Chapter 2 Shattered Moment

**Chapter : Shattered Moment**

Nalisha

I sat there,I don't remember how long , numb to everything around me. Looking around it seemed like no tragedy had occured , the world had moved on, officers talking in hushed tones, neighbors gawking from a distance. But I was frozen in place, trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

At some point, they brought me to the station. I don't remember walking there. I just remember the harsh glow of lights, the cold metal of the chair beneath me. A cup of untouched coffee sat on the table in front of me, its steam curling into nothingness.

Detective Harris, the man who had stopped me at the scene, sat across from me. His tired eyes studied me, filled with something between sympathy and hesitation."Nalisha, I know this is difficult," he said, his voice softer than before. "But I need you to think okay ,focus. Did your father ever mention anything to you that seemed unusual ? Did he ever seem worried about anything?"

I shook my head slowly. "No... I mean, my dad worked a lot. He was always looking into things, always serious. But that was normal for him."

"Looking into what?" Harris leaned forward slightly.

"I...uum .. I don't know. He never really talked about his work with me." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Was there something I had missed? Had my father been in danger, and I was too wrapped up in my own world to see it?

Harris exchanged a glance with another officer standing by the door. "Your father was a journalist, correct? An investigative reporter?"

I nodded, my stomach twisting tighter. "Yeah. He wrote about corruption, crime, big stories no one else wanted to touch."

Harris sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Nalisha, we think your father may have been working on something dangerous. Something that got him-got all of them-killed."

The words hit me like ice water. I shook my head, refusing to believe it. "No. That doesn't make sense. Why would someone... why would they kill my whole family? My little brother-he was just a kid!"

Harris didn't answer right away. Instead, he slid a small evidence bag across the table. Inside was a torn piece of paper, scribbled with my father's handwriting. I recognized it instantly.

"If something happens to me, find the truth."

My breath hitched. My hands trembled as I reached for the bag, pressing my fingers against the plastic as if I could feel the weight of my father's warning through it.

Find the truth.

Something inside me shifted. The grief was still there, a dark void threatening to consume me, but beneath it, something else burned.

Determination.

"What was he investigating?" I asked, my voice steadier than before.

Harris hesitated. "We don't know yet. But if your father left a message like this... whatever it was, it was big."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. My father had always been careful. He wouldn't have risked everything without a reason. Someone had taken them from me, and I wouldn't rest until I found out why.

The moment it shattered wasn't when I saw the police tape. It wasn't when they told me my family was gone.

It was right now. In this cold, sterile room, staring at my father's final words.

And I knew, without a doubt, that I wouldn't stop until I uncovered the truth.