If not for the fact that she was Sophia’s close friend, I would’ve thrown her out long ago.
What I never expected was how calculating she could be.
She drank heavily under the pretense of celebrating Sophia’s birthday, pretended to be drunk so she could stay the night, then sneaked into my bed in the middle of the night.
Just so Sophia would misunderstand, just so she’d think I had cheated with her best friend.
Emma didn’t hesitate to use such a despicable trick to try to break us apart.
I drew back my thoughts and stared coldly at Emma lying beside me.
She had completely discarded her dignity just to force me away from Sophia.
For a moment, I even wanted to slap her, to vent my anger.
But in the end, my hand fell.
Not because I felt sorry for her—because I thought it wasn’t worth it.
“Still pretending to be asleep? Does this amuse you?”
I said coldly, staring at Emma.
But she remained motionless, as if she were truly unconscious.
There was no reaction at all.
That only made me angrier.
I kicked at her, but instead of a body, my foot hit something sticky.
Lifting the blanket, I froze in horror at what I saw.
Emma Brooks was drenched in blood.
The bedsheet beneath her was soaked through, dyed a deep crimson.
And in her chest—was a kitchen knife.
For a moment, I was paralyzed, every hair on my body standing on end.
I scrambled off the bed in panic.
“Emma?”
I called out, testing if she might respond.
But she didn’t move.
My mind spun.
I could understand Emma sneaking into my bed at night to fabricate evidence of an affair, so Sophia would misunderstand and our relationship would collapse.
But what I couldn’t understand was why she would climb into my bed and then kill herself.
What the hell was she trying to do?
Did she want the whole world to believe I was her killer?
Her words from a week ago flashed back into my mind.
She had said I would regret rejecting her.
Was this what she meant?
If so, then she was completely deranged.
Who kills themselves just to frame the man who rejected them?
She wanted to trade her young life for my lifetime imprisonment.
The more I thought about it, the colder I felt.
Her pale face seemed more grotesque and terrifying by the second.
A woman ruthless enough to kill even herself…
My scalp prickled, and I shivered.
After a long moment, I forced myself to calm down. I had to check if Emma was still breathing.
If she was alive, calling an ambulance might still save her.