We reached the police station, and the moment we stepped inside, we heard the commotion.
Not the usual background noise you'd expect—the kind you learn to ignore.
No.
This one demanded attention.
And the cause of it?
Our suspect.
Adel had already warned me on the way here—he was the volatile type.A ticking bomb.
An ambitious employee who had worked for the company for years…yet always on edge.
The police had barely managed to contain him, forcing him into the interrogation room.
And inside—
Adel was already there.
Waiting.
Bored.
He leaned back in his chair, swinging slightly, as if this were nothing more than mild entertainment.
I stood beside Charles, watching everything unfold from behind the glass.
Then my attention shifted back to the suspect.
He was already spiraling—
"I don't understand why I'm here!" he snapped, his voice sharp, unstable.
And he hadn't even sat down yet.
On the other hand—
Adel was the complete opposite.
Calm. Controlled.
Terrifying.
"Would you take a seat, Mr. Mansour?" he said, his voice steady—almost polite.
But there was something underneath it.Something… nerve-wracking.
The man clicked his tongue, clearly on the verge of bursting.
"I told you—I'm not the murderer! Why am I even here?!"
A smirk tugged at Adel's lips.
"What's so amusing, brat?" the man snapped.
And just like that—
the smirk disappeared.
Adel leaned forward abruptly, closing his notebook with a sharp thud that echoed through the room.
"Perhaps…" he said quietly, his face inches away now,"…because I never said it was murder."
Silence.
The shift was instant.
The man's face, flushed red just seconds ago, drained into a ghostly white.
His hands began to tremble.
Across the glass, I could almost feel it—
the moment he realized his mistake.
Meanwhile, Adel loosened his tie with slow, deliberate ease…then leaned back in his chair, watching.
Observing.
Like a predator enjoying the unraveling of its prey.
The man tried to speak—tried to recover—
but all that came out were broken, scattered sounds.His teeth clattered against each other.
"T-That's not… what I—what I meant—"
"Hmm?" Adel tilted his head slightly, voice laced with mockery.
"Use your words properly, Mr. Mansour."
Silence stretched across the room.
Everyone held their breath—Charles, the policemen… even me.
For a moment, it felt like time had stopped.
The suspect was no longer in control.
If anything—
he had already stepped onto Adel's chessboard.
And there was no easy way out.
Adel sat there, casually playing with a pen between his fingers, his gaze slowly moving up and down the suspect as if assessing him.
"Didn't you hurry me all the way here?" Adel said coldly.
He looked… like another definition of scary.
The suspect swallowed hard, lowering his gaze to the ground. Sweat began to form on his forehead.
"I'm sure you didn't bring me all the way here just to enjoy this silence, hmm?" Adel continued.
Then—
clack.
He tossed the pen onto the metal table.
The sound echoed sharply through the room.
I flinched.
The suspect flinched too.
Charles swallowed hard, visibly nervous.
Adel's presence filled the room completely—overwhelming, suffocating. It felt as if even the air itself couldn't contain it.
Then Adel stood.
He walked behind the suspect's chair with slow, measured steps.
Leaning down, he brought his mouth close to the man's ear and whispered something low enough that only the two of them could hear.
Whatever it was—
it drained the color from the suspect's face.
The furious man from moments ago now looked like he had seen something far worse than fear.
Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as his complexion turned an unnatural shade of white.
"I'm not the killer… I swear… I swear…" he kept repeating, his voice breaking.
Adel stepped back calmly, returning to the wall and leaning against it—the same position he had once taken in the victim's office.
The suspect didn't dare turn around.
For his own sake.
Adel's gaze remained fixed on him, sharp and unblinking—like daggers aimed at the back of his neck.
"I suggest you stop wasting both of our time," Adel said coolly."Speak."
"The renovation process…" he said in a shaky whisper, already whimpering.
Adel allowed him to continue—silently extracting every possible drop of information.
"It was divided between me, Haitham, and Sameh."
"What about it?" Adel asked, sounding uninterested.
He clearly already knew the answer.Still, he was dragging it out.
"I don't like how you're being forced to continue," Adel said coldly. "So you'd better speak on your own—and you'd better not utter a single lie."
Mansour, the older man, fidgeted nervously in his chair.
"But I already answered your question…" his voice trembled.
Adel stepped closer, still standing behind him, then slammed his hand against the steel table.
The sound echoed sharply.
The suspect swallowed his pride.
"I ordered you to explain everything in detail."
"W—well…" Mansour stammered. "I was presenting an idea in Mr. Kamel's office when Sameh burst in and demanded to speak to his father alone. So I left… but as I closed the door, I heard raised voices."
"Are you sure?"
Mansour nodded quickly.
"When was that?"
"I think… right before the accident."
Before the accident.
Questions began forming in my mind. I flipped through the pages I was holding.
Yes—Sameh had claimed he was at a restaurant with his wife.
And if we asked his spouse… she would undoubtedly support her husband.
Which meant—
one of them was lying.
Adel knew it too.
I could see it in the subtle curve of his dark grin.
Then suddenly—
the older man suffered a diabetic stroke.
His body began convulsing in the chair, likely overwhelmed by the stress of the interrogation.
The interrogation was immediately dismissed.
Adel stepped back as the police officers rushed in and escorted Mansour to a nearby hospital.
Outside the room, Adel exited calmly.
He spoke to Charles in a professional tone.
"Make sure you confirm Sameh's whereabouts by the next time we meet at my office. Also—order double surveillance on Mr. Mansour."