James Aron leaned back in his chair, his body heavy with fatigue despite the day still stretching ahead. After meeting his new client at the police station earlier that afternoon, he had headed straight to his small Midtown East office.
He absentmindedly scratched his hair until it became tousled. Case files lay open across the desk, and the more he examined them, the clearer one thing became—the case was far too complicated.
The knife used to stab the victim to death bore his client's fingerprints. On the night of the incident, only his client and his wife were in the condominium unit. To make matters worse, there were no CCTV cameras in the building's entryway or stairwells.
Yet his client remained adamant—he was innocent.
"Why did I even take this case…" Aron muttered quietly, tension knitting his brow. "I should have investigated first. Stupid me."
He sank back into his chair again, staring at the ceiling with a weight of regret pressing on his chest. He had just tasted his first victory as a lawyer, and now, upon taking a new case, that feeling had vanished—replaced by anxiety far heavier than anything he had felt before.
Through the tangle of his thoughts, the shadow of a woman appeared unbidden.
"Where am I even supposed to find her…" Aron whispered, closing his eyes as if hoping the answer would appear on its own.
Eventually, he drifted into sleep right there in his chair, from midday into the early evening. The office lights remained on, casting a glow over the desk cluttered with files.
Unbeknownst to Aron, Victoria was already sitting across from him, leafing through the newest case files he had just received. Her eyes did not blink. Page after page was turned with quiet precision until, finally, the file was closed.
"You don't have to pretend you're asleep," Victoria said.
Aron's eyes slowly opened, meeting her gaze with a faint, tired smile.
"How did you know I was awake?"
"From your pulse," she replied.
"Wow… that's… kind of weird," Aron said, adjusting his posture in the chair. "Anyway, I want to say thank you. Because of you, I got my first win as a lawyer. I really appreciate it."
Victoria said nothing. Her gaze remained sharp, as if examining Aron from the outside in, weighing him down to his very core.
"He's really still alive," Victoria whispered to herself.
"So now," Aron continued, "just tell me what you want in return. If it's money… you'll have to wait until I get paid by my client."
"I don't need any of that," Victoria replied curtly. "You taking a new case?"
"Yes. And honestly, I regret it. The case is too complicated, and I have no experience investigating something like this."
"That's not a problem," Victoria said, rising from her chair. "I'll help you."
"Really?" Aron's face brightened immediately.
"Yes." Victoria stepped toward the door. "Come on. We're going to investigate now."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Aron didn't waste a moment. He stood up, his heart racing—not from fear, but because, for the first time since becoming a lawyer, he was about to conduct a homicide investigation himself.
**
"How can you even afford a place like this?" Victoria asked as they stepped out of Aron's office building.
"This is all I can afford. As a beginner, a small office is enough," Aron replied, hailing a taxi.
Victoria got in first, followed by Aron.
"Take us to Charles St at Bleecker St, Riverton Place Condominium," Aron instructed the driver.
The driver nodded, and the taxi started moving.
The ride was silent. Aron sat slightly awkward beside Victoria, wanting to make conversation but unsure how to start. The quiet stretched on until the taxi arrived at their destination.
The taxi stopped right in front of Riverton Place's entrance. After Aron paid the fare, they both got out.
"This condominium is pretty nice," Aron said, looking up at the building. Victoria was already standing in front of the elderly doorman.
"Hey! Come here quickly," Victoria called.
Aron lowered his head before hurrying to her side.
"Can I help you?" the doorman asked.
"I'm James Aron, attorney for Mr. Patrick Hayes, and this is my assistant," Aron said. "We need to go up to conduct an investigation in Mr. Hayes's unit."
"No problem. You two may enter," the doorman replied warmly.
"Before that, may I ask something?"
"Of course, go ahead."
"Why is there no CCTV in the lobby?"
The doorman sighed. "That's the condominium residents' request. They want privacy, so no CCTV is installed here."
"And last night? Who was manning the entrance?"
"I was on duty until midnight. After that, no one until seven in the morning," he answered.
"Did you notice anyone suspicious coming or going?"
The doorman shook his head. "No. Everyone entering and leaving was a resident."
Aron nodded in understanding. "Alright, that's all. Thank you."
"No problem," the doorman replied, opening the door and letting Aron and Victoria into the condominium.
"Wait." Aron stopped in his tracks. "I don't have the key to the unit."
"No need. The case is still fresh. There's surely a cop on duty."
"They'll let us in?"
"Of course. You're the lawyer."
Aron grinned. "I learned about this before… but I've forgotten most of it."
Victoria shook her head and continued walking toward the elevator.
"How do you know all this?" Aron asked as he pressed the elevator button.
"From movies."
"Oh… okay," Aron replied briefly, feeling slightly awkward.
The elevator doors opened. They stepped inside. Victoria immediately pressed the button for C11.
The atmosphere in the elevator mirrored the silence of the taxi earlier—quiet, yet tense. Aron remained silent, his mind filled with questions about the woman beside him. Yet Victoria's cold, unreadable expression made him hesitate to speak.
Finally, the elevator doors slid open…
They stepped out. Not far from the elevator, a police officer stood on guard. They walked past several doors before stopping in front of him.
"Sorry to bother you, officer. I'm James Aron, attorney for Mr. Patrick. I need to enter briefly to conduct an investigation," Aron said awkwardly, standing before the officer.
"No entry. Unless you have authorization from us or the court," the officer replied firmly.
"Do I need permission?" Aron asked, slightly confused.
"Yes, absolutely. You're a lawyer—you should know that," the officer said.
Victoria nudged Aron's shoulder lightly, then stepped in front of the officer. Her pupils widened, her gaze sharp and commanding.
"Let us in," she said.
In an instant, the officer's expression changed as if under a spell—his eyes unblinking, he merely nodded.
"Come in," Victoria instructed, without even looking back at Aron.
Aron furrowed his brow, staring in disbelief at the officer. He tried waving his hands in front of the cop, but there was no reaction.
"Hey, hurry up," Victoria urged.
"Y-yeah…" Aron stammered, ducking under the yellow tape and rushing in, his steps hurried.
"I've completely forgotten about investigative procedures," Aron muttered as he stepped behind Victoria.
"Don't touch anything in here," Victoria instructed, her eyes sweeping over the unit—luxurious furniture neatly arranged, every item in its place. Aron followed silently, not daring to ask about what had happened to the officer outside.
The living room looked undisturbed. No signs of struggle, no displaced objects. But as Victoria stepped toward the kitchen, she froze abruptly. Aron, walking too close, nearly bumped into her back.
"What is it?" Aron asked.
No answer.
Aron moved to stand beside her, and that's when he saw it.
Beneath the tabletop lay a small sculpture—white, shaped like a human body in a reclined position, with streaks of dried blood still clinging to the tiled floor. Two chairs were overturned, while the rest remained neatly in place, untouched. Other items too were undisturbed.
"T-The client's wife… she was lying here," Aron stammered. "The weapon was found on the victim's right side."
Victoria remained silent, lowering her knees slightly. Her gaze fixed on the bloodstain. She extended her index finger, touching the red surface. The tip of her nail scraped slightly.
Aron watched quietly, saying nothing, though he clearly saw Victoria lift the blood from her fingertip to her mouth.
Her eyes squeezed shut. Her brows furrowed and un-furrowed as her head tilted left, then slowly to the right. Several tense seconds passed before she opened her eyes and stood upright, as if she had just finished assessing something invisible to Aron.
"Your client's wife wasn't a good woman," Victoria finally said.
"What do you mean?" Aron asked, keeping his tone steady.
Victoria didn't answer immediately. She walked slowly along the kitchen cabinets, inspecting the upper shelves. Her steps stopped at the farthest cupboard. She opened it.
Aron observed quietly, not intervening.
Victoria shifted several containers out of the way before retrieving a small blue container hidden in the back.
"What's that you're taking?" Aron asked, watching her remove the lid.
"Take a look," she replied.
Aron leaned over, examining the contents. "Pills? What kind of pills are these?"
"Sleeping pills." Victoria set the container on the counter. "Like I said, your client's wife wasn't a good woman. Just like your fiancée."
"Hey, don't bring that up," Aron snapped.
Victoria only smiled faintly.