LOST in my thoughts, Adel's explanation lingered in my mind. Beneath his calm reasoning, there had been something else—something almost… sad.
For a moment, a thought brushed against me.
That could have been me.
A finger suddenly tapped my shoulder.
"We should probably head out now," Adel said. "We're going to the morgue."
I jumped slightly. I hadn't heard his footsteps at all. Thank God I had kept a safe distance from the window—otherwise I might have joined Mr. Kamel in the afterlife.
"Careful, rascal," he added with a smug smile. "We don't need another body."
I blinked a few times before following him toward the elevator, both of us pulling off our gloves as we walked.
"So," I said after a moment, "since you're a detective… why didn't you investigate the tragedy?"
"You mean Mr. Kamel's son's disappearance?"
He paused before answering.
"Actually, I was abroad in France at the time. Once I finished my work there, I returned with the intention of investigating the boy's disappearance."
His voice lowered slightly.
"But instead, the head of the family is dead. So for now, my focus is on this case."
He glanced at the elevator numbers slowly changing above the door.
"You see… the moment I landed, I was greeted by the news of Mr. Kamel's so-called suicide."
I hummed quietly, still lost in my thoughts.
"So," Adel said after a moment, "why did you become a reporter?"
"Well," I replied, "working in crime investigation was kind of my childhood dream."
He tilted his head slightly before speaking again, his tone calm—almost too trusting for his own good.
"Then why didn't you become a detective?"
That question struck a nerve. My voice rose slightly before I could stop myself.
"Why are you so insistent on turning me into a detective?"
"My apologies," he said gently. "I'm only pointing out a talent I noticed… and a sharp mind I admire."
Such smooth words.
They made me feel guilty about the sharpness of my own.
"Sorry," I muttered. "It just brings back old hopes."
"Hopes?" he asked. "What kind of hopes?"
"The kind where you believe something is your destiny," I said quietly, "but you end up giving it up to please the people you care about."
"Your parents?"
"No," I said flatly. "They died. That was the first blow to those hopes."
He hesitated before asking again.
"Then who?"
"My extended family."
The elevator doors slid open.
We walked straight to his sleek black car waiting outside the building. Both of us settled into the back seat as Adel calmly gave the driver the coordinates.
As the car pulled away, I looked back through the window at the towering building—the silent witness to a killing that already seemed far more complicated than it first appeared.
Who could have done something so cruel?
And the more important question…
Why?
If the killer was someone close to the victim, then the possibilities grew even darker.
Could it be Adel himself?
No… that couldn't be right.
My gaze drifted toward the Nile. Feluccas swayed gently on the dark water while the streets buzzed with late-night life.
Cairo moved on as if nothing had happened.
I turned my head toward Adel. He seemed lost in thought, his expression focused.
If he were the killer, he wouldn't need to think this hard. Everything would already be perfectly arranged—like a chessboard or a carefully rehearsed play.
"So," I finally asked, breaking the silence, "who do you think the killer is?"
He tapped his knee thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on me as if trying to read straight through my thoughts.
"Well… the killer is unlikely to be a random employee or some intern," he said calmly.
"More likely someone from the inner circle. Perhaps the elder son. A senior manager. One of the bodyguards. Or even a trusted assistant."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"Those are the people I'll focus on during the investigation."
Then he added quietly,
"But first… we examine the body."
He leaned back slightly before speaking again.
"Remember this, Lillian. Even if the victim is silent forever… even if witnesses are bribed… even if every clue disappears…"
He raised a finger slightly, as if delivering a lecture.
"The body will still reveal things you would never imagine."
"That's why I admire forensic medicine."
The way he said it sounded less like a conversation and more like a lesson.
As if he had already decided I was worth teaching.
That I was his student.
Part of me wanted to argue—to push back against his quiet certainty.
But the hope inside me—the excitement I had tried to bury for years—silenced those thoughts.
I nodded instead.
Killer or detective…
It didn't matter.
For now—
I would learn whatever I could.