"Andrea, do you still not believe that Jolin sold you out? Do you really think we could have known about King's Diner if she hadn't confessed?"

The slightly friendlier officer tapped his pen lightly against the desk.

The rhythmic thud echoed like a hammer against Andrea's skull, breaking her out in a cold sweat.

"Andrea, the only reason we're still giving you a chance is because you're young. Once a premeditated murder charge sticks, based on this case, you're looking at a decade behind bars, minimum. Only by confessing can you..."

Before he could finish, a knock echoed at the interrogation room door.

A junior officer shot a glance at the female cop. She stood up to answer it, and a panicked Andrea instinctively looked toward the doorway.

To her horror, she saw a vaguely familiar figure being escorted past the room by another officer.

It was a young waiter from King's Diner.

Why had the police brought him in for questioning?

Could this waiter have overheard something? She had only met Jolin at the diner twice.

Both times, she had worn a heavy disguise, her face obscured and bundled up tightly.

The waiter couldn't possibly have recognized her. Or had he accidentally overheard their conversation?

Andrea's entire body went rigidly tense as she watched the female officer hastily shut the door, acting as though she was terrified Andrea might see the passing witness.

But just before the door clicked shut, Andrea caught the female officer mouthing a surprised phrase.

"A new witness?"

After whispering that, the female officer turned to look in the direction the waiter had gone.

The door closed, and the male officer tapped his pen against the table twice more.

"Andrea, if you really don't want to seize this last chance, there's nothing more we can do. Whatever. Take her back."

The male officer started packing up his files, and the nearby recording clerk snapped their laptop shut, rising to their feet.

The standing officer immediately walked over to unlock the interrogation chair. Seeing that they were actually done asking questions and were about to drag her back to a cett, Andrea spiraled.

Her panic surged into a suffocating wave of despair and confusion.

"Where are you taking me? Are you letting me go?"

she asked the officer escorting her. He shot her a freezing glare, his face etched with blatant contempt for her delusional hope.

"Of course not. You're not getting out. Wait for your trial."

"But you don't have any evidence. You can only hold me for twenty-four hours. Hasn't time basically run out?"

In truth, ever since being locked in the interrogation room, Andrea had lost all track of time.

"Heh, you said it yourself—that's

when we don't have evidence. Now

that we have a witness, physical

proof is just a matter of time Do you

really think you're walking out of here? Move it!"

As the officer shoved her forward, Andrea's legs gave out completely.

Slipping from the interrogation chair, she collapsed onto the floor in sheer terror Seeing the two lead detectives about to walk out the door, her heart raced.

"Wait! I... I have something to say!"

The two officers exchanged a quick, knowing glance, a spark of victory in their eyes before they turned back around.

"Andrea, are you sure you want to confess now? Stop wasting our time."

Andrea nodded frantically. She was terrified that if she didn't talk now, she would be branded the sole mastermind and never get another chance to speak.

"I... I'm ready."

The male officer threw a glance at the guard, who hauled Andrea back into the interrogation chair.

But just as the recording camera flipped back on, Andrea stammered, trembling. "Can I get a glass of water?"

Consumed by nerves and sheer terror, her voice had grown painfully hoarse.