I spent three years undercover by Julian Thorne’s side, the son of a notorious crime boss, only to personally send him to prison. At the arrest scene, his eyes were bloodshot, fixed on my swollen belly. “What a brilliant strategy. Using our child to trap me.” “Since you love justice so much, then this child, tainted by a criminal’s blood, shouldn’t exist either.” He snatched a gun and, in front of every SWAT officer, shot me through the abdomen. That single shot severed every tie between us. After the false news of my death in the line of duty spread, Julian went completely insane in prison. When we met again, he was a condemned man awaiting execution, and I was the agent assigned to interrogate him. He stared at me, whole and unharmed, his laugh a broken, twisted sound, far more agonizing than a cry. “Serena, you made me suffer hell with your lies.” Three months after Julian’s arrest, the police interrogation hit a dead end. As the notorious kingpin of a massive crime syndicate that had wreaked havoc across the continent, he held the decryption key to a dark web trading chain worth billions. As long as he remained silent, that dirty money and the powerful figures protecting him would never be uncovered. The task fell to me. Because I was Julian’s only weakness, and the very person who pushed him into this hell. When I stood outside the interrogation room’s one-way glass, clutching a file, the sight within stole my breath. The once untouchable Julian, the powerful scion of a ruthless empire, who used to command the city with a whisper, always impeccably dressed in custom suits, now wore a rough prison uniform, his hands and feet bound by heavy shackles. He was skeletal, a ghost of his former self. His cheekbones jutted sharply, eyes sunken deep, and his jaw was covered in dark stubble. He slumped lifelessly in the metal chair, his hollow gaze fixed on a stain on the ceiling, like a walking corpse utterly devoid of soul. The guard told me that when Julian first arrived, he’d gone completely wild. He refused to eat, refused to sleep. Every night, he’d ram the walls like a wild animal, roaring a single name. “Serena.” That was my undercover name, Serena Reed. And he, the man who hated me most in this world, also loved me more than anyone. Later, the guard lied, telling him Serena was dead, her body cremated. Only then did Julian quiet down. From that day on, he became a mute, like a dead man. No matter how much they interrogated him, he gave no reaction. “Officer Reed, he’s completely unyielding. Are you sure about this?” Officer Mike asked, his voice laced with worry. I instinctively touched my flat stomach, where a grotesque bullet wound scar snaked across. Though long healed, it still ached faintly on rainy days. A chilling reminder of how utterly ruthless he was when he pulled that trigger. “Open it.” I adjusted the collar of my police uniform and pushed the door open. The heavy clang of the iron door didn’t get Julian’s attention. Not until I pulled out the chair opposite him and slammed a stainless-steel cup onto the table. The sharp clang echoed in the claustrophobic room. Julian finally stirred. Like a rusted machine, he slowly turned his neck, his gaze inching up from the floor. It landed on my police boots, then my trousers, finally settling on my bare, makeup-free face. In that instant. I heard the violent clatter of chains. The man, previously so lifeless, shot up from the chair like a corpse suddenly reanimated, slamming against the interrogation table’s barrier, ignoring the restraints of his handcuffs. “A ghost…” His hoarse, broken voice was laced with extreme terror and trembling. “Serena?” He stared at me, his eyes wide and bloodshot, seeming ready to burst from their sockets, a chaotic mix of emotions swirling within: Shock, wild joy, disbelief, and… an ocean of hatred. I sat down expressionlessly, opened my interrogation notebook, and spoke in a cold, professional tone: “Julian, I am Officer Serena Reed, assigned to your case.” “Now, let’s talk about that decryption key.” Julian froze as if struck by lightning, my voice calm to the point of being chilling. He reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch my face, but the iron bars between us cruelly blocked him. “Not dead…” He mumbled to himself, then let out a choked, guttural cackle, as if he’d heard the funniest joke. The laughter grew louder, more frantic, eerily piercing in the confined room. Tears streamed from his dry eyes, carving paths down his stubbled cheeks. “Not dead… You’re actually not dead!” “Serena! You’re actually alive!” He violently head-butted the iron bars, a loud bang resounding. Blood immediately welled from his forehead. “You lied to me! All of you lied to me!” “I thought I was suffering in hell, paying for my sins, all for you! And you? You were just watching me, laughing from the sidelines!” I watched him lose control. Three years ago, when I first went undercover, if I merely scalded my finger with hot water, his eyes would well up with genuine pain. Now, here he was, head gushing blood right in front of me, and all I wanted was for him to confess. “Julian, calm down.” I looked at him coldly. “My being alive… does that disappoint you?” Julian’s laughter instantly ceased. He fixed me with a dark, menacing stare, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Disappointed? No, Serena, why would I be disappointed?” “I was just thinking, since you’re not dead…” His gaze slowly dropped, falling to my flat stomach, and his eyes instantly filled with a bloodthirsty frenzy. “What about that abomination?” “That child, tainted by my criminal blood… is it dead?”
The air in the interrogation room seemed to freeze. My fingers tightened around the pen, knuckles white. That child. The one he’d personally snuffed out before it even had a chance to breathe, amidst a storm of bullets. I took a deep breath, meeting his challenging gaze, and forced a sarcastic smile. “Mr. Thorne, have you forgotten? You were the one who pulled the trigger.” “At the warehouse, in plain sight.” “Do you truly believe an unborn child could survive a Desert Eagle at point-blank range?” Julian’s pupils constricted violently. His facial muscles began to twitch uncontrollably. The veins on his hands, gripping the bars, bulged ominously, and blood seeped from beneath his fingernails from the sheer force. “Dead… Good, good riddance!” He gritted his teeth, as if chewing on someone’s bones. “Good riddance! That… thing never should have existed!” “Serena, you’re really something.” “To trap me, you even used your pregnancy as leverage.” “Watching me suffer hell over that bastard’s death, watching me grovel like a dog in this cell, repenting for you – did that give you some kind of sick satisfaction?” He spoke the most venomous words, yet he was trembling. I knew him too well. He was lying. He was using this extreme tactic to mask his inner collapse. Back in his empire, he’d genuinely looked forward to that child’s arrival. He would whisper stories to my belly late at night, pore over dictionaries for names, and even decorated the nursery himself. But now, he could only call the life he once cherished above all else an “abomination.” Because only then could he clutch onto his last shred of pitiful dignity in the face of this brutal truth. “Julian, enough with the reminiscing.” I didn’t want to dwell on the past with him. I tapped the table. “Where is the key?” The frenzy on Julian’s face gradually faded, replaced by a chilling stillness. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, adopting a posture of refusal to communicate. “You want the key? Fine.” He spoke nonchalantly. “Beg me.” I frowned. “Do you really think you’re in a position to bargain right now?” “I’m about to die. What position do I have to lose?” Julian sneered, opening his eyes, his gaze lightly scanning my body. “Serena, you know me. I respond to kindness, not force.” “Back when you were chasing intel, you weren’t afraid to go all out, were you?” “Why put on that uniform and suddenly become so high and mighty?” He leaned forward, lowering his voice, his tone intimate and crude. “Just like before, call me ‘Jules,’ sweet-talk me until I’m happy, and maybe I’ll tell you.” I fought the urge to throw the file in his face. I knew he was doing it on purpose. He was trying to provoke me, to humiliate me, to reclaim the control he’d lost. “Julian, you’re disgusting.” I spat the words out coldly. Julian’s smile faltered, then he laughed even harder. “Yeah, I’m a worm in the mud. You’re the one who decided to get involved.” “Officer Reed, if you find me so disgusting, then get out.” “Don’t expect to pry a single word from me.” With that, he clamped his mouth shut. No matter how much I pressed, it was like shouting into the void. The first interrogation ended fruitlessly. By the time I walked out of the interrogation room, my back was soaked with sweat. Though I’d appeared calm and composed in there, I knew facing Julian was never easy. Three years, living side-by-side, caught in that tangled web of genuine and fabricated emotions… it was like a festering wound. Even after I cut it out, the scars remained, deep and undeniable. Back in my office, Captain Miller walked over, handing me a mug of hot water. “Didn’t get anything?” I nodded. “His psychological defenses are impenetrable, and he’s completely given up on life. He’s a dead end.” Captain Miller sighed. “He’s a tough nut to crack. Command gave us a deadline: we need that key within two weeks, or the dark web data will reset, and all our leads will vanish.” “I know. I’ll find a way.” I rubbed my throbbing temples. Over the next few days, I interrogated Julian daily. But he seemed determined to outlast me, offering only sarcastic remarks or silently meditating. Until the fifth day. I changed my strategy. Since force wouldn’t work, I decided to hit him where it hurt: his heart. I specifically wore an off-white dress – the same one I’d worn the first time we met. When I entered the interrogation room, Julian’s gaze flickered noticeably. But he quickly masked it, scoffing, “Are you trying to play dress-up, Officer Reed? Too bad. Wearing that dress now just makes you look even more hypocritical.” I ignored his taunts and took a thermos from my bag, placing it on the table. Opening the lid, the rich aroma of hearty chicken and rice soup filled the air. Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed instinctively. It was his favorite. Back then, whenever he’d overdo it at his lavish business dinners and upset his stomach, I’d make this soup for him. “The cafeteria food not to your liking?” I ladled a bowl and pushed it towards the bars. “Have some.” Julian stared at the bowl for a long time, his eyes unreadable. Just when I thought he’d refuse, he suddenly reached out, grabbed the bowl, and tipped it back, draining it in one go. Finished, he slammed the bowl onto the floor. Fragments scattered. “Serena, you think a bowl of soup will buy me?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes vicious. “Have you forgotten who put that hole in your stomach?” “Aren’t you afraid I might have poisoned the soup?” I asked calmly. “Poison?” Julian suddenly laughed, tears streaming down his face. “Serena, you underestimate me.” “Dying by your hand… that’s a better end than those cold, brutal interrogations.” With that, he suddenly reached through the bars and grabbed my wrist. His grip was astonishingly strong, and the iron shackles clanged harshly against the bars. “Julian! Let go!” The nearby guard immediately rushed forward to intervene. But Julian clung to me fiercely, his eyes bloodshot, his voice a hoarse whisper, dripping with raw emotion. “Serena, I just have one question.” “These three years… did you feel anything for me, even for a second?” “Even one second, was it real?” His nails dug agonizingly into my flesh, as if a single ‘yes’ from me would give him permission to die right then and there. I looked at his desperate, pleading eyes, and a sharp, icy pang shot through my heart. But I knew I was a police officer, and he was a criminal. Any wavering would be a desecration of the badge. “No.” I met his gaze, speaking each word distinctly. “From the very beginning, I approached you only to catch you.” “Every single minute, every second, was an act.” “Julian, I never loved you. Not once.” The light in his eyes, a flicker that had momentarily returned, was snuffed out completely. He seemed to lose his very spine, slumping back, his grip loosening. “Good… Good, ‘not once’ you say.” He lowered his head, his shoulders trembling violently, letting out a series of choked, mournful sounds. “Serena, you are truly cruel.” “In that case, don’t blame me for what comes next.” He suddenly lifted his head, a twisted smile appearing on his face. “You want the key, do you?” “Unless… you let me see that scar.” “I want to see with my own eyes what that bullet, fired by me, truly did to you.”
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