While Roxy remained in custody, Stalin refused to sit quietly.
He knew his friend would never harm his own father.
Someone was manipulating the entire situation.
Standing outside the police station, Stalin made a decision.
He would fight back.
The first thing he did was call someone he trusted.
"Lovely," he said when the call connected. "I need your help."
Lovely was a lawyer—and also one of Stalin's closest friends. They had met years ago through music, sharing the same passion for performing.
When she heard the situation, she didn't hesitate.
"I'm coming," she said.
Within hours, Lovely arrived at the station and immediately began working on Roxy's case. She reviewed the arrest report, challenged the evidence, and pressured the officers for proper legal procedure.
Her confidence unsettled the police.
By the end of the night, she had achieved something important.
Bail.
When Roxy finally stepped out of the police station, the cool night air hit his face like freedom.
For the first time in hours, he could breathe.
"Thank you," he said quietly to Lovely.
She smiled slightly. "Don't thank me yet. This case is far from over."
At that moment, a car horn sounded nearby.
Reality quickly returned.
Someone had framed him for murder.
And they were still out there.
Later that night, while Roxy remained hidden at home, Stalin carried out a dangerous plan.
Using the map Roxy had given him earlier, he quietly entered the college campus.
The entire place was dark and silent.
Every step he took echoed across the empty hallways.
Finally, he reached the corridor containing the student lockers.
His heart pounded as he searched the row of lockers carefully.
Then he saw it.
Smily's locker.
Her number was still written on the metal door.
For a moment, Stalin hesitated.
Then he pulled out a small tool and carefully began working on the lock.
Minutes passed.
Sweat rolled down his forehead.
Finally—
Click.
The locker opened.
Stalin slowly pulled the door open and looked inside.
His breath caught in his throat.
What he saw inside stunned him completely.
Papers.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And something else.
Evidence.
Evidence that could expose everything.
Stalin's hands trembled as he stared at it.
The truth behind Smily's death was finally beginning to reveal itself.
But the more he looked, the more terrifying the truth became.
This wasn't just a crime.
It was something far bigger.
And now that Stalin had found the evidence…
He had just become part of the target.