The officers handed her a few photos. "Here are some photos. If you don't mind, please take a look."

They were photos of a vaguely recognizable male body. Nathalia almost vomited at sight. Then something caught her attention. She knitted her brows.

​​

The officers noticed the change on Nathalia's face and asked instantly, "Can you recognize it?"

"I'm not sure." Nathalia hesitated. "Is it murder or suicide?"

There were too many thoughts and doubts in her head. She didn't know how to think of it. She wasn't sure how she felt about it.

The police knew about the relationship between Nathalia and her father. They observed her closely and tried to guess her thoughts.

"It's still under investigation, but we shall have the verdict soon."

Nathalia was still processing the news, the possibility that her father was dead.

Suddenly a voice shouted from behind, "Do you suspect that Nathalia has murdered Mr. Frank Carter, officers? I know what Nathalia is like. She won't do such a thing." It was Ben Johnson. He shouted, deliberately loud so that whoever around could hear him.

He noticed some people stop to watch, and he was pleased with himself.

A slight hint of anger appeared on Nathalia's face. "I do not have a motive to kill Frank Carter. However, you, Ben Johnson, do." She said clearly with a deliberate pause between each word.

"Huh? Why?" The officers were intrigued.

Ben wasn't pleased now. Shit! Again. She's going to turn it back at me. Recalling the previous incidents, Ben yelled back anxiously, "Nathalia Carter, don't talk nonsense. You are too good at making things up."

Hasn't he learned at all? Does he still see me as an idiot? Nathalia sneered, "I'm being a responsible citizen and telling the police what I know and should be told. Why? Are you scared? Are you scared because you are guilty? Because you are hiding something?" He's invited trouble to himself. What a dumbass!

Ben exclaimed angrily, "Bullshit. Why would I ever want to kill Frank Carter?"

"Because you slept with his wife and humiliated him. He put you in prison, so you got revenge." She answered Ben casually, then turned to the officers, "Doesn't it make sense to you, officers?"

The officers exchanged looks and nodded. "We will confirm the identification of the victim first, then we will question whoever is related or suspicious."

Worried, Ben shouted frantically, "I didn't kill him. Nathalia Carter, you are talking nonsense." His sudden high pitched voice brought suspicion. The passers-by, as well as the officers, all turned to look at Ben. Isn't he acting too excited?

Nathalia knew it was the right moment to attack. "Why are you so worried, Mr. Ben Johnson? The officers haven't said anything yet. Also, you have plenty of time to think of an excuse or make up a story before they investigate you."

The passers-by gasped and stared at Ben as if he was a convicted murderer. The officers looked at Ben suspiciously.

Ben met their looks and shivered with terror. "Nathalia Carter, you are ridiculous!"

The officers gestured and said to Nathalia politely, "This way please, Miss Nathalia Carter.

One of the officers had an errand to run and excused himself while the other one took Nathalia, accompanied by Spencer's bodyguards, to the mortuary.

It was icy cold in the mortuary. The walls, the ceiling, and even the floor were all painted white. It made the place feel even colder.

A few corpses were placed on the beds, covered by white sheets. The officer led the way. He walked as if he was walking in a usual room or on a normal street as he had grown accustomed to it.

The bodyguards' faces turned pale. Nathalia shivered and had goosebumps all over her arms.

A man wearing a white robe and spectacles came over. "Nice to meet you, Miss Nathalia Carter. I'm Dr. Keating, the forensic pathologist." He said in the self-introduction.

Dr. Keating ushered them to a bed at the corner. He lifted the sheet up to unveil a body so distortedly bloated that it was unrecognizable.

A sickening smell greeted Nathalia's nostrils violently. She took a quick glance to see a rotten body and immediately closed her eyes. Her hand on her chest, she found it difficult to breathe. It was suffocating.

The officer asked gravely, "Do you recognize the body, Miss Nathalia Carter? Is it your father?"

Nathalia plucked up her courage, opened her eyes, and took a closer look at the body. "I can't recognize who it is, but the gold watch is the same as Mr. Carter's. It's a present from his wife, and he's never taken it off. There should be a scratch at the back of the watch and a serial number."

The officer turned the watch around and saw the scratch and number on it. "It looks like the victim is identified. Thanks for your cooperation, Miss Carter."

Nathalia felt a heavyweight on her heart. "You are welcome. Officer, I don't mean to interfere, but can you identify the body merely by the watch? I just don't think Mr. Cather will die so easily. I have a feeling that he's still alive."

The way Nathalia addressed Frank Carter, surprised the officer. She didn't call him father or any insulting names. It can't be easy for her. He thought sympathetically.

"I understand how you feel, but the proof has shown the fact. I'm sorry, Miss Carter." He tried to find words to console her.

Nathalia knitted her brows. She wanted to leave. "May I go now?" The rotten smell and the depressing scene made her sick. She wanted to see Spencer, to be in his arms, to hear him call her name and tell her that everything was fine.

Her face was pale. The officer felt sorry for her, but he needed to get the job done. "Just one second. I will need your signature." His hands reached to his pockets but didn't find the paper. "I have probably left it in the car. I will be back right away."

The officer ran out of the room quickly. Suddenly, Nathalia started panting and felt like vomiting. She struggled towards the door and bang, something behind her hit the floor. She turned around to see one of the bodyguards on the floor and bang, the other one fell as well.

She wasn't sure if they just fainted or they had died. She felt a sudden panic and instantly reached for her phone in her pocket and dialed the familiar number. She covered her mouth with her hands and aimed towards the door.

Things started to turn blurry, and each step forward became more and more difficult. She told herself to keep moving, to avoid the pit of darkness. I can't fall.

Sweats dripped off her forehead. Her heart was racing. An uneasy feeling filled her heart. Just as she reached the door, her hand on the doorknob, she fell onto her knees. She turned the knob only to find that it was locked.

Terror-stricken, she shivered.