Chapter 4

I opened the door to find a middle-aged man in a suit standing outside. It was William.

"Hello, who are you?" I asked, pretending not to recognize him.

William looked me up and down, a trace of suspicion flickering in his eyes. "I'm William Archer. I'm here to pick up my wife."

"Oh, Amelia's husband," I said, acting like I'd just realized. "Come on in. Amelia's inside helping me clean up the place."

William stepped inside and, seeing Amelia busy, his expression soured a bit.

"Amelia, what are you doing here?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

Amelia looked flustered. "William, I... I just wanted to check on Julian and bring him a few things."

"Bring him things?" William's tone grew cold. "You two are already divorced. There's no reason for you to still be involved, is there?"

The air instantly turned awkward.

I stepped up to defuse the tension. "Mr. Archer, don't get the wrong idea. Amelia just saw I'm fresh out and having a tough time getting back on my feet, so she's just lending me a hand. Really, that's all there is to it."

William glanced at me. "I heard you lost your memory?"

"Yeah, the doctor said it's just a mild case of amnesia. There's a lot I can't remember," I said, forcing a smile. "I can't even recall how I ended up behind bars."

William let out a small sigh of relief, though he still shot Amelia a somewhat wary look.

Amelia hurried to explain, "William, Julian honestly doesn't remember anything. You seriously have nothing to worry about."

"In that case, it's best if you two keep your distance from now on," William said, his tone softer but still cold. "You're divorced now, and we've got our own lives to lead."

"You're right," I nodded. "Amelia, I appreciate you helping me clean up today. I won't ask you for favors anymore."

Amelia glanced at me, then at William, clearly torn. "Julian, if you ever need help, you can still—"

"Amelia," William interjected, cutting her off. "Let's go."

As I watched them leave, I couldn't help but let out a cold, mocking chuckle.

William Archer, you were rattled. Got a guilty conscience, huh? That was why you were so on edge.

That night, I got a call from an unknown number.

"Is this Mr. Julian Parker?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Yeah, who's this?" I replied.

"This is Officer Samuel Drake from city police. There's something I'd like to talk to you about," the officer said.

"What's this about?" I asked, feeling a little wary.

"It's about the car accident involving Patrick three years ago. We've reopened the case and found some new leads," Samuel said.

I clenched my phone, suspicion rising. "What kind of leads?"

"Can't say much over the phone. Could you swing by the station tomorrow?" Samuel asked.

"Sure, I'll be there," I replied.

After hanging up, a sly grin crept across my face.

Step two of the game was in play.

The next morning, I showed up at the police station right on time.

Samuel was a middle-aged guy in his forties, looking all business.

"Mr. Parker, we've recently received some newly reported leads about your son's car accident," Samuel said.

"What kind of leads?" I asked.

Samuel pulled out a file. "Someone reported that the driver who killed your son has been found, and it looks like the accident might not have been an accident after all."

I acted shocked. "Not an accident? What do you mean, Officer?"

"From what our informant told us, the driver who hit your son was paid to do it deliberately," Samuel said.

"Who paid him?" I demanded, my voice tense.

Samuel looked straight at me, his face serious. "Your ex-wife, Amelia Clarke—she now goes by Amelia Archer."

I stared back, eyes wide in disbelief. "No way! Amelia—she's Patrick's mother! She'd never do something like that!"

"We were just as shocked, but the informant provided audio evidence," Samuel said as he pressed play on the recorder.

A man's voice echoed from the speaker: "Mr. Archer gave me half a million to hit that kid at a specific time and place. Then Amelia promised that no one would ever come looking for me."

I stood there in shock, speechless for a long moment.

"Mr. Parker, are you alright?" Samuel asked.

My voice trembled as I said, "This recording... is it legit?"

"We're still looking into it. If this checks out, we're talking murder," Samuel said. "We need you on board for the investigation."

"Just... give me a second to wrap my head around this," I muttered, dropping hard into the chair. "If this is real, that means Patrick—my son—he was killed on purpose..."

"Mr. Parker, I get how rough this is. But to figure it all out, we really need you to help us out," Samuel said.

I nodded and said, "Count me in. But... can you hold off on telling Amelia for now? I need to talk to her myself first."

Samuel hesitated. "Procedure says we should bring her in right away."