A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 62 | seeking for surveillance

"No more lies."

I retorted again and again, as many times as I could, so it would stick.

And then, I said it one last time, my mind idling. "No more lies."

This was the last time I was telling a lie to Dwain.

For the sake of love, I'd lied to escape Horton's mansion.

Why?

Tonight was very pivotal to the success of my plan.

Yes, I had a plan, a dangerous one.

And I'd vowed to follow through to the end.

If it wasn't for the lie, I would have been somewhere in the mansion dying of guilt, cursing, and crying myself to sleep.

I gulped.

The last thing I wanted tonight was to get caught.

"No more lies, Ellis."

The evening sun was casting long shadows across the brick pavement, creating a sense of foreboding that matched my emotions.

My chest constricted as I approached the luxurious hotel Elisabeth talked about.

My outfit, a flowing dress in a soft pastel color, adorned with intricate patterns, reflected the complexity of my thoughts.

The delicate fabric swayed with each step, mirroring my uncertain eyes, trembling hands, and hesitant footsteps.

Ahead of me stood the place where Elisabeth had spent a night with Dwain and claimed to have been raped the next morning.

Though Dwain had already clarified the doubts, saying he was innocent and that nothing had happened that fateful night, Elisabeth refused to believe his side of the story without tangible proof.

I was here to get proof.

I was here to prove Dwain's innocence and free him of Elisabeth's revenge.

Why?

By so doing, I hoped for Elisabeth's cooperation.

Elisabeth would understand my sincere feelings for Dwain and allow me to tell him the truth about my identity.

If Dwain's innocence were proven, Elisabeth wouldn't be a threat to my relationship.

Elisabeth's grudge against Dwain was a ticking bomb.

I knew it could explode at any time.

And I didn't want to bear the consequences.

So, I chose to sacrifice myself for the sake of love.

I was giving myself a chance to love, a chance to start over without lies.

Nestled amidst gleaming skyscrapers, the opulent grandeur of, "Serenity Inn," undeniably exuded an aura of power and wealth.

Its towering facade, adorned with glistening glass panels, stood as a testament to its dominance in the realm of luxurious hospitality.

Its exotic design and extravagant decor whispered tales of secrets hidden within its walls, secrets of that famous night that became a mystery.

I stood outside the grand entrance of the hotel, its grandeur exuding extra power, blood-stained money, strict dominance, and recalcitrant arrogance.

A lump built in my throat.

Should I have stayed home?

Was it a good idea to show up here?

Should I have called Dwain?