Chapter 10 Your Grandmother Is Dead!

Elin woke up in agony, her head, neck, and arms swathed in tight bandages that pinched her skin, and every slight movement provoked a sharp, searing pain.

The sterile, cold walls of the detention center loomed over her, a stark reminder of her grim reality.

A stern-faced police officer clanked into the room, his boots echoing off the hard floor as he slid a tray of nondescript food through the slot. His voice was gruff as he announced, "You're charged with the attempted murder of Dean Knight, the CEO of Infinity Group. Just sit tight until your court summons."

Elin cursed under her breath, regretting her oversight with the car that allowed Dean to slip away.

Determined not to just sit and wait for her fate, she called out to the officer, "I've got to make a call and hire a lawyer to handle my defense."

The officer shot her a dismissive sneer and sauntered away, leaving her pleas hanging in the air.

Late into the night, when the corridors had quieted and the guards were less vigilant, the heavy door creaked open. Two women, their expressions hardened and eyes cold, were shoved into the room, their handcuffs removed with a loud clink.

They surveyed Elin with undisguised hostility, and she instinctively recoiled, her senses heightened.

As the night deepened, exhaustion overtook her, and Elin succumbed to a restless, troubled sleep.

Suddenly, a vice-like grip on her injured arm yanked her from her slumber. Her mouth was swiftly covered, stifling her gasps.

The harsh whisper of one woman cut through the darkness, her tone mocking and cruel. "Don't take it personally; we're just following orders!" She slapped Elin hard across the face, her smile twisted in malice. "We were told to enjoy ourselves with you-just make sure you're still breathing when it's over!"

Dean wanted her life crushed out, leaving nothing but silence.

Elin's eyes ignited with seething rage as she fought back with desperate vigor.

With a swift motion, she drove her knee into one of the women's stomach, causing her to buckle over in excruciating pain, gasping for air.

As Elin struggled to rise, a searing pain exploded at the back of her skull. The other woman had seized her hair, delivering a series of harsh slaps, each blow reigniting the throbbing agony of her existing wounds. The tormentor's fingers cruelly pinched her fresh wound, drawing more blood.

With a pained groan, Elin's strength ebbed away, and darkness claimed her consciousness.

Since their confinement in the detention room, the routine checks by officers had ceased. Now, they merely dropped off meals and departed, neglecting the sight of Elin sprawled helplessly on the cold floor.

Days of relentless abuse had disfigured her once recognizable features.

Her bandages, stiff with dried blood, clung painfully to her skin. Her assailants had taken to prodding her throat with a toothbrush, turning even the simple act of swallowing into a bloody ordeal, robbing her of her voice.

On that grim day, after enduring yet another bout of cruelty, Elin's vision swam before her.

Collapsing to the floor, she lay broken, the distant echo of high heels on tile barely perceptible over the ringing in her ears.

"Look at this mess. Who turned Elin into a bloody punching bag?" The words dripped with malice as the woman crouched down, her hand gently caressing Elin's swollen cheek before abruptly pinching it with a vicious twist.

"Ugh..." Elin recoiled, her body curling into itself as she trembled with pain.

Watching Elin teeter on the edge of death, Camila stood by with a smirk curling her lips, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.

She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper through the cold iron bars. "It makes me sick how you were born into wealth, surrounded by luxury and endless happiness! Now look at you-everything you cherished is gone. The man you love belongs to me now, and together, we've built the family you dreamed of. Pathetic, isn't it?"

In a sudden blaze of defiance, Elin lunged forward and bit down fiercely on Camila's outstretched finger.

Her teeth sank deep, sharp and unrelenting.

Alarmed, two guards in the detention room sprang into action, dragging Elin back as they delivered sharp slaps to her face, while Camila struggled, yelping in pain as blood began to ooze from her wounded finger.

"Elin, you fucking bitch!" Camila hissed, fumbling in her bag for tissues to stem the bleeding.

Once her finger stopped bleeding, Camila approached the iron bars again, her voice tinged with cruel delight. "Since it's Dean's birthday, I figured it wouldn't be fair to celebrate without you. So, I brought you a present."

She pulled a photo from her bag, holding it up for Elin to see with a dramatic flourish.

The photo depicted Paula, her hands clutched to her chest, eyes wide and vacant, the life seemingly drained from her pupils.

Elin's breath hitched as she stared at the image, a mixture of horror and disbelief washing over her face.

"Yes, your grandmother is dead!" Camila declared, shoving the photo through the bars, forcing it into Elin's trembling hands.

"She was so overwhelmed by your alleged attempt on Dean's life and your looming death sentence that her heart just couldn't bear it. I thought you'd appreciate seeing her final moments-captured just for you."

"You're a liar..." Elin's voice was barely a whisper, her words choked by the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Memories of Paula, healthier and smiling just days before, flashed through her mind. No fucking way! This couldn't be real!

Camila's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "I never joke about things that matter."

No, it couldn't be real.

A sudden memory flashed in Elin's mind-the phone number Josh had slipped her, a beacon of hope. With renewed vigor, she struggled against the grip of the two women flanking her. In a swift, desperate move, she lunged, seizing one by the throat.

She knew if she wanted to bring someone down, the neck was the perfect target!