Chapter 6
Maybe I only felt like he was mocking me because I had something to hide.
After all, I’d been avoiding him—the police—ever since the fire. I used the excuse that I was “too shocked by my parents’ deaths” to meet face-to-face.
I’d only spoken directly to the investigators in the early days, before the case was reassigned to him. After that, Count and Countess Browe handled everything for me.
But I couldn’t avoid him forever.
It was time to brace myself and act properly.
“Yes… I’m sorry for only responding in writing. I truly couldn’t bear talking about the incident directly. It was too painful.”
“I understand. You did lose your entire family, after all.”
“…Yes.”
I paused, clenched my teeth lightly, and lifted my gaze to the ceiling so my eyes looked watery—like I was trying hard not to cry.
I blinked a few times, inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly and composed myself again.
A perfect image of a grieving young lady doing her best to stay strong.
“Have you discovered anything new since the last report I received?” I asked softly.
“The investigation is slow because the house burned down completely. Many clues were lost. Still, we’ve found some suspicious points.”
Ash McCallen looked completely unmoved by my performance.
His lips were pressed into a straight line, yet somehow it still felt like he was smirking at me from above.
“At this point,” he continued, “I can’t tell you the details, but we may have to look at the case from a completely different angle.”
“What do you mean by ‘different angle’?”
“Most people think it was just a simple fire,” he said, pausing briefly.
“But I’m considering all possibilities. Revenge… or arson committed to cover up a bigger crime.”
He seemed to be waiting for me to flinch.
But why would I? I had nothing to do with that fire.
“My family had only lived in Herona for twenty days. Who would’ve had a grudge against us?”
“Well, Emma Hampton is the obvious possibility. There may have been other factors too.”
“Emma? If she wanted revenge, wouldn’t she have targeted the Dartmouths instead?”
“There are rumors she was falsely accused.”
The words I had desperately wanted to hear—yet why was he saying them now of all times?
Of course, I couldn’t speak as Emma now.
I was Rosalyn Thesis.
“Falsely accused? What do you mean?”
“That she wasn’t the one who spilled wine on Lady Dartmouth’s dress.”
Someone witnessed it? Impossible.
If anyone had seen it, Heather would’ve used that information immediately—
especially since she was a powerful noble’s daughter and Rosalyn was just a clueless country girl everyone felt free to bully.
He’s testing me.
And I had dealt with this type of “interrogation” before.
“No,” I answered firmly. “Emma did spill it by accident. She might resent me for not smoothing things over better, but… it was truly her mistake.”
Criminals always say this:
Deny everything unless there’s undeniable proof.
Look innocent. Look sincere.
That advice was saving me again today.
“I see,” he replied.
He seemed to realize the conversation wasn’t going anywhere and decided to end his questioning.
But letting things end like this might make the surrounding nobles suspicious.
So I added one more line to shift the atmosphere.
“Was it my fault?” I whispered. “Is that what it looks like to you too? That everything happened because of me?”
I had saved my tears for this moment.
Pulling from all my childhood memories of unfairness and humiliation,
I let my eyes fill with tears—not enough to fall, but enough to glisten—and let the tip of my nose redden.
The question was emotional and inappropriate, but grieving daughters who’d just lost their parents were allowed to be emotional.
And as expected—for the first time, Ash’s stiff expression changed.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“But if Emma acted because of a false accusation… isn’t that what you’re suggesting?”
“It’s only one possibility among many.
I spoke carelessly without considering your state.
My apologies, Lady Thesis.”
He backed down surprisingly quickly.
I had hoped he would push a little longer so I could appear even more sympathetic, but this was fine.
Count and Countess Browe were already watching us with concern.
This was enough.
***
Ash’s POV
Ash changed his opinion about Rosalyn Thesis.
She was not a simple country girl.
She attacked me. She was telling me not to look down on her.
He had a talent for reading sincerity in people’s reactions—
a skill sharpened during childhood, watching his mother, an actress, and worrying endlessly whether she loved him or would abandon him.
So he assumed speaking to Rosalyn would make the investigation easy.
Reports said she was not particularly bright.
But most people barely remembered her.
“Oh, Rosalyn Thesis? The girl staying at the house that burned? Hmm… I don’t remember much.”
“She had brown hair, right?”
“No, red hair, I think.”
“Typical country noble. Didn’t know much, not very polished. I didn’t look closely.”
“She might’ve been pretty? Maybe? I’m not sure.”
“She must’ve been—why else bring her to Herona? Her family only has that tiny baron title.”
Even Heather Dartmouth had admitted everything she had done.
“She probably spilled wine on my dress herself, then blamed her maid,” Heather said bitterly.
“That’s why I made the maid pay. But the maid didn’t confess.”
“You’re sure it was Rosalyn?”
“I’m not sure but… why? Is it related to the fire?”
Heather’s proud expression crumpled a bit.
“Emma Hampton might have been the arsonist,” Ash explained.
“She left jail claiming she’d ask the baron for money. That was the last time she was seen.”
“What? Really? Is that rumor spreading?” Heather’s face turned pale.
Of course—she was worried about her reputation.
Ash had briefly suspected Heather herself, but seeing how desperately she wanted her name kept away from the fire case, he removed her from the list.
A real criminal wouldn’t complain so openly about wanting to avoid suspicion.
Still—
Rosalyn Thesis is not as simple as she appears.
Heather seemed unsure whether Rosalyn or the maid spilled the drink, but Ash was convinced it was Rosalyn.
If Emma had done it, Rosalyn would’ve panicked and knelt down before trying to cover for her maid.
Meaning Detective Greg Norman’s theory was plausible:
Emma Hampton was indeed a strong suspect.
But jumping to conclusions is dangerous.
Even if Emma set the fire, too many details didn’t fit neatly.
And the only person who could supply key clues was Rosalyn herself.
So he had intentionally tossed bait at her—watching carefully to see whether she would panic.
If she reacted strongly, the case could be resolved quickly.
Emotional people were easy to read.
But she didn’t.
Not even a flicker.
Rosalyn Thesis… I need to reevaluate her completely.
She constantly showed contradictory sides.
At the funeral, she’d trembled in sorrow—then suddenly twisted her lips in amusement.
Tonight, she followed the Browe couple with modest manners—then turned around and struck him with a sharp, innocent-faced counterattack.
She was no ordinary noble girl.
Not anymore.
