"I might have killed someone!"
"This is a setup!"
"I've called 911, they'll be here soon. I need you to contact the company's legal team immediately!"
"Tell my father to use all resources. We must suppress this matter. It cannot affect our family."
Her hand holding the phone trembled slightly. Her eyes showed a hint of panic, yet her voice was exceptionally calm.
Her name was Winnie Pritzker, the eldest daughter of the Pritzker Family.
She oversaw the family's hundreds of chain hotels and real estate properties in America.
She never could have imagined that someone would set her up using such methods.
"Enrico, is this your doing? How despicable!"
Winnie tried to calm her emotions, her gaze shifting to the messy bed a few meters away.
On that bed lay a naked male corpse.
A fruit knife was plunged into the corpse's chest, part of the sheet and mattress stained red with blood.
Her head splitting with pain, she lifted her wristwatch.
22:57.
She shook her head hard, only remembering that a Pritzker client had arranged to meet at a nightclub that evening, and she had a drink while waiting for them...
What happened afterward, Winnie couldn't remember at all.
She didn't know how she got to this hotel, nor why there was a dead man here.
Looking around, this was clearly a very cheap hotel.
There was no bedside lamp, the curtains were torn, and a metal-framed bed with a thin mattress stood in the middle.
Several cowboy-style posters hung on the somewhat mottled walls, their edges curling up and spotted with mildew.
The wall-mounted radiator was very noisy, emitting a terrifying whirring sound.
The small room was filled with the thick smell of blood, which couldn't mask the penetrating musty odor.
Hearing the faint sound of sirens approaching, Winnie didn't think about leaving.
Perhaps the person who set this up wanted her to flee so the NYPD would hunt her down across the city.
Winnie pushed open the creaking window, gazing expressionlessly at the brilliant lights across the street.
The cold wind blew, making Winnie's mind clearer, her earlier nervousness slowly subsiding.
As the heir to the Pritzker Family, Winnie had seen too much of the world, but this was the first time she had encountered such a situation.
Although she might have killed someone, she wasn't frightened to the point of being at a loss.
Feeling the burning, tearing pain in her lower body, along with the scratches and hickeys on her body from when she first regained consciousness, she tightly hugged her arms.
"Was it this bastard?"
Winnie slowly turned, her gaze fixed on the corpse on the bed.
"He raped me... and I killed him in an unconscious state?"
She thought her brief memory loss was most likely due to being drugged with "smurf."
This is a medication medically used for pre-surgical sedation and treating epilepsy, insomnia, and depression, with the side effect of amnesia.
When abused, smurf can cause users to experience brief mania or confusion and forget all actions during the drug's effect.
And her own younger brother, Enrico, was in charge of the family's pharmaceutical company.
Winnie knew very well the difference between first-degree murder and accidental manslaughter.
Moreover, the smurf in her system wouldn't metabolize within a day, which would be very favorable evidence for her.
Then, by compensating the victim's family, this matter could pass without affecting her much.
As for being raped... it absolutely couldn't be known by the outside world.
"Oh—"
A long, weak sound interrupted Winnie's chaotic thoughts.
"Who's there?" She retreated several steps in panic, her back against the wall, her heart pounding violently again.
In her retreat, the knocked-over chair made a dull sound on the dirty carpet.
Being alone with a dead body didn't frighten her.
After all, she might have killed him herself.
But if there was a third person hidden here... that would be truly terrifying.
Winnie quickly scanned the room but didn't see a third person.
But she seemed to see... the corpse on the bed move just now.
"Water!"
The weak voice sounded again.
The voice came from the corpse's mouth.
Winnie heard it clearly. She placed her hands over her heart and slowly walked over.
The room had only one ceiling light, emitting a dim glow.
Quickly walking to the other side of the bed, Winnie finally saw the young man's face clearly.
He had a high nose bridge and deep-set features. The skin exposed outside the thin blanket wasn't typically white, more like a bronze tan from long-term sun exposure.
His shoulders were broad, his physique extremely muscular, with several grayish-white old scars on his abdomen and waist.
His thick shoulder had a clear, flesh-turned bite mark, and his chest was covered with numerous fresh scratches and bright red hickeys.
"Gunshot wounds?" Winnie ignored the rest, her heart chilling. "Who is he?"
"I want water. Why are you staring at my... body?" The young man suddenly opened his eyes, panting as he spoke.
Winnie averted her eyes, looking elsewhere, but didn't see anything to boil water with.
She glanced at the fruit knife in his chest and shook her head. "No."
At this moment, Winnie was truly very nervous inside.
The young man didn't insist. His dazed gaze fell on her face. "Called 911?"
"Mhm." For some reason, her voice was very small, devoid of the commanding presence she had in the business world.
"You... hang on a little longer. The ambulance and police will be here soon."
The young man slowly moved his somewhat stiff arm, placed it on his injured area, and pressed gently.
"The knife entered the wrong spot, and the force was too weak. I won't die."
He pointed to a location.
"To be fatal, it's best to stab from near the midaxillary line, between the fourth and fifth ribs, to penetrate the heart directly."
Seeing he could still talk this much nonsense, Winnie finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Unintentional and accidental injury was a much smaller problem.
"You stabbed me?" The young man flicked the fruit knife, his eyelids twitching as he asked.
Winnie quickly said, "I really don't remember. It should have been someone else trying to kill you and frame me."
The young man mumbled an affirmation. "Get a towel."
Winnie didn't understand what he wanted to do, but didn't ask, hurriedly going to the bathroom to get a towel.
The young man took it and took a deep breath.
Winnie watched in horror as he actually started wiping the handle of the fruit knife with the towel.
He wiped very carefully, his brow twitching with each wipe.
His tightly pressed lips and nostrils didn't make a single sound.
Watching this scene, Winnie felt an unsettling numbness; she could clearly feel the hairs on her body standing up.
"It has your fingerprints on it," the young man said, tossing the towel aside and taking a deep breath.
Winnie asked in shock, "Why?"
"Later... I'll tell you." The young man slowly gripped the knife handle with his right hand.
"You know me?" Winnie's expression changed slightly.
The young man didn't answer, panting twice.
"You must remember, my name is Anthony Tarasov. I just returned from Afghanistan. You're my girlfriend. You broke up with me. I attempted suicide."
Winnie froze.
Before she could process it, the door was violently kicked open.
Four police officers aimed Glock 19s at Winnie standing by the bed.
"Hands on your head, now."