After that unforgettable encounter with Lady Victoria, I was filled with the hope that life was slowly moving toward my dreams. Little did I know that a storm of fate would suddenly descend, mercilessly pulling me into a terrifying abyss of nightmares.

　　It was a gloomy night, with clouds spreading like ink, completely obscuring the sky and weighing down every corner of the city. I had gone to visit Lady Victoria at her residence due to some work-related matters. As I stepped into the villa, located in a tranquil area on the outskirts of the city, an eerie silence enveloped me, causing me to shiver slightly.

　　The villa was dimly lit, with only a few wall lamps casting a faint glow, making the outlines of the furniture appear blurry and distorted in the shadows. I softly called out Lady Victoria’s name, but all that greeted me was an endless silence. I slowly walked toward the living room, the carpet beneath my feet felt soft and heavy in the oppressive atmosphere.

　　Just as I entered the living room, the sight before me struck like a sharp blade, piercing my heart and freezing me in place. Lady Victoria lay in the center of the room, her once elegant and noble body now contorted in a horrific pose. Surrounding her was a large pool of dark red blood, the thick liquid spreading like the tentacles of a demon, shimmering with a chilling glow in the dim light. Her face was twisted in extreme pain and fear, her eyes wide open, staring vacantly at the ceiling as if witnessing the most terrifying scene in her final moments. Her throat had been slashed open by a weapon, the deep wound resembling a gruesome gash, blood still oozing slowly from the injury, trickling down her neck and staining her exquisite white nightgown a shocking crimson.

　　The room was in disarray, books and papers scattered everywhere, as if a fierce struggle had taken place. The sofa was overturned, the coffee table was flipped, and shards of broken glass glimmered coldly in the blood pool. Not far away, a blood-stained dagger lay quietly, the blood on the blade not yet fully congealed, emanating a chilling aura in the faint light. I covered my mouth in terror, trying to stifle a scream, but my body trembled uncontrollably, and my legs felt as if they had lost all strength, threatening to give way.

　　At that moment, a siren echoed from afar, breaking the night's silence. The police quickly arrived at the scene and soon noticed me, the panicked intruder. Because I was present at the crime scene and had recent interactions with Lady Victoria, I naturally became a primary suspect.

　　I was taken to the police station and placed in a small, cold interrogation room. The walls were a lifeless gray-white, and a suffocating atmosphere hung in the air. A rickety iron table and a few stiff chairs were the only furnishings in the room, with harsh overhead lights shining down, making me feel as if I were trapped in a hot furnace with no way to escape.

　　A serious-looking detective sat across from me, his gaze sharp as a hawk, as if he could see through every ounce of fear and secret within me. "What is your relationship with Lady Victoria? Why were you at the crime scene?" His voice was deep and cold, like a judgment from hell.

　　I struggled to calm myself, my voice trembling slightly, but I answered as clearly as possible, "I’m an editor and a fan of hers. I had communicated with her before, and I came to discuss some manuscript issues tonight because of work, but I never expected..." My words trailed off, and the horrifying scene flashed back in my mind.

　　"Work? Do you think that excuse is convincing?" The detective scoffed coldly, his eyes filled with suspicion.

　　"I'm telling the truth. You can check my work records and my previous correspondence with her," I pleaded desperately.

　　"Those can all be fabricated. What were you doing at the time of the crime? Did you see any suspicious people or things?" The detective pressed on relentlessly, giving me no chance to breathe.

　　I shook my head in despair. "I had just arrived and found her... I was so frightened that I didn't notice anything else."

　　In this era when women's status was low, I knew I faced tremendous difficulties. With no financial means to hire a lawyer, I could only confront the tidal wave of suspicion and questioning alone. I felt like a trapped prey, struggling in a tightening snare with no hope of escape.

　　The detective's interrogation lasted a long time, as he repeatedly asked me every detail since I met Lady Victoria, trying to find a flaw in my answers. Each question felt like a sharp sword, piercing my already fragile nerves.

　　"You said you were here for work, but did you have any conflicts or disputes with her before?"

　　"No, I have always admired her. How could there be a conflict?"

　　"Then did you notice anything unusual around her? Did anyone show hostility toward her?"

　　"I didn’t notice. I was just discussing writing-related matters with her..."

　　My answers seemed to satisfy the detective little; suspicion lingered in his gaze. Meanwhile, the media learned of my status as a suspect and quickly surrounded me like sharks smelling blood. Various false reports flooded in, painting me as a ruthless woman willing to do anything for power, consumed by jealousy. Those malicious speculations and slanders were like daggers, deeply piercing my heart and plunging my family and friends into great distress.

　　My mother, already weakened by the pressures of life, was further devastated by these continuous blows. She cried all day and had to endure the judgmental stares of others. My younger siblings were bullied and ridiculed at school, their once innocent eyes now filled with fear and confusion. Alicia and Lucy tried to defend me, but in the face of overwhelming public opinion, their voices seemed so weak and powerless, quickly drowned out.

　　I knew I couldn't just sit and wait; I had to proactively seek evidence to prove my innocence. During the long and torturous hours of detention, I replayed every detail of the crime scene in my mind, trying to find a clue that had been overlooked.

　　I remembered the blood-stained dagger; its design seemed ordinary, but the distribution of the blood on the blade was peculiar. I had once read a book about crime scene investigation that mentioned the relationship between the state of blood congealing and time. If the murderer had placed the dagger at the scene some time after Lady Victoria's death, the level of congealing and its appearance should have differed. I decided to share this suspicion with the detective, even though I knew they might not easily believe me.

　　When I brought up this concern about the blood on the dagger, the detective initially dismissed me with a glance, seemingly thinking I was just trying to create a distraction. But after my insistence, he reluctantly agreed to re-examine the blood on the dagger.

　　Additionally, I noticed that the footprints at the crime scene, though thought to be left by the murderer, appeared uneven in depth and spacing, as if the culprit had stumbled while walking or was deliberately trying to mislead the investigation. I bravely explained this suspicion to the detective, requesting a more thorough analysis of the footprints. Although the detective remained cold toward me, I sensed a slight softening in his skepticism.

　　In this endless darkness, I seemed to see a glimmer of light. However, just as I was trying to gather more evidence, I received an anonymous letter. The content was brief and mysterious: "If you want to know the truth behind Lady Victoria's murder, come alone to the abandoned warehouse at the dock at ten tonight."

　　My heart was filled with doubt and fear; I didn't know what secrets lay behind this letter or what awaited me. But to clear my name and reclaim my innocence, I decided to take the risk and go. I didn’t tell anyone about it; on that cold and silent night, I set off alone toward the dock.

　　The abandoned warehouse sat at the edge of the dock, surrounded by a stench of decay and dampness. The walls of the warehouse were worn and weathered, as if telling tales of time's passage and endless sorrow. I cautiously pushed open the rusty door; the hinges creaked eerily in the stillness of the night, adding to the terror.

　　Inside, the warehouse was pitch black, with only a few beams of moonlight filtering through the gaps in the dilapidated roof, casting pale patches of light. I stepped carefully into the warehouse, each step feeling like I was treading on my own heartbeat, the pounding echoing in the vast space like a war drum.

　　"You've finally come," a low, hoarse voice emerged from the depths of the darkness, like a ghost rising from the depths of hell.

　　I froze in terror and shouted, "Who are you? Why did you call me here?"

　　A figure slowly emerged from the shadows. In the faint moonlight, I could see his face—an unfamiliar man, weary and worn, with a mysterious and cunning glint in his eyes.

　　"I know you are innocent; I can tell you the truth, but you must agree to one condition," he said, his voice echoing ominously in the silent warehouse.

　　"What condition?" I asked warily, instinctively stepping back.

　　"You cannot tell the police what I reveal to you, or you will regret it," he said coldly.

　　I hesitated, torn by an internal struggle. I wasn't sure if I should trust this mysterious man, but at that moment, I had no other choice. To find the truth, I gritted my teeth and nodded.

　　"Lady Victoria was killed by someone with whom she had a business dispute. That person, desperate to obtain the copyright of one of her bestselling works, resorted to murder. They had a heated argument on the night of the incident, and then that person used a dagger to end her life," the man said slowly, as if recounting a story detached from himself.

　　"Why are you telling me this? What evidence do you have?" I pressed, filled with doubt.

　　"I have no evidence, but I saw that person leave Lady Victoria’s home. I’m telling you this because I can't stand to see you wrongfully accused," he replied before turning to leave.

　　"Wait, who is that person?" I shouted after him.

　　The man paused briefly in the darkness. "I can't tell you his name, but you can investigate among Lady Victoria’s business partners." With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving me alone in the eerie warehouse, my heart a tumult of emotions.

　　I left the abandoned warehouse, filled with contradictions and confusion. I knew I couldn't fully trust this anonymous man's words, but it was my only lead. I decided to start my investigation with Lady Victoria’s business partners.

　　I began gathering information about her business dealings, and after some effort, I discovered that she had indeed been embroiled in fierce disputes over copyright issues with several parties. One publisher named Carl had the most prominent conflict with her.

　　I sought to learn more about Carl, and during this process, I found his behavior suspiciously odd after Lady Victoria’s murder. He seemed to deliberately avoid discussing the case and was uncooperative with the police, often evasive in his responses.

　　I decided to confront Carl directly. I went to his office and requested a meeting. Initially, he was unwilling to see me, and his secretary tried to block me, but after I stood my ground, he finally agreed to meet.

　　"What do you want?" Carl asked warily, his eyes filled with suspicion.

　　"I want to know if your business dispute with Lady Victoria is connected to her death," I asked bluntly, locking my gaze onto his.

　　His face turned pale instantly, and he yelled angrily, "What are you talking about? I have nothing to do with her death."

　　"Then why have you been acting so strangely since her death? Why are you not cooperating with the police investigation?" I pressed on, unyielding.

　　"My affairs are none of your business; stop bothering me, or you will pay the price," Carl threatened menacingly.

　　I knew I had touched a nerve, but I felt no fear. I was convinced that as long as I persisted, I would uncover the truth and clear my name.

　　After our unpleasant exchange, I did not give up. I continued to dig deeper and discovered several inconsistencies in Carl's alibi on the night of the murder. He claimed to have been resting at home, but no one could confirm his story. Moreover, his car had a recorded trip during the time of the murder, with the destination being near Lady Victoria’s residence.

　　I meticulously organized this evidence, preparing to present it to the police again. I knew this was my only chance; I had to convince them of my innocence and find the real murderer.

　　In this dark and desperate predicament, I struggled and fought. Despite facing police suspicion, media slander, and societal prejudice, a flame burned within me—a relentless pursuit of truth and a strong desire for vindication. I believed that as long as I did not give up, I would one day break through this overwhelming darkness and return to a life filled with hope and dreams.