Skip to content
Novel Catalog
Chapter_211
As Yvette sat there, legs casually draped across the table, the tension in the interrogation room began to thicken. She didn’t say a word, her gaze lazily drifting over to Eric as if she had all the time in the world. The minutes passed, and Eric’s frustration grew. He shifted in his seat, glancing at the door as though he were waiting for someone to come in and give him a way out. But no one spoke.
Zane, watching from the observation room, couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Yvette’s nonchalance was unsettling. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect her; on the contrary, he’d seen how effective her presence could be. But this? This was something different. Was she trying to break Eric mentally before anything physical even happened?
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the monitor. He wasn’t the least bit surprised by Yvette’s method. He knew she was unorthodox, but she had a way of getting results. He had seen her work in the past, and she had a strange ability to manipulate people without lifting a finger.
Andrew, on the other hand, was visibly bored. He had expected a faster pace. “So… she’s just going to sit there and stare him down?” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “How is that supposed to get us anywhere?”
Jeremiah, who had been watching the screen silently, raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. His gaze shifted between the others, then back to the room where Yvette and Eric sat.
Inside the interrogation room, Eric’s eyes darted around, trying to read Yvette. He had been through enough interrogations to know that silence could be a tactic. But this? This felt different. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. There was something about her presence that made the air heavier, like she was the storm before the lightning struck.
Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Eric let out a sharp sigh, breaking the stillness. “What do you want from me?” he spat, trying to project confidence, though a hint of unease tugged at him. He hadn’t been expecting the girl to just sit there, seemingly indifferent to his defiance.
Yvette’s lips curled into a faint smile, her voice low and lazy. “What makes you think I want anything from you, Eric?” she asked, her tone calm but carrying an undeniable edge. “You’re the one who seems desperate for someone to believe your ‘overworked’ story.”
Eric stiffened at her words. His mind raced, trying to grasp the intent behind her relaxed posture. “I’m just telling the truth. It was an accident,” he repeated, his voice a bit shakier now. He had been repeating that story all morning, hoping it would hold up. But there was something in Yvette’s eyes that made him start doubting whether that would be enough.
Yvette tilted her head, studying him with an almost detached curiosity. “You really believe that, don’t you?” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharpening. “Do you think anyone will believe you when you say you were ‘just tired’?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You didn’t just kill someone in a car accident, Eric. You tried to kill him.”
Eric’s throat tightened at the mention of Zachary’s name. His gaze flicked to the door, as though he expected the other officers to burst in and save him from this confrontation. But it was only her, sitting across from him, her eyes unblinking.
“You’ve been told, haven’t you?” Yvette’s voice was almost a purr, dangerous and enticing all at once. “That people who try to kill others don’t usually get away with it.”
Eric shifted uncomfortably. His palms were sweating now, and he was aware of every breath he took. The calm demeanor of the girl opposite him was unnerving. There was no fury in her eyes, no anger or hatred. It was as if she was simply toying with him, like a cat with a mouse, waiting for the right moment to strike.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she sat back in her chair, clearly amused. “Don’t look so worried, Eric. I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, her tone suddenly light. “I’m just letting you stew in your own guilt. The truth’s already eating away at you, isn’t it?”
Eric clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. The truth? What truth? Was she really trying to play him like this?
Before he could respond, Yvette gave him a sideways glance. “But you know, you might want to consider your brother.”
The mention of his brother sent a jolt of panic through Eric. His brother? He hadn’t spoken to the man in years. There was no way he could be involved in all of this.
Yvette’s eyes locked onto his, her expression unreadable. “You’re not just an overworked truck driver, Eric. And you’re not the only one with a story to tell. So, I’ll ask you again. What’s your brother’s name? What’s he been up to all these years?”
The air grew heavy as Eric’s mind raced. How did she know about his brother? He had made sure that no one could trace his brother’s whereabouts. But now, Yvette was challenging him, pulling at the threads he thought were tightly knotted.
Out of the corner of his eye, Eric could see the faint reflection of the observers through the one-way glass. He swallowed hard, realizing that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had hoped.
Back in the observation room, Wyatt, Zane, and the others watched, captivated by the scene unfolding on the screen. Zane couldn’t help but feel a growing respect for Yvette. She wasn’t just relying on force—she was breaking him down mentally, making him second-guess everything. This was a different kind of interrogation.
Wyatt nodded in approval. “She’s got him,” he muttered, his voice low. “She doesn’t need to lay a hand on him. She’s getting inside his head.”
Jeremiah’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. He had seen Yvette work like this before, and while he didn’t always agree with her methods, he couldn’t deny their effectiveness.
Andrew leaned back, looking slightly bored. “Well, it’s working. But I thought we were going to have a little more fun with him.”
Yvette, back in the interrogation room, didn’t give Eric the satisfaction of a quick answer. She simply let the silence stretch, giving him time to stew in his own thoughts. The power was in her hands now, and she knew it.
Finally, Eric couldn’t take it anymore. His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his hands, realizing that the weight of his lies was about to crush him. He muttered under his breath, “His name is Lucas… Lucas Wilson. He’s been living out of the country for years… but he has connections.”
Yvette didn’t flinch. “Tell me about those connections, Eric.”
And so, the game of mental chess began.
