At Kandal II, Rith and Dara sat side by side in Dara's grandparents' house. Uncle hung up the phone after speaking with Mr. Heng.
Dara, his eyes wide with disbelief, absorbed the weight of the revelation—that Heng had orchestrated the closure of the case.
His voice trembled, a mix of shock and sorrow. "He tried to close the case... and now he wants you to stop the police from reinvestigating? Uncle, did I hear that right?" Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
Rith's face fell, sorrow deepening in his eyes as he searched for the right words.
"I'm so sorry, Dara... Heng... I always thought of him as family, as brother in law. He even gave me money to continue the construction after demanding all your mother's belongings. I never imagined..." His voice faltered, filled with regret. "I'm so sorry."
Dara stepped out of the house, his heart heavy, and Sethya sat beneath a mango tree, waiting patiently.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Dara shook his head, unable to find the words.
"Does anything matter?" he pressed, concern lined his tone.
"Yes," Dara finally admitted.
"You want to go back to the city now?"
"I have to meet Visal! Let's head to the coffee shop at the market."
"Okay."
Sethya nodded, and they both made their way to the car.
As the engine roared to life, Rith stood at the door of the house, watching the car drive away, his face clouded with a mix of thoughts he couldn't quite untangle.
***
At the coffee shop, Visal sat across from Dara, his discomfort palpable. With Seth present, he seemed hesitant to speak freely.
"I found a suspicious connection," Visal began, his voice low. "Between Mr. Rith—your uncle—and Mr. Long, the worker who gave the statement the day your mom died."
Dara leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "What was that?"
Visal hesitated, glancing around before answering. "I can't tell you now. Only at the police station, when the time comes."
Dara raised an eyebrow, his expression sharpening. "Oh, really?"
Visal leaned forward, his voice steady. "Two police stations are now working together to press Monica in her next interrogation. If she has a strong alibi or evidence in her favor, it could shift things, as right now, our statement is too weak to hold against her."
Dara's eyes darkened with concern. "Is there any witness to help us?"
Visal hesitated, then slowly shook his head. The weight of the silence seemed to deepen Dara's hopelessness, but Visal gave a firm, reassuring nod. "Don't give up. Stay strong."
Dara took a slow breath. "What has Nida found so far?"
"She's been analyzing Monica's texts, a full one, along with those from others in your mother's chat room. I believe she's close to organizing everything and will have something for us soon."
"Okay, thank you."
Visal nodded. "You're welcome. I'll update our progress in the group chat. Make sure to check it and be prepared. We still don't know what cards Monica and her father are holding."
"Noted."
***
As they drove back to the city, Sethya's hands gripped the wheel, his eyes flicking nervously between the road and Dara, who sat beside him, slumped and distant. Dara's silence was suffocating, his gaze lost in the darkened window. Sethay, uneasy, broke the silence.
"How did you meet that Visal, by the way?"
Dara's voice was barely a whisper, his head resting against the seat. "He's a police officer here. I... I got news about my mom from the insurance she had when she was alive."
Sethay furrowed his brow, his suspicions piqued. "That's strange."
"Why?"
"The insurance companies aren't known for handing out favors. They don't want to lose money."
"Some companies are ethical. Kind, even."
Sethay shook his head. "I get that, but it's still odd."
"Yes, it is. But at least she saved my life... and she's the light that will lead me to justice for my mom. She studied law, was kind-hearted. That's why she did it. Kindness is rare, you know?"
"Yes, kind people are rare, but you can't trust just anyone blindly," Seth said, his voice laced with concern.
"What if she's using this opportunity to manipulate you for money? And Visal—didn't you mention he knew a woman you knew?"
Dara's eyes widened. "Yes, that's Chanida, from LKS Insurance, working with the police on my mom's case so far."
Seth's grip on the wheel tightened. "Oh God, Dara, be careful! What if they're both scheming against you?"
"Visal is a police officer," Dara replied, trying to reassure him.
Seth fell silent, his focus returning to the road as he gripped the wheel tightly, leaving Dara's words hanging in the air, unresolved.
Dara's mind raced. The three of them had found nothing to confirm the theory that his mother had been murdered, while the lack of evidence only made him start to suspect Visal and Chanida now.
Yet, Heng's strange behavior and Monica's conversation with his mother sent his thoughts spiraling in a different direction. Dara felt himself unraveling, consumed by doubt and confusion.
***
The black luxury car sat silently along a quiet urban street, its sleek exterior reflecting the dim light of the somber afternoon.
Monica was alone, her head resting against the driver's seat, eyes closed as she fought to regain her composure. Her mind had been a storm of thoughts, but slowly, it began to quiet.
When the storm within her finally settled, she shifted in her seat, the tension in her body easing.
Reaching for her bag, she rummaged through it, her fingers brushing against something inside.
She seized the locked book, deftly unlocking it to reveal a concealed table beneath. With a swift motion, she pressed the hidden button, activating the mechanism to enter her password.
She opened a Telegram chat, scanning through past conversations before typing, "Are you in your office?"
It took about five minutes before a reply appeared from someone named AC.
"Yes, I am. Would you like to meet?"
"Yes!" Monica quickly typed.
"I'm in a meeting. What time do you prefer?" came the response.
"When you're done, meet me at the same place. I'll wait there."
"I'm so sorry for making you wait, sister!" AC apologized.
Monica didn't bother responding. With a determined look, she turned off her tablet and drove away.
***
At villa, Heng sat on the sofa, his anger palpable, while Nuth worked to soothe him. Another housemate brought over a glass of water, and Nuth gestured for her to leave it on the table and step away.
"Should we call the police?" Nuth asked, her voice filled with concern.
"No," Heng snapped. "It'll only make things worse."
"But where did she go? She was sick, sir."
"Call Dalin," Heng replied sharply. "See if she's okay to come back now."
Nuth nodded. As she reached for her phone, Heng stopped her. "No, not yet."
She paused, confusion in her eyes. "Yes?"
"Call Monica," Heng said.
"But her phone is off."
"Try again. Call her until evening."
Nuth hesitated, anxiety creeping in. Monica had stormed off, leaving in anger, and Nuth scared something bad had happened. But Heng, ever the understanding father, knew his daughter's heart better than anyone.
***
The riverbank bustled with life. Some strolled for exercise, others pedaled along the path, while small groups laughed and chatted.
The air was filled with the scent of food from nearby stalls, where people gathered to eat. Children peddled homemade cakes, and women walked toward fortune tellers seated under a tree in the riverside garden.
Monica, sunglasses perched on her nose, sat in the quiet of a hotel space, drinking latte macchiato as her gaze fixed on the river as she waited for AC.
"Sister Monica!"
A soft voice called from behind. Monica turned, her expression lighting with a faint smile.
"You're here? Come, sit," she said, removing her sunglasses and gesturing to the chair beside her.
The young woman who approached was none other than An Chanida. She took a seat, her brows knit with concern.
"How have you been? You don't look well," Nida asked gently.
"I'm… not really fine," Monica admitted, her voice low. "Let's order something to eat first and talk after."
"Yes."
***
As Nida placed all the documents on the table before Monica, she said with a hint of frustration,
"These are everything we've managed to gather from Visal and Dara so far. Honestly, I don't think Dara's going to find the killer. None of this is strong enough to hold up against anyone—least of all you."
Monica's eyes darkened, her voice steady but resolute.
"I can't just let it go, Nida. My father is taking dangerous steps to keep me from uncovering the truth. I can't let him get away with involving himself in corruption, bribing the chief of police, and fabricating evidence to shield the real killer."
Nida tilted her head, disbelief evident in her voice. "What if they find someone else to be their scapegoat—or worse, turn you into one—before we uncover the truth?"
Monica's jaw tightened, and she shook her head. "I'm being set up, Nida. Someone wanted me tangled in this mess to cover their tracks, and that's exactly why we have to push back. Dara has every right to fight for justice for his mother. If I keep standing in his way, I'll look guilty—like I'm the one with blood on my hands."
Nida drew a deep breath, steadying herself.
"Visal is working on finding more clues," she said firmly. "He'll share it in our group soon."
Monica's jaw tightened. "I can't stay passive anymore, Nida."
"If you get directly involved, do you really think it'll help?" Nida asked cautiously.
Monica's voice trembled, her resolve cracking. "I have to save my dad. I promised I wouldn't let him get caught up in something so vile. But…" Her words faltered, the rest caught in her throat, an unspoken fear she wasn't ready to share.
Nida stepped closer and placed a steady hand on her shoulder, her touch a mix of strength and solace. "It'll end soon, sister," she said softly. "I'm with you."
Monica nodded, her resolve hardening. "I want to bring this case to light. But I'll need you to stay strong and help me through it."
"I will," Chanida whispered.
***