Chapter 44 - Erased? Maybe.
The station was already busy, but the Wilsons walked in like people who wouldn’t leave until someone listened.
Mrs Wilson's eyes were red with anger. “I don’t understand. How is he free? We brought you evidence. We told you she wrote it before she left the house. She said he hurt her, and said she couldn’t stay another minute in that school because of him. Isn’t that enough?”
The officer behind the desk rubbed his forehead, tired but patient. “Ma’am, we’ve reviewed the letter more than once. And we’ve told you, it doesn’t point to Leonard Grande. Not directly. Not clearly.”
Mr. Wilson leaned forward. “So what does it point to, then? Our daughter didn’t just disappear for no reason. She didn’t end up in that hotel room by accident. Something pushed her there.”
“We’re not denying that,” the officer said gently. “But this letter… it doesn’t connect her death to Leonard. It doesn’t name him. It doesn’t describe an incident. It doesn’t match the timeline she last had contact with your family.”
Mrs. Wilson’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. “She left home because of something. Because of someone. And she wrote that letter to warn us.”
The officer took a slow breath. He’d repeated this explanation too many times already.
“Ma’am… with all due respect… handwriting analysts already confirmed the tone, pressure, and phrasing don’t match your daughter’s previous notes. We believe the letter was written after her disappearance, not before.”
Mr. Wilson stiffened. “So you’re accusing us now?”
“No,” the officer said evenly. “I’m saying the letter, as evidence, won’t hold in court. It’s not strong enough for us to arrest a student we already questioned and cleared.”
Mrs. Wilson scoffed. “Because his mother has money.”
The officer hesitated, because there was truth in that, but he shook his head. “Because the case is unstable. And we don’t want to mix with something that powerful without concrete proof. Charlene Grande's involvement makes this… complicated.”
Mr. Wilson let out a short, bitter laugh. “So you know who we are? Do we look poor to you.”
“No one said you were,” the officer replied. “But influence doesn’t change the facts. The letter doesn’t connect Leonard to Nicole’s death. Not legally.”
“Besides, what you should be more concerned about is how we're going to find her murderer. Not arrest a student for a letter.” The officer brought out the letter and put it on the table.
Mrs. Wilson picked up the paper with shaking fingers, folding it like it was suddenly useless.
“This isn’t right,” she whispered. “She deserved better.”
The officer nodded softly. “She does, we'll give her the justice she deserves. We'll find her murderer. Assured.”
The Wilsons exchanged a defeated look.
Grief. Anger. Helplessness.
“This isn’t over,” Mr. Wilson said quietly, almost to himself.
They walked out slowly, the door closing behind them.
Inside, the officer exhaled, finally, and whispered under his breath:
“These people need someone to blame.”
But he didn’t say it loud enough for anyone else to hear.
MéXICO ~ IMPERIO DEL PECADO {EMPIRE OF SIN}
SUVs rolled into the massive compound of Imperio del pecado. A truck followed behind, rumbling as it stopped in the yard, another mission completed.
From the window of his private villa, Zane watched it all. Shirtless, cigarette burning between his fingers, eyes empty.
His villa overlooked the entire syndicate, a kingdom built on power, blood loyalty, and fear. His father’s mansion sat on the opposite hill. Shadow lived in a condo near the armory.
He exhaled smoke slowly as the mobs climbed out.
From the front SUV, Shadow stepped down. She wore no digital mask today, only a simple one, leaving her void-dark eyes exposed. The wind pushed her hair around wildly.
She spotted Zane instantly.
He glared at her so sharply it cut.
She looked away, face tightening.
“Abre el camión, saca a las chicas y haz que se alineen.” (Open the truck, get the girls out, and make them line up.)
The truck doors were pulled open.
The girls stepped down, still in their uniforms, crying, shaking, unable to even stand still. Their fear spread fast. They’d heard about this place.
Anyone caught, and brought here. Never goes back.
“Llévenlas a las celdas.” (Take them to the cells.)
They were guided forward, whispering prayers, stumbling, some barely able to breathe through the panic.
A mobster walked up to Shadow.
“Sombra… el joven se?or quiere la quinta ni?a.” (Shadow… Young Lord wants the fifth girl.)
The fifth girl froze, hands trembling violently.
Shadow let out a dry, irritated scoff. “Por supuesto que sí.” (Of course he does.)
She glanced toward Zane’s window, but he was already gone.
“Bastardo,” she muttered under her breath.
“Llévensela con él.” (Take her to him.)
The fifth girl didn’t resist. She just cried quietly as the mobster nudged her forward. The other girls broke down harder, one collapsed in fear, another lost control and wet herself, another fainted.
The cries rose sharply.
A mobster fired a gun into the air. The crack silenced everything for a moment.
The girls screamed.
“Move!” he barked.
They shuffled forward with weak, terrified steps.
Shadow clenched her fists and turned away, walking off with hard, echoing steps, her anger simmering, her jealousy twisting.
Leonard’s car rolled to a stop, and Aurora reached for the door handle, moving slowly…
“Stay there.” His voice cut through the silence.
Before she could argue, he was already out, rounding the car with long, decisive strides. The door clicked open; and he scooped her up without giving her a chance to react.
“Wait.. what are you—”
“Hush.” His tone left no room.
“Ren… I can walk.” She protested, brows furrowed.
“Really?” He arched a brow, mockery dripping from his voice. “Didn’t look like it earlier.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck with a glare. “Brat,” he muttered under his breath.
She rolled her eyes dramatically and looked away, pretending she hadn’t heard him.
Leonard reached the front door. “Doorbell,” he ordered.
Aurora pressed it, and in an instant, the door swung open. Nanny Mira appeared, and froze.
Her eyes bulged. Her mouth fell open in a tiny gasp.
Leonard shot her a single look. It was enough to make her straighten her posture instantly and step aside in silence.
Boots hitting the marble floor, he carried Aurora through the entrance and up the stairs.
He pushed her bedroom door open with his foot, not harsh, just impatient, and shut it the same way behind him.
Aurora lifted her face from the curve of his neck.
She hadn’t realized she’d buried it there.
His cologne, Dior Sauvage Elixir, had drowned her senses. Addictive. Dangerous.
“That’s it. Put me down.” She muttered, trying to sound unfazed.
He lowered her onto the bed with surprising gentleness.
She stared up at him, trying, for the millionth time, to read his expression.
Nothing.
He was a void. A living, breathing blank space she could never decode.
It frustrated her. He frustrated her.
He tucked her in, straightened, and turned to leave.
Before he could take a step, she caught his hand. “Ren, what do you want? You’re confusing me. None of this makes sense.” Her voice was small, honest.
He paused. Then slowly peeled her fingers off his wrist.
“Rest.” He said quietly, his voice unreadable. “If you don’t, that sharp pain will come back.”
Aurora took her hand on his wrist again, refusing to let him walk away yet.
“Leonard… why are you doing all this?” she whispered, frustration tightening her voice. “You don’t care. You made that clear from day one. So why— why carry me? Why tuck me in? What is this?”
He didn’t turn fully. Just angled his head slightly, jaw flexing.
“Noelle.” His voice was flat. “Not everything needs an explanation.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“And I’m not giving one.”
She let out a shaky sigh. “You can’t just, do things like this and act like it means nothing.”
“It does mean nothing.” Sharp. Cold. But something flickered in his eyes, too fast for her to catch.
“Then stop acting like it means something,” She shot back.
His gaze locked with hers.
A long, heavy silence stretched between them, the kind that made her heart pound with confusion, not affection.
“You’re overthinking again,” he said finally.
“And you’re avoiding again.”
“Get rest, Noelle.”
He turned, hand already on the door.
She hated it.
The feeling of being left with half-answers, half-truths, half of whatever the hell he was.
“Ren!” She snapped.
He didn’t look back this time.
The door shut behind him.
Just like that, he was gone.
For a moment, Aurora stayed still, staring at the door
Trying to put the world back together in her head.
Trying to make sense of the void named Leonard Grande.
She failed.
‘It does mean nothing’ That echoed in her head as if she just heard it for the first time.
What the hell was she even doing?
After a few minutes, a soft knock tapped the door.
Nanny Mira stepped in carefully, clutching Aurora’s bag like it was fragile.
“Your things, dear,” She said gently.
She took the bag from her slowly.
Her phone was inside.
She pulled it out, and immediately, her mind betrayed her.
Leonard.
His number. His messages. His voice telling her to rest. His hands on her.
The infuriating calm in his eyes.
Her memories flashed in rapid cuts; his mouth on hers. His hand gripping the back of her neck. The hallways. The lab. Dance class. His parents’ mansion. His villa. Her room.
Man, the things they did here.
Pressed bodies. His stare burning into her like a threat she wasn’t ready for.
She clenched her jaw, forcing the images out.
“No,” she muttered to herself. “Enough.”
She opened his contact.
For a second, her thumb hovered.
Because there were moments, tiny ones, where he wasn’t all shadows. Moments she didn’t want to admit existed.
But she shoved that thought away.
Block. Delete. Gone.
The screen blinked empty.
Aurora stared at the blank space where his name had been, her chest tightening in a way she refused to acknowledge.
“That’s better,” She whispered.
A lie she hoped would sound true if she said it enough.
★
Leonard drove with one hand, the other unlocking his phone as he left Raven Mansion.
He sent the same dry message he always sent before disappearing.
★ MESSAGE NOT DELIVERED
He didn’t need to read it twice before realizing she blocked him.
His lips twitched, not a smile, not annoyance, just a faint movement.
“So the cramps finally got to her head.” He muttered, almost bored, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat without a second glance.
Eyes back on the road.
He didn’t register the way the screen dimmed.
He didn’t register anything at all.
Because in the next blink...
The road fractured into chaos.
A horn blasted. Another answered. Then a brutal, shattering crash ripped through the road.
Metal slammed metal.
Cars collided in a violent chain reaction, too fast, too loud, too sudden to understand who hit who.
Smoke rolled out like a curtain pulled over the street.
From somewhere inside that haze, a pedestrian stumbled back, pointing at Leonard's car with wide eyes.
“HEY—THAT CAR! THAT CAR WAS HIT!”
“HEY—THAT MAN— HE’S—”
The voice cut through the smoke, sharp, panicked.
And then...
Everything vanished into smoke. Nothing could be seen.
A total blackout.
Like the scene itself refused to show more.
TBC...