The sound of a siren is blasting through the quiet night in Spring. My hands are shaking, and I am sobbing uncontrollably when the paramedics carry Cameron into the emergency ambulance. He lost a lot of blood and was unconscious by the time any help arrived. He is soon rushed to the nearest hospital as I am tended by a paramedic to see if I am hurt. 

         I see blood everywhere—blood on his waistcoat, blood on both my hands and arms, blood on the cobblestone ground. 

         Nora runs out to see me, along with some party guests that are alarmed by the noises and commotion of the tumultuous incident. I hope she can hug me, giving some comfort, tell me it will all be okay, or this is all a dream. But she does not touch me. She can’t. I’m covered in Cameron’s blood. My black dress conceals the severity of the stain with its darkest of night color, but I feel the sticky liquid drying up, and it clings to my skin. 

         “Madam, here is some water. Please sit down, so we can do a checkup.” One of the paramedics guides me to sit at a bench nearby while I am informed that a police patrol is making their way here for questioning. I have not stopped crying at this point. Both of my hands are shaking, and my voice trembles when I ask anxiously:

         “Is he going to be okay?” 

         “My colleague did their best to stop the bleeding, but we will need to assess the severity of his condition once he reaches the hospital.” She replied. 

         I have heard that knife crime is relatively common, but I could never dream in a million years that it could happen to someone so close to me. 

         The paramedic urges me to drink water which eventually calms me down. I close my eyes to take a deep breath. How could this happen? How could Cameron get stabbed? He doesn’t have enemies, as long as I’m aware. He works in banking, and the stories I heard are as dull as dull stories can be; he sits in front of a computer all day, meets clients sometimes, and he often comes to hang out at my office after work. He said my office, with the startup vibes, beanbags, Ping-Pong table, and overflowing beer tap, is much cooler than his. 

         I start to think of people who might have grudges with Cameron. Perhaps there are people at his work I don’t know. Perhaps he got into conflicts with someone. The last person I see him getting into a heated argument with is Kyle, but that was over some sarcastic remarks—it was rather too small to even be considered. Oh, and there was that clash with Jadyn, too; I almost forgot. Cameron was in one of his jealous rages. I could have prevented that unpleasant event, but I couldn’t help myself. 

Cameron does have a temper when he doesn’t get his way. That comes with his sensitive soul. He feels a lot more intensely, and that is probably the reason we argue a lot. He is too sensitive to everything I am. But I gave him an informed choice to choose with conditions set in stone, and he chose the path that may ultimately be hurtful anyway. 

         From what I gather, it could be a random incident of robbery. I don’t know if his wallet has been taken. But I could not think of any other way. Anyways, it is not my job to investigate. Whatever causes the incident to happen, I pray that Cameron is safe and recovering.  

         Soon after, the police arrive. The area with blood on the ground is labeled as a crime scene, and I am requested to be questioned at the police station as a key witness. Some people are questioned on the scene. Nora quickly approaches me and says she will follow me to the station. 

         Apparently, no one saw what actually happened. The police are waiting for CCTV footage which may take a few days. The questions they ask me are basic ones. I waive the right to a solicitor present for the interview. These are just some normal procedural questions; there is no need for any legal advice. My concern is with Cameron. I’m ready to rush to the hospital after this.

         “Madam, what is your relationship with the victim?” One police asked.

         “I’m his friend. We have known each other since undergrad.”

         “What is the event tonight? Why are you two at the event?”

         “We both attended the Polo Ball, which was hosted by the university’s Polo Club. And as alumni, we bought tickets.”

         “We are informed that you two were arguing before the incident. Some witnesses informed us that the two of you were yelling at each other. Can you please describe the nature of the argument?” I sighed. Of course, people saw us. Without any reason to hide the relationship, I answer honestly.

         “I…We…were together. He was my lover for a while. You know, something casual. I broke off the relationship, and he didn’t want to. We argued because he wanted to get back together. We are just friends now.”

         The police still keep up the serious look, but I can tell that the information slightly surprises her. 

         “Did you see anyone suspicious in the area during the time of your argument?”

         “I didn’t look around much. All I did was try to reason with Cameron. He was persistent in getting back together. But I’m sure when I looked around, there were just people who attended the ball and were leaving at the same time that we left. It was late.”

         The police question me a few more questions about the details of what happened. They take pictures of me with the blood on me and my dress, let me clean up, and get change. And they let me go.

         I walk out of the station to see Nora smoking outside, waiting for me. We hurry to the hospital to find out that Cameron is in an emergency operation, and all we can do is pray. I tear up again, and Nora hugs me.

         “He will be okay. He will survive this.” She says softly, and I want to believe her. I really do. But the situations are not exactly conducive to optimism. 

         When I get home, the time is almost morning. I am exhausted emotionally and physically, but I can’t sleep. What a curse. 

         As a habit, I open the email and find the presentation my secretary sent me. The price I pay for being the head of the London office and a top executive in a startup company—is most of my life is dedicated to this work. The presentation captures this quarter's business performance which appears to be in great shape, although the user adoption is not as impressive as in the USA. I email Sophia the updates. She always loves reading about the app's performance. 

         I will have a couple of meetings tomorrow afternoon, and actually, since it’s already morning, it’s today afternoon. I can sleep in a bit more for the whole morning, I guess. 

         I check my phone one more time before bed. And one text catches my eye. What is that guy up to? Texting me out of the blue?

         ‘I’m in Malta. Why don’t you fly in to hang out? Caroline is also here.’ – Jadyn 

         In a normal circumstance, I would book a plane ticket right there and then. But the time now is not a usual circumstance. With stress and exhaustion, I ignore the text and go straight to sleep.

**** 

         It has been three days. Cameron is still unconscious after that ghastly incident. He is on an oxygen tube, and there is an IV inserted in his arm. It has been three days! The knife punctured his vital organs, and combined with significant blood loss, his condition is worrying. 

         I come to check on him every day after work. Ernie, Cameron’s little brother, is there, and all I hear is that his condition is stable but not better.

         I got a call from the police regarding the investigation needing more information about the knife attack. I don’t know what else I can contribute to the case, but I go to the station again. 

         The police appear glum this time. On my first step of stiletto high heels inside the station, I feel the sense of foreboding in the air. My heart drops further when an intimidating police officer leads me to an interrogation room. And the questions are just…. 

         “We checked Mr. Cameron Vandriel’s bank account and found suspicious transactions sent from your account for the past few months.”

         …unexpected…

         I frown. My fist clenches. My palm sweats. Where are they getting at? This doesn’t feel right. The direction of this conversation doesn’t feel right at all. 

         “What is the most puzzling to us is Mr. Vandriel’s life insurance policy names you, Miss Sienna White, as the beneficiary….”

         Eyes open wide, Cameron does what? What life insurance? What! What is this? Suddenly, I feel nauseated. I know full well where is the tide of conversation is leading me.

         The investigator does not wait long until he continues.

         “We also found the knife in the bush near the crime scene. The forensics report your fingerprints all over the weapon.”

         I look at him in disbelief. This is all too much. WTF. What the actual hell? A million curse words spring out in my head. This is unreal. No, this shouldn’t be real. What is going on? Am I dreaming? This can’t be. Someone is playing with me here. No, I don’t believe it. 

         The police officer continues to ask another question sternly.

         “What relationship do you really have with this man?”

         I close my eyes, take a deep inhale, and attempt to answer calmly. My voice can’t help but tremble. 

         “I request my legal right for a lawyer present in this interview.”