There was no reaction at all.

That only made me angrier.

I kicked at her, but instead of a body, my foot hit something sticky.

Lifting the blanket, I froze in horror at what I saw.

Emma Brooks was drenched in blood.

The bedsheet beneath her was soaked through, dyed a deep crimson.

And in her chest—was a kitchen knife.

For a moment, I was paralyzed, every hair on my body standing on end.

I scrambled off the bed in panic.

“Emma?”

I called out, testing if she might respond.

But she didn’t move.

My mind spun.

I could understand Emma sneaking into my bed at night to fabricate evidence of an affair, so Sophia would misunderstand and our relationship would collapse.

But what I couldn’t understand was why she would climb into my bed and then kill herself.

What the hell was she trying to do?

Did she want the whole world to believe I was her killer?

Her words from a week ago flashed back into my mind.

She had said I would regret rejecting her.

Was this what she meant?

If so, then she was completely deranged.

Who kills themselves just to frame the man who rejected them?

She wanted to trade her young life for my lifetime imprisonment.

The more I thought about it, the colder I felt.

Her pale face seemed more grotesque and terrifying by the second.

A woman ruthless enough to kill even herself…

My scalp prickled, and I shivered.

After a long moment, I forced myself to calm down. I had to check if Emma was still breathing.

If she was alive, calling an ambulance might still save her.

But just as I leaned closer—

the bedroom door creaked open.

Sophia Carter, dressed in her pajamas, walked in yawning.

“Babe, why’s the light still on? It’s so late, and you’re not asleep?”

Her words made me spin around, startled.

Sophia rubbed her eyes, then glanced toward the bed.

The instant our eyes met, she saw Emma lying there.

Her expression shifted instantly—her face twisted in shock, her voice rising sharp and high-pitched:

“You… why is Emma in your bed? What were you two doing?”

Facing my girlfriend’s furious accusations, I quickly explained:

“It’s not what you think. Nothing happened. I woke up and found her lying next to me.”

“Ethan Miller, I never thought you’d be with Emma…”

Tears welled up in Sophia’s eyes, streaming down her cheeks.

“There’s nothing between us. And besides—”

I tried to steady my voice, then pointed at Emma’s lifeless body.

“She’s already dead. What could I possibly do with a dead woman?”

“What? Emma… dead?”

Sophia stepped forward, horrified.

When she saw the knife buried in Emma’s chest, her eyes widened in terror.

“Ah!”

She screamed, stumbling back in fear.

Then, suddenly, she let out another piercing shriek and bolted for the door.

I lunged forward, grabbing her arm.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me, you murderer!”

Her face had gone ghostly pale, her shrill voice echoing through the entire apartment building.

She struggled violently, trying to shove me away.

But I held her tight.

Then she sank her teeth into my shoulder.

I didn’t resist. I let her bite.

When her teeth pierced my skin, a burst of pain shot through me like fire.

Grinding through the agony, I forced out the words:

“Emma wasn’t killed by me.”

Hearing my words, Sophia Carter wasn’t as hysterical as before.

She released her bite, her lips still stained with my blood.

Tears streamed down her face as she asked,

“She’s lying in your bed with a knife in her chest. There are only three of us in this apartment. If Emma Brooks wasn’t killed by you, then who did it?”

“I woke up and she was already dead. I don’t know who killed her, but… I suspect she killed herself.”

I then told Sophia about how Emma had confessed to me a week earlier.

Sophia shook her head violently.

“Impossible. Emma was my best friend. She would never steal my boyfriend. You’re just making this up after killing her, trying to escape responsibility.”

“I’m not lying. And think about it—even if you believed this story, it wouldn’t completely clear me of suspicion. So why would I go through so much trouble to fabricate a lie that doesn’t even exonerate me?”

My reasoning was sound.

Sophia calmed down a little, frowning.

“You said she warned you that you’d regret rejecting her. So you think she killed herself on purpose, just to frame you for murder?”

“Exactly. That’s what I suspect. But then again, no matter how reckless or unhinged someone is, would they really throw away their life just to frame another person over something this trivial?”

I spoke with a furrowed brow.

“So, you still can’t prove you didn’t kill her.”

Sophia stared at me intently.

“Right. At the moment, I can’t prove my innocence. She’s dead in my bed, and only the three of us were here.”

“Then let’s call the police and let them investigate.”

“No, don’t call the police.”

My refusal immediately deepened Sophia’s suspicion.

She tore herself free from my grasp, stepping back a few paces.

Her eyes sharpened, her voice icy.

“Ethan Miller, if you’re not the killer, why are you so afraid of me calling the police?”

“I’m not afraid. But if you call the police, I’ll be taken away, and then the truth of who really killed Emma will be left entirely to them. I won’t have any chance to investigate on my own. This is my life at stake—I don’t want my fate left in someone else’s hands.”

I paused, then continued firmly:

“Sophia, we’ve been together for almost a year. You know the kind of man I am. I had no reason to hurt Emma. Even if, hypothetically, something had happened between us tonight, at most our relationship would collapse and we’d break up. Why would I go as far as murdering her and then leaving her corpse beside me? I’m not that twisted.”

After listening, Sophia’s expression softened, though her voice was still tense.

“Then how do you plan to find out the truth?”

Seeing she wasn’t insisting on calling the police anymore, I let out a breath of relief.

“Do your friends all know the code to our front door?” I asked.

“Yes, they all know it,” Sophia nodded.

Her face suddenly changed. She frowned.

“You think one of them killed Emma?”

“Anyone who can freely come and go here is a suspect. If it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t you, then who killed her? It couldn’t have been a ghost.”

“But they were Emma’s close friends too. Why would they want her dead?”

“That’s the part I can’t answer yet. But I need you to help me with something first.”

“What is it?”

“Call them all over. If one of them really is the killer, I’ll find a way to make her slip up.”