Emmanuella’s POV
I gasped, letting out a sharp cry. My phone nearly slipped from my hand as I turned over on the bed. My heart raced. I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
For hours, I’d been lying there, clinging to my phone and sighing every few minutes, waiting for a call from Attorney John—or at least, the man I assumed could help me. But now, reading this damning article, my mind spiraled into chaos.
I scanned the words again, each one slicing through my composure.
"Am I the prime suspect because Cassandra is also dead?" I whispered to myself, my voice trembling.
The article was gaining traction quickly. Hundreds of shares, thousands of comments. It wouldn’t be long before the police came knocking. My body froze as I imagined the interrogation, the accusations, the humiliation.
