Chapter 5
As my mom’s final words faded into the air, all eyes turned to me.
Just moments ago, they had witnessed Lincoln hurl himself to his death in sheer terror, driven by whatever my mom had whispered.
Now, they waited.
Would I follow?
Would I, too, crumble beneath the weight of those words?
Tension crackled in the air, thick with silent expectation. But I didn’t move.
I didn’t waver.
Instead, I furrowed my brows, locked eyes with my mom, and spoke with unwavering certainty.
“You’re lying.”
“There’s no way you said that to them.”
But my mom remained impassive, her expression unreadable.
“I’ve already told you. Believe it or not, that’s up to you.”
Cold. Detached.
But I wasn’t backing down.
“If that’s all you said, then why would my dad and Lincoln kill themselves? They were both kind, optimistic men. You expect me to believe a single sentence was enough to drive them to suicide?”
I was certain, absolutely certain, she was lying.
And yet, her face remained untouched by guilt, remorse, or even the barest flicker of hesitation.
“I already told you,” she said smoothly. “They chose to kill themselves. It had nothing to do with me.”
My relentless accusations.
Her unnerving composure.
And the crowd, once seething with fury, now stood in silent bewilderment, unable to tell the truth from lies.
One by one, they studied us, eyes sharp with suspicion, minds clouded
with doubt.
Mom’s Whisper Led My Father and Fiancé to Death
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22:53 Thu, 13 Mar
Before I could speak again, the wail of sirens shattered the tense silence. Police cars screeched to a halt, their flashing lights casting a cold, unrelenting glow over the scene.
A team of officers stepped out, moving with purpose, their gazes locked
on my mom.
“We received a report that you are suspected of deliberately inciting others to commit suicide.”
“This is now the second case linked to you. You need to come with us for an investigation.”
Even with handcuffs snapping around her wrists, my mom didn’t flinch.
She didn’t argue.
She didn’t resist.
Instead, she let them lead her to the car, her silence as chilling as the accusations against her.
Through the tinted glass, her gaze met mine, deep, unreadable.
A thousand unsaid words seemed to hover between us, yet for some reason, she chose not to speak them.
I stood motionless as the police car drove away, the image of her fading
into the distance.
But even with her gone, the weight of her presence lingered.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The crowd’s collective focus remained on me, watching, waiting- searching for any sign that my reaction would betray me.
When it became clear that I remained untouched by whatever she had whispered, Lincoln’s mother hesitantly stepped forward.
Her voice trembled.
Her eyes were filled with fear.
“Sasha, what exactly did your mother say to you?”
