Once Upon A Sultan ✅

Chapter 15

-ZAINAB SHAMAKI'S POV-

Maroudi, Nigeria.

The interrogation is a set up.

It's just a feeling I have that tells me so. And trust me, my gut feelings are always almost accurate—this time is no different.

My eyes never wavered from the man seated across me, typing whatever on the laptop in front of him. We are currently in the interrogation room, and much to my luck—not—the man from earlier is the one conducting it. So far we have been sitting in silence, with him asking a few questions here and there.

His fingers ceased their movements, and then, he rose his head to look at me. "Miss Shamaki, where have you been last night?" He asked the one question I've heard too many times already in the last twenty-four hours.

I gave him a blank look, refusing to answer him.

He blew out a harsh breath, eyes instantly narrowed at me. Nonetheless, he turned the laptop in front of him so I can look at the screen and then tapped something on the keyboard. "We managed to obtain the CCTV footage of the building where your brother's apartment is"

I moved my eyes from him to the laptop, where just as he says, shows the corridor leading my brother's apartment.

"It shows here that you left his apartment around five in the evening; in a hurry might I add"

He was right. I can't deny that because the footage clearly shows me leaving the apartment hastily. But then again, I don't plan on denying it.

He then reached out and typed something again, making the clip switch from that one to another. "And this shows you returning home at 1 in the morning. If we look closer..." He zoomed the video after pausing it to just as I was about to enter the apartment. "...that seems to be blood on your outfit. Is it not?"

Why did I forget the CCTV?

Technically, I had so much on my mind that it was the last thing which crossed it. In between snapping out of the state I found myself in, and leaving the house early in the morning only to face more trouble then, who would care about it?

But I didn't answer him this time around either. I simply crossed my arms over my torso and leaned back on the uncomfortable chair. See, I came here with the intention of speaking. However, as I realized this is all a trap, I figured it will be better to zip my lips shut.

I'm here for questioning, not to be arrested. If I don't say anything, then they can't use anything against me.

The most is, he'll ask a string of questions and if I don't answer, he'll have to give up and let me go home. Unless he wants to stay here for hours with no words coming from me. I don't mind. But, I don't think he can handle it.

True to my words, he released another harsh breath and clicked his tongue, looking away for a brief moment when all he got from me is silence. Deciding to play another clip, he continued. "Now this clip also shows you leaving the house quarter to six in the morning, leaving with a black leather bag. Mind telling us what's in the bag?"

Yet again, I kept my lips sealed shut. Staring at his face isn't doing me any good either—he's not the best looking man on Earth or maybe, that's my annoyance speaking but whatever the case is, I couldn't continue staring at him.

So, I sighed and moved my gaze around the room, hoping to find something interesting. There was nothing noteworthy though, except the interrogation room isn't the best looking place in Maroudi. I find it weird because places in Maroudi are always top notch. At least, the sides that I've been to are like that and I expected the police station to be the same. I guess not.