A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 64 | the mysterious encounter

There was more to Elisabeth and Dwain I was very ignorant about, and I had to find out even if it meant crossing the Atlantic Ocean to know the underlying truth.

The younger security officer stepped forward and unlocked the door leading to another room full of sophisticated security monitors.

I stepped inside, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

According to Dwain's narrative, Elisabeth had drank to her full and refused to go home even when he'd opted to drive her home.

Instead of being thankful for his kindness, she'd picked a fight with him.

One thing led to another, things he intentionally failed to mention as I listened to him, and accompanied her to his hotel room where nothing ended up happening.

Not like nothing happened, but Elisabeth had initiated a kiss, before crying herself to sleep in his embrace.

Though Dwain was cooperative and very explicit while narrating the night of March 15th, I'd zoned out during most of the narrative, not paying attention to a lot of the details of that mysterious night, and currently, I was scared of discovering something that would be more upsetting.

As I settled into a chair, the security officers stood behind me, their presence a blend of stoicism and curiosity.

I took a deep breath, my hands trembling slightly, and focused my gaze on the screen in front of me.

Minutes turned into hours as they fast-forwarded through the night of the incident, my mind racing with a mix of anticipation and dread.

And then, finally, there she was, Elisabeth, walking through the lobby with a tired but content smile on her face, entering the hotel with a strange man, their bodies close as laughter filled the air.

Who was this man?

Though Dwain said a few guys approached Elisabeth while they were partying at the club, he didn't mention that another man had accompanied her to the hotel.

I might have missed this part of the narrative.

The camera's lens focused on Elisabeth's delicate figure.

Her beauty was both captivating and disheveled.

Her appearance reflected the perfect blend of allure and chaos.

Clad in a flowing, knee-length dress that swayed with each unsteady step, she exuded an aura of vulnerability.

The fabric clung to her frame, accentuating her graceful silhouette.

Vibrant hues adorned the dress, creating an intriguing contrast against the sterile hotel surroundings.

Her face remained partially hidden behind a mask, obscuring her features and lending an air of anonymity.

An enigma, she seemed to carry a secret within her hidden expression.

Her eyes, however, betrayed a hint of trepidation, reflecting the flickering lights overhead like shards of broken glass.

With each step, her unsteady gait revealed a mix of elegance and uncertainty.

Her movements were a delicate dance as if trying to balance on an invisible tightrope.

Her hands reached out sporadically, seeking support from the walls that lined the hallway.

It was as though she existed in a world where gravity was playing tricks on her.

As she approached the elevator, the camera's focus widened to include the presence of another man.

It was Dwain.