He nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his voice steady but hollow. “Not night.” Nancy grinned, walking closer. “Good,” she whispered, setting the bottle down. “Because I have something important to tell you.” Nathan forced a smile. “I’m listening.”

  But inside, his mind was racing. Every movement, every word, every breath of hers, he analyzed it like evidence. Her tone. Her eyes. Her hands. And yet, when she leaned closer, her perfume washing over him again, he almost forgot all of it.

  Her voice softened. “You look so serious tonight, Andrew,” she teased, calling him by the name she knew. “Relax. It’s just dinner.”

  He chuckled weakly, masking his pain. “Yeah, just dinner.” But in his heart, he knew it wasn’t.

  This wasn’t dinner. This was a war between love and justice. Between two people who had once shared the same bed but now stood on opposite sides of the law. Nancy reached across the table, her fingers finding his again. “You’re cold,” she said softly. Nathan looked down at their joined hands. Her skin was warm. Human. Real.

  “How,” he thought bitterly, “can hands that feel so gentle hold a gun steady enough to kill?”

  He met her gaze, the conflict raging behind his eyes. She smiled, and that smile almost made him believe she was innocent.

  Almost. But the blood on Stephen’s floor, and the secret tunnel which he had seen would not let him forget.

  At the station, Rita and Bobby sat in front of the tracking monitor, the blue glow from the screen flickering against their faces. The map pulsed with a small red dot. Rita leaned forward, squinting at it. Her heart sank. “Why is his location showing Doctor Nancy Oakham’s home?” she muttered, her brows drawing together. “Could she be the killer he was talking about?”

  Bobby gave a tired sigh, rubbing his temple. “That’s not possible. The girl is too nice to kill anyone. He must have gone there for another business.”

  Rita’s jaw tightened. Too nice? she thought bitterly. Nice people wore masks all the time. From that night when she had gone to inspect Nancy’s apartment and saw her bed through herwindows's empty, only for Nancy to stroll out of the same flat the next morning like she spent all night inside the apartment, Rita had felt something off. She had no evidence then, but the unease had never left her.

  She glanced back at the pulsing dot. “Why, then,” she said under her breath, “is Nathan at her home after saying he’s going to confront the killer?” Bobby placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Stop thinking nonsense, let’s just wait for directives from Nathan,” he said quietly. But Rita couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She had worked with Nathan for years. He wasn’t the kind who would mix duty with pleasure.

  At Nancy’s apartment, the atmosphere was thick with an odd stillness. The clinking of cutlery on porcelain echoed softly through the candlelit dining room. Nathan sat across from Nancy, his face tense, his gaze locked on her as though studying every blink, every twitch of her lips. He couldn’t reconcile the murder with the soft beautiful and kind woman before him.

  Nancy caught the look, and smiled, misreading the weight of his stare. To her, it looked like love. A tender, lingering look only a man in love would give. “What is it that you intend to tell me?” Nathan finally asked, his voice calm, almost too calm.

  Nancy’s smile deepened. She set her fork down gently, wiped her hands on a napkin, and straightened up. Her eyes shimmered with emotion. “I want to tell you that I love you so much,” she said softly. Nathan’s breath caught. His chest felt tight, suffocating.

  “And,” she continued, her smile widening, “I’ve decided not to do life without you.” Her words sliced through him like a blade. His heart thundered painfully against his ribs. Once upon a time, he would have melted hearing those words, but tonight, they felt like poison. Because at the end of this night, he was going to put her in handcuffs. Tears stung his eyes before he could stop them.

  Nancy reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’ve accepted to be your girlfriend,” she said, her voice light and joyful. “From now on, I’m yours.” But when she looked up, she froze. There was no spark in his eyes. No smile, just a dangerous gaze. No joy. “Andrew?” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I thought you would be excited upon hearing this news. Don’t you love me anymore?”

  Nathan forced a laugh. It came out hollow, cracked, and ended with a tear sliding down his cheek. Her question had sent a wave of amusement through his body; the killer of his Director is talking to him about love.

  “I love you,” he said, voice low, trembling. “More than I should.” he forced a smile. “Then why aren’t you happy about my news?” she asked, her tone shifting from confusion to worry. Nathan stared down at his plate for a moment, then met her gaze. His eyes glistened with unspoken pain. “Any other day,” he said slowly, “I’d have been the happiest man alive to hear you say that. But not today.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The air between them stilled. Nancy’s smile faltered. The color drained from her face. “What changed?” she whispered. “You lost your feelings for me?”

  Nathan hesitated, then reached across the table and took her hands. His touch was warm, steady, but beneath it, something trembled. “I also have something to tell you,” he said quietly. Nancy blinked, her heartbeat quickening. “What is it? You can tell anything.”

  Nathan studied her face for a long moment. There was innocence there, or at least the illusion of it. Her soft blue eyes, her trembling lips, the small flicker of nervousness she tried to hide. He wanted to believe she wasn’t capable of the things he’d seen, the photographs, the blood patterns, the cold, calculated precision of the kills, the secret room filled with guns and explosives. But the evidence pointed here. To her.

  He sighed, almost inaudibly. Then he slipped his hand into his pocket. Nancy’s gaze followed the motion. When Nathan pulled out his badge and placed it on the table, the small metallic object gleamed under the candlelight.

  Nancy’s entire body went still. Her eyes widened, her breathing hitched. “You’re,” she stammered. “ You are a cop?” she said, her voice barely a whisper. The words hung in the air like smoke. Nathan said nothing.

  Nancy’s hand trembled as she reached for her wine glass, but she stopped midway, her fingers twitching. “You,” she stammered. “You have been lying to me?”

  Nathan’s throat tightened. The weight of guilt pressed against his chest, but his eyes didn’t waver. “I never meant to,” he said softly.

  Nancy’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her mind was spinning, flashes of every moment they had shared ran through her head like a film reel. The long walks. The laughter. The warmth. The way he had looked at her, was it all a lie?

  Nathan’s gaze softened. “Nancy, that is not all.”

  “Don’t!” she snapped, her voice shaking. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Don’t call me that. My God—” she pressed a hand to her forehead, pacing, her breath ragged. “How can you claim you love me but lied to me”

  Nathan didn’t respond. He just quickly write Rita. “move towards my location.”

  The moment Rita saw the message, she snapped. “I told you she is the one. Now let us move.”

  Back at the apartment, the night air hung thick and uneasy. The candlelight flickered against the walls, stretching shadows across the room. Nancy paced back and forth, her bare feet moving soundlessly over the carpet. Her fingers trembled as they brushed through her hair again and again, her mind a storm of disbelief and betrayal.

  She couldn’t breathe properly. Her chest rose and fell in sharp bursts as she replayed every moment between them, every smile, every touch, every whispered promise. How could I have been so blind? she thought. The man she loved had been watching her, studying her, the entire time. She finally found a man to love but he was a deception all along.

  Then she stopped pacing. Slowly, she turned to face Nathan, her eyes narrowing. Her voice came out calm but edged with cold suspicion.

  “Wait,” she said, her tone cutting through the silence. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  Nathan’s eyes lifted from the floor. There was a flicker of sorrow in them, but his voice was steady, cold, and official. “Because,” he said, his words deliberate, “you are under arrest for the murders of Vice President Phillip, Admiral James Kong, Benjamin Doblin, Minister of Finance, and Director Stephen.” The words slammed into her like a bullet. Her heart thundered in her chest. For a moment, she stood still, completely still. Then her lips parted, but no sound came out. The tremor in her hands deepened.

  “So,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “you’ve been investigating me, all this while?” Nathan didn’t answer with words. He simply nodded. Once. Slow, and Heavy.

  Nancy let out a soft, hollow chuckle. It wasn’t amusement, it was pain twisted into something sharp. Her eyes glossed with tears that she didn’t bother to hide. “So all that charm,” she said, laughing bitterly. “All those romantic words, all those nights, were because you were investigating me? Not because you truly loved me?”

  Nathan’s throat tightened. He wished she hadn’t said that. He wished he hadn’t given her the reason to. He exhaled slowly and forced himself to meet her gaze. “At some point,” he said quietly, “it became real.”

  Nancy’s breath hitched. He continued, voice low and trembling. “But who would be happy to love a murderer?” The sentence landed like a blade between them. For a second, neither moved. The light from the candles seemed to dim, swallowed by the weight of that truth. Nancy stared at him as if seeing a stranger. The tears vanished, and something else took their place, something hard, unyielding.

  Her expression changed. Gone was the soft, sweet Nancy who giggled at his jokes and spoke about dreams. What remained was cold composure. Her voice turned sharp, her posture straightened. “Do you have proof,” she asked evenly, “to sustain your claim?”

  Nathan’s lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “You still don’t understand why they call me the Shadow King of Vexmoor,” he said, his tone shifting into quiet confidence. Nancy tilted her head, studying him. The nickname rolled off his tongue like a challenge. She had heard of this name when she was about leave North Korea for the trip. “There is an officer who is as good as shadow, they call him the shadow king of Vexmoorr. You can to becare.” But she never considered the warning as a serious one.

  “I guess,” Nathan continued, “you already know where all the evidence is.” He took a deliberate pause, watching her face closely. “Behind your wardrobe.”

  Nancy froze. Her heartbeat spiked. A flash of panic crossed her face before she quickly masked it. But it was too late, Nathan saw it.

  She knew she’d been caught. The blood drained from her face. For a heartbeat, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the wall clock.

  Then Nancy’s voice came, quiet but dangerous. “I’ll advise you,” she said slowly, her eyes darkening, “to run away from here.” Nathan stiffened. There was something in her tone, something deeper than anger. A warning. A threat. Her next words came with eerie calm. “You have no idea who and what you’re messing with.” The voice that rolled out of her wasn’t Nancy’s soft, sweet tone anymore, it was something darker, colder. It sent a chill crawling up Nathan’s spine.

  His stomach twisted. His instincts screamed that this was no longer the same woman he thought he knew. The tender doctor who kissed his forehead after long days, who smiled shyly when he called her beautiful, she was gone. This was the voice of a killer.

  For a brief second, fear gripped him. His legs trembled slightly. But Nathan was trained for this. He’d faced worse. He drew in a slow breath and steadied himself, forcing his pulse to slow. When he finally spoke, his voice carried authority, sharp and commanding.

  “Nancy Oakham,” he said, taking a step closer. “Doctor Nancy Oakham.” She didn’t respond. She just stared at him with a faint smirk that didn’t belong to her face.

  Nathan slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers brushing the cold steel of his handcuffs. His eyes never left hers. “You are under arrest,” he declared, “for the murders of Vice President Phillip Edmond, Admiral James Kong, Benjamin Scotman, and Director Stephen.”

  He took another step closer, his tone firm, rehearsed but charged with emotion. “You have the right to remain silent. If not, whatever you say or do might be used against you in a court of law.” Nancy didn’t flinch. Her face was blank; completely unreadable. But behind that mask, her mind was working fast, and Nathan could feel it.