Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young)
Chapter 172

Chapter 172 The Body Has Been Dealt With

Inch smiled slightly, perhaps because I had bombarded him with too many questions at once, and said, "You're asking me so many things all at once. Which one should I answer first?"

Although we were not exactly close, having only shared one disastrous experience, I found his current demeanor quite different from our last encounter, leaving me unsure of how to start a conversation. Seeing me lost in thought, he somewhat helplessly said, "You look like you've been scared silly. Don't worry, I was the one who took you out of the factory. This place belongs to a friend of mine. That abandoned factory is a site he bought for development, and we happened to be there for business when we stumbled upon you.

"You've been unconscious for a day and a night, and you developed a high fever, so we had a doctor stay here to look after you."

He briskly answered all my questions and then paused slightly before asking, "Are you hungry? What would you like to eat? I can get it for you."

I shook my head, still full of questions, and asked, "What about... the others?" I wanted to inquire about Moore and Noah, as it seemed unlikely he would have only brought me here in the middle of such a chaotic situation.

He did not rush to answer. Instead, he looked at me calmly and thoughtfully, then said, "What do you think I should have done in that situation to ensure you didn't get accused of murder?"

His question caught me off guard, and it took me a moment to process his implication. Indeed, what could have been done? I was holding the knife, and Noah was dead on top of me. Moore, a heavily pregnant woman, was also in a dire state. If he had called the police, how would they interpret the incident?

Suppressing the turmoil in my heart, I said, "I didn't kill anyone. The police would have investigated and figured it out."

He looked at me, I*ps pressed together, and asked, "How would they investigate?"

His simple question left me speechless. Moore was wearing gloves at the time, so there were no fingerprints of hers on the knife that killed Noah. Moreover, as Noah's wife and the mother of his unborn child, why would she have any reason to kill Noah from an outsider's perspective?

The logic did not add up, and there was no evidence. How could an investigation proceed?

The inevitable conclusion would be the same. I would be considered the sole perpetrator of Noah's death, whether it was self-defense or not. I would not have been able to escape.

Moore's plan was too meticulous. There was no escaping it.

Taking a deep breath, I looked at Inch, waiting for him to tell me what happened to the other

two.

Anticipating my question, Inch said, "Noah was already dead when we arrived. As for the other woman, she fainted from excessive blood loss."

He paused briefly, then continued. "To avoid getting you into legal trouble, I took care of

Body Has Been Dealt With

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Noah's b*dy. The woman wasn't dead, but I didn't have time to deal with her. People were coming to the scene, so I quickly handled it and left."

I was stunned, somewhat incredulous, and took a deep breath, asking, "Has the b*dy been dealt with?"

He nodded, his expression calm. "If I left the b*dy at the scene, no matter how it was investigated, you wouldn't have been able to avoid legal trouble. So, I had to take care of it. As long as there's no b*dy, whatever that woman says is useless. I... my friend checked the man's identity. He was a fugitive on death row, bound to die sooner or later. If he disappeared, the police wouldn't do much if they couldn't find him."

I looked at him, at a loss for words. I knew that secretly disposing of the b*dy was wrong, but ensnared in Moore's scheme, I had to admit this was the best way to handle it. With Noah's b*dy gone, even if Moore wanted to frame me, she had no evidence to prove anything. In the end, she could only let it go.

Inch's appearance seemed to have miraculously resolved an otherwise fatal situation, leaving me with a mix of sorrow and joy that I could not express.

After a moment of silence, I looked up at him and said, "Thank you.

11

He poured me a glass of water, nonchalantly saying, "No need to thank me. It was just something I wanted to help a friend with."

I took the water from him, subconsciously sensing that something was amiss. However, I could not quite figure out how to ask more detailed questions, so I remained silent.

After sipping the water, I asked him, "Can I borrow your phone?"

I had been gone for so long. My mother and Sweety must be worried sick.

Upon hearing this, Inch stood up and said, "I'll go get your things."

With that, he left the room. I looked around the slightly luxurious setting, furrowing my brows slightly. Things had been too chaotic when I was in Macamer, and I had not followed up with Officer Jackson about Inch's situation since returning.

My knowledge of him was limited to the few hours we were confined together in the ship's cabin. He had mentioned attending the party on the cruise to make money, a young man earning a living with his b*dy. However, why would someone with such wealth, evident in the luxurious mansion and the valuable items and setups in the room, need to sell his b*dy at parties?

If he had such assets, why would he need to go to parties to sell himself?

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