293 His Scars

Emily looked up in surprise, “They plan to pin Emma's death on me?”

“Yes,” Mr. Satan replied softly. “Jackson was too careless.”

“He was just trying to help me...”

“I know, which is why I don’t blame him. Emma, who had lost all morals for money, deserved her fate, but her death has made many things more complicated.”

Emily's shoulders slumped. “It’s my fault. I couldn't hold back and ended up hurting her…”

“I know,” Mr. Satan said, handing a cup of hot water and placing it in her hands. “Have some water. You've talked a lot today; you must be thirsty.”

The glass was warm, almost hot, but drinkable—the perfect temperature.

This was the temperature she was most accustomed to.

She always had a sensitive stomach and preferred drinking water slightly hotter than usual, something Mr. Satan remembered.

She took a small sip, feeling the warmth slide down her throat and settle comfortably in her stomach.

He turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness.