𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 [18+]

44: A Lightyear Between Us

"The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."

-Charles Dickens

Okay I'll give you what you are here for.

These are just puzzles of events which took place before present day, somewhat of a continuation from 42.

(Present Day)

Marienne's POV:

"So you're saying that you have an inkling of who is the murderer, why don't you try to find evidence against the person who did this? Also what about the one who took photos." My trusty lawyer, Mr. Sherman uttered, whilst taking a sip from the red cup.

I crossed my legs, eyeing the scattered papers in front of me. I didn't like being here, the workplace isn't the same as I left it.

Keeping a cool and calm façade was the number one priority in any kind of business. One would have to make the client feel comfortable in order to extract anything from him.

I might have to do just that.

Pursing my lips, I took a sip of the Cappuccino that was kept in front of me. The bittery sweet liquid left a delightful taste in it's way as I gulped half of it in one go.

"I took care of that photographer, as for the murderer, rushed decision would not be a wise choice at this situation. Moreover, I said, I have an inkling. It doesn't necessarily mean I know who is the murderer." My voice was deadly calm..... and controlled.

Control.

I had control over myself now.

Control and a will as firm as a mountain is what a man needs to achieve what he desires.

It felt like I was fluttering with the wind.

My sense of perceptions barely had time to register the summer wind as my Black Sudan moved along with it, cutting though it. My left hand gripped the steering wheel tightly. To the point when my knuckles were turning white.

I was shivering.

My heart was beating loudly in my ribcage.

I could have taken an airplane. I could take my private jet, the one I purchased recently.

But I chose to drive. It allowed me some more time.

More time to think.

More time to breathe.

More time to knit the apology note I have spent months on.

Thinking, procrastinating, thinking again.

Breathing, eating, working, thinking. That was how I spent my past three months.

Three months of misery.

Three months of guilt.

Three months of practicing control.

I looked out of the window through my sunglasses as my car passed the lush forest, the scenic beauty adding more to my jitters.

"But sir? Isn't it appropriate to find evidences now? Wouldn't delaying give the murderer more time to hide the possible evidences?"

I kept down the cup with a small 'clink' and looked up at the lawyer who seemed to be in his mid 40's. "If my suspicion is correct, trust me, that person wouldn't be able to do anything."

Inside I was bursting with rage.

Anger.

And the worst of all?