detectives breathing down our necks, not to mention my mother. ”

Kai throws up his hands, his frustration matching mine. “I don’t control the fucking currents, Nate! You think I wanted this to happen?”

“Stop!”

Carina’s voice cuts through the rising storm, quiet but firm. We both freeze, turning to her. She’s perched on the couch, knuckles white as she grips the cushions like the only thing holding herself together.

Her voice softens, but there’s an edge of steel beneath the surface. “Do we know how they found him? Is there any chance they’ve connected it to us?”

I rake a hand through my hair, trying to claw back some semblance of control. “Piece of him washed up on the south bank. A fucking dog walker found it.”

“Shit.” Kai exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. He looks rattled.

The weight of it presses down on the room, thick and suffocating. Carina swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away. She’s holding it together better than I expected.

For now.

The next few days are full of panic, tension, and damage control.

Kai spends hours wiping anything that could lead back to us—phone records, security footage, anything digital—but even he can’t shake the unease.

“There’s no guarantee this’ll hold,” he mutters, fingers flying across his laptop. “If they dig deep enough—”

“They won’t,” I snap. “Just focus.”

Meanwhile, Carina and I rehearse her alibi over and over, until she can recite every detail without a single slip. But even as she nails it, I see the strain in her eyes, the exhaustion pulling at her edges.

She’s quieter than ever.

No hypothetical questions. No teasing jokes.

She’s pulling away. I can feel it.

But I don’t know how to stop it.

Then the cops come knocking.

Detective Harris studies me from across the table, his gaze steady, unblinking. “Funny thing about grief,” he muses, tapping his pen against his notepad. “Some people cry. Others get quiet. You?” He tilts his head. “You seem... prepared.”

I meet his stare, keeping my expression neutral. “Guess we all grieve differently.”

Across the room, Carina plays the grieving daughter-in-law to perfection—voice trembling just enough, eyes red but not too red. Mum’s raw, real grief does the rest of the work for us.

Every second stretches too long. Every question feels like a trap. But in the end, they leave.

Kai pulls me aside hours later, his face tight but relieved. “The misdirection is in place. The trail’s cold. For now, they’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“For now,” I echo, voice flat. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

Carina steps closer, her voice quiet. “Are we in the clear?”

I glance at her, at the exhaustion in her face, and shake my head. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. But we bought ourselves time.”

She nods, her shoulders straightening, though I can see the weight she’s carrying.

And as I look at her, at Kai, at the mess we’re in, I know one thing for certain. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

But for right now, I can breathe. At least where this is concerned.

Though, now I have other issues to worry about.

It’s time to focus on Carina.

She regained some of her fire during the last act of vengeance, a spark that reminded me of the girl she once was. But once it was all over—once the bloodshed and rage faded—she fell apart.

It’s like the weight of everything—the pain, the fear, the years of torment—finally caught up to her. The past sixteen years of her life are crushing her, and she doesn’t know how to rise above it. Watching her struggle like this... it’s breaking something inside me.

I know she’s strong. But strength doesn’t matter when you’re drowning.

And right now, I can see it—Carina is sinking. Fast.

If I don’t pull her out, she won’t survive this.

Not again.