Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A week after Ethan Bennett's death, Clara Winslow contacted me and asked to meet at a café. She pulled out an envelope, and as I wondered if it contained a check or cash, she snapped, "I know it was you! I asked you here today to get this straight."

"Know what? What are you talking about?" I opened the envelope in confusion, only to find a blank piece of paper with words cut out from different magazines and newspapers pasted on it. Together, they formed a sentence: "You're next."

Clara Winslow leaned in close. "You killed Ethan Bennett! Before he died, you told me you'd dreamed he was killed—and then a few days later, he was dead. Don't tell me that's a coincidence. If dreams could kill people, there would be no criminals left in the world! Now you're threatening me too—what do you want?"

"I warned you to keep an eye on Ethan Bennett's safety. Now that he's dead, you're blaming me?" I feigned calm, letting out a sigh. "Then tell me—what's my motive? The police said the person who killed Ethan Bennett is about 175cm tall. I'm only 160cm. That alone rules me out as a suspect."

"Height? What's so hard about hiring someone to do it for you? You could also put insoles in your shoes or wear a tall hat to create the illusion of being taller. But I don't think you have the guts to kill Ethan Bennett with your own hands!" Clara Winslow looked at me mockingly, as if she had already won. She went on, "You're just angry because Ethan Bennett slandered you online, so you turned that love into hatred and wanted to kill him. Ethan Bennett wrote that post—that's the truth you wanted, isn't it? That's your motive!"

Hearing Clara Winslow say so confidently that Ethan Bennett had written the post made me doubt it even more. If she had said she had forced Ethan Bennett to write it, I would have believed her more. Because Ethan Bennett didn't seem like the type to make up lies and slander someone.

I asked, "Even if Ethan Bennett wrote that post—isn't it you who really wanted to ruin me, not the person who wrote it?!"

Clara Winslow suddenly spoke in a sarcastic tone, "It's just a post. You're still alive and well, aren't you? It's not like you had to kill someone over it."

Anger surged through me. I slammed my hand on the table, cutting her off. "You think a single post didn't affect me much? Do you have any idea what that post did to me? I was reduced to a shadow of myself, my family was dragged into this mess, and my father is still lying in the hospital!

My company fired me, my friends avoided me like the plague, and I couldn't even take care of myself. And you think it's 'nothing'? You've never been through what I went through, so you can brush off other people's pain so easily. You're not the one suffering, so you can act like it's none of your business. You'll never understand that feeling of despair—like someone is choking you, cutting off your air!"

Clara Winslow looked at me as if I were insane. "Calm down. Is it really that bad? Honestly, I don't care what you've been through. I just want to tell you—I'm moving to the US to get married in two months. As long as I get there safely, I'll make it worth your while."

I was confused. "What are you talking about? I thought you were with Ethan Bennett—why are you going to the US to get married?"

"I came back to take care of some paperwork and to see Ethan Bennett. I never expected he would beg me to be with him. I wasn't trying to break you two up on purpose. I planned to tell him I already had a fiancé after a while. I never thought you would kill him." I stared at Clara Winslow, struggling to control my anger. If there hadn't been so many people around, I would have rushed over and torn that fake, innocent face of hers to shreds.

"You love smearing other people so much, don't you? Has it become a habit? If you say I killed him, show me the evidence. And I didn't write that note. It seems you have quite a few enemies—they're lining up to get back at you. But this between us? It's not over." With those words, I stood up and stormed out of the café.