13. The Killer

The dimly lit room buzzed with an almost unbearable tension. Sarah sat at the interrogation table, her hands bound by cold steel cuffs that clinked softly with her every fidget. Her once elegant posture was now slumped, her eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape. Across from her, Rafiq stood rigid, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. He had known Sarah as Nishi—a woman he had fallen in love with in Spain—not the monster they were accusing her of being.

"You've got the wrong person," Sarah's voice was smooth, almost pleading, her gaze locking onto Rafiq's. A glimmer of desperation shone through her eyes. "Rafiq, you know me. I could never hurt anyone. Someone's framing me. You have to believe me."

Rafiq's resolve wavered. He had loved her—still loved her, perhaps—but the weight of the evidence against her was crushing. His fists clenched at his sides as he battled his emotions. "Nishi...," he began, his voice soft, almost broken, "I want to believe you, but everything points to you. Why are they saying these things?"

"Because they're lying!" Sarah's voice cracked, her desperation palpable as she leaned forward. "Someone wants to destroy me, to take everything away from me! You can't let them, Rafiq. You know who I am, who we were together. Please..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm innocent. I haven't done anything wrong. You trust me, don't you?"

Rafiq's heart twisted painfully, memories of their time together flooding his mind. He had met Sarah in Spain, where he had gone to escape the grief of his first wife's death. In Nishi, he had found a kindred spirit, someone who made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could start over. They had married quickly, the connection between them feeling almost fated. But now, sitting in this cold, sterile room, everything he thought he knew was unraveling.

The door behind them creaked open, breaking the moment. Hamza stepped into the room, his presence commanding. The air seemed to thicken as Sarah's eyes snapped to him. For a brief moment, she froze, her breath catching in her throat. The color drained from her face, replaced by a ghostly pallor. "You...," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're supposed to be dead."

Hamza's steps were deliberate as he approached, his gaze never leaving Sarah. "Did you really think I would die that easily, Sarah?" His voice was cold, devoid of any warmth it once held.

Sarah's initial shock morphed into a flicker of fear, her eyes widening. She instinctively leaned back in her chair, but then something shifted within her—her fear twisted into a strange, cold confidence. A slow, unsettling smile curled her lips. "So you survived," she said, her voice regaining its edge. "But it doesn't matter. You're too late. There's nothing you can do to me."

Hamza's eyes narrowed. "I'm an eyewitness, Sarah. I'm your eighth victim, the one you failed to kill. And now, I'm here to make sure you pay for everything you've done."

For a moment, Sarah's composure faltered, her bravado slipping. Then she let out a muffled cry, turning her tear-filled eyes back to Rafiq. "So this was your plot... Rafiq... This man... he used to abuse me. I tried to escape from his clutches. In self-defense, I hit him and thought he was dead. But I was wrong..."

She spoke as if connecting the dots, her voice filled with a sudden, almost frantic realization. "He's trying to frame me, Rafiq. This man is evil. He wants revenge."

Rafiq's eyes darted between Sarah and Hamza, confusion swirling in his mind. He felt like he was being pulled in two directions—one part of him clinging to the woman he loved, the other grappling with the overwhelming evidence.

"Stop your acting, Sarah," Hamza snapped, his patience wearing thin. "We have enough evidence now. Your game is over."

"Your evidence is false!" Sarah cried, turning back to Rafiq, her voice breaking. "Rafiq, why are you quiet? They're trying to frame me. I can't believe you're putting your trust in them, not me. Is this the love you always talked about? You know me, right? Do you think I'm capable of something so heinous?"

Her words were request, a desperate attempt to reclaim the trust that had once bound them. Tears streamed down her face as she buried her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

Rafiq's resolve shattered. He had been a police officer once, trained to see through lies and deceit, but the sight of his wife—the woman he thought he knew—so vulnerable and broken, cut through his defenses. "Enough!" he shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "You don't have any evidence against my wife! You're tormenting her for no reason!"

"Do you know that she made an insurance account on your behalf?" Hamza's voice was steady as he gestured to a lawyer, who handed Rafiq a document. His eyes scanned the paper—a million-dollar life insurance policy in his name.

Rafiq looked at Sarah, disbelief etched on his face. But before he could process the betrayal, Hamza continued.

"She also sold a third of your property to a random builder," Hamza said, handing him another document. "If we hadn't caught her today, we might have found your corpse in a couple of days."

Rafiq stared at Sarah, his mind reeling. The woman who had once been his world now seemed a stranger, someone he couldn't recognize. Slowly, Sarah raised her head, her face streaked with tears, yet still, she tried to gaslight him.

"These are all lies," she insisted, her voice trembling but forceful. "These documents are forged. Believe me, Rafiq. I love you. I could never do something like this. I'm your Nishi. You love me, don't you?"

But it was too late. Rafiq's instincts, honed over years of police work, were screaming at him that the documents were real, that this wasn't some elaborate setup. His legs buckled as he staggered backward, collapsing into a nearby chair. The truth was a weight he could barely carry.

Seeing his reaction, Sarah's demeanor changed. She wiped her tears away, her expression hardening. With a low, almost eerie chuckle, she looked up at Hamza. "You think you can put me in jail? You're more foolish than I thought. I didn't kill anyone. It was Hasna."

Rafiq stiffened, the name hitting him like a cold splash of water. "Hasna?" he echoed, disbelief tinging his voice.

Sarah nodded, her smile widening with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Yes, Hasna. She's the one who killed those men. I'm innocent."

The officer standing next to Rafiq stepped forward, his voice steady, cutting through the tension. "We know about Hasna's involvement, but we also know that she's been manipulated. We have her statement, Sarah. She says you forced her into this. You're the mastermind."

Sarah's expression darkened, her smile fading as her eyes narrowed into slits. "Hasna would never betray me," she hissed, venom lacing her words. "She's the real criminal, not me. She's the murderer, and you'll never prove otherwise."

The officer exchanged a glance with Hamza, a flicker of concern crossing his face. They had hoped to bait Sarah into a confession, but it was clear now that she was more cunning than they had anticipated.

Hamza leaned in closer, his voice low and unyielding. "Hasna's been through hell because of you, Sarah. You and your twisted family abused her, made her your pawn. But this ends now. We know the truth."

Sarah's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, a spark of defiance. "You know nothing," she spat, her voice sharp as a blade. "Hasna is weak. She's always been weak, and that's why she did what she did. She killed those men. She always wanted money and luxury. But me? You'll never touch me. I've planned too carefully."

Rafiq watched the woman he once loved as she unraveled before him, her mask of innocence slipping away to reveal the cold, calculating monster beneath. "Nishi...," he murmured, almost to himself, as if trying to reconcile the woman before him with the one in his memories.

But Sarah's eyes, wild and unrepentant, bore into him. "Don't call me that," she snapped. "I was never Nishi. That was just another name, another mask. And you were just another mark, Rafiq."

The words cut deep, and Rafiq's expression twisted in pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hamza held up a hand, stopping him.

"We found out everything," Hamza continued, his voice unrelenting. "We know how you killed those men, starting with the old man you married for his money. How you deceived everyone, killed without remorse, and then framed Hasna when things got too dangerous. But now, it's over."

Sarah's smile returned, colder than before. "You think you're clever," she said softly, mocking him. "She's the one who killed them, not me. She's the murderer. I could be a witness and confess against her. She's a very evil person. She's always been."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the implications of her words sinking in. Without Sarah's confession, they couldn't clear Hasna's name. The officers exchanged worried glances, their plan unraveling before their eyes.

Hamza clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Why is Hasna protecting you, Sarah?" he demanded. "Why would she take the fall for you?"

Sarah's gaze hardened, her lips curling into a sneer. "Why would Hasna protect me? She murdered those men. She is a murderer. But why are you so desperate to defend her, Hamza?"

Hamza's jaw tightened, a flash of something unspoken in his eyes. "She's my wife now."

Sarah leaned forward, her disbelief palpable. "Wife?"

"Yes, wife," Hamza confirmed, his voice unwavering. "And I won't let her suffer for your crimes."

For a moment, Sarah was stunned, her composure faltering. But she quickly composed herself, her expression hardening once more.

"No matter what you do, you can't save her because she's the murderer. She will be hanged for death, and then she will die."

A tense silence filled the room as the gravity of her words settled in. Hamza felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. Hasna wasn't just a victim; she was trapped, manipulated into taking the blame to save the one person she had left.

But then, something in Hamza's expression shifted. Determination replaced despair as he took a deep breath. "You might think you've won, Sarah, but you haven't. We'll find a way to prove Hasna's innocence, and when we do, you'll pay for every life you've destroyed."

Sarah's smile faded slightly, but she didn't respond. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of arrogance and insanity. "Good luck with that," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "You'll need it."

As the officers moved to escort her back to her cell, Hamza turned to his lawyer, his mind already working through the possibilities. "We need to dig deeper into Hasna and Sarah's past," he said urgently. "There has to be something we can use to break this hold Sarah has over her."

The lawyer nodded, already pulling out his phone to make the necessary calls. "I'll get started right away."

As Hamza left the interrogation room, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders. He knew this was far from over. But now, more than ever, he was determined to free Hasna from the nightmare Sarah had trapped her in. No matter what it took, he would find a way to bring the real criminal to justice.

---

Hamza sat alone in the dimly lit study, the soft glow of his laptop illuminating the furrow in his brow. He had spent hours poring over files, digging through old records, piecing together the fragments of Hasna's life before she became entangled in Sarah's web. Each new discovery felt like a knife to the heart, the pain of what he was uncovering almost too much to bear.

The creak of the study door pulled him from his thoughts. His lawyer, looking weary but resolute, stepped inside, holding a thick folder.

"I've found more," the lawyer said, his voice low and grave. He placed the folder on the desk, pushing it toward Hamza. "It's not pretty."

Hamza nodded grimly, flipping open the folder. His eyes scanned the documents—birth certificates, death records, financial statements. But it was the old photographs tucked between the pages that made his breath catch. In the faded images, a younger Hasna stared back at him, her eyes filled with a haunting sadness. Beside her stood a girl, Sarah, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. They were cousins, but the contrast between them was stark.

"They were close once," the lawyer said, as if reading Hamza's thoughts. "But everything changed after Hasna's parents died."

Hamza's eyes darkened as he read on. "Sarah's family moved into Hasna's house after her parents passed. They were supposed to take care of her, but instead... they did this." His voice trembled with barely restrained anger as he read about the abuse—the endless chores, the isolation, the starvation. "They treated her like a servant in her own home."

The lawyer sighed, leaning against the desk. "Sarah's parents lost everything to scams and illegal activities. They were desperate. When they moved in with Hasna, they saw her as nothing more than a burden. Sarah grew up in that toxic environment, and it twisted her. When her parents' schemes failed, Sarah found her own way to survive—by marrying rich, old men and inheriting their fortunes."

Hamza clenched his fists, the paper crumpling in his hands as he absorbed the truth. "That's when it all began," he muttered, his eyes fixed on a particular report detailing Sarah's first marriage.

"Yes," the lawyer confirmed. "She married an old man, hoping he'd die naturally and leave her his wealth. But he was stubborn, and when he didn't die as quickly as she'd hoped, she took matters into her own hands. She killed him—her first murder."

Hamza shook his head, the horror of it all sinking in. "And she got away with it. She told everyone it was a natural death and claimed his insurance money. No one suspected a thing."

The lawyer nodded. "That success gave her the confidence to continue. Each murder became easier, each lie more convincing. But when she failed to kill you, Hamza, she knew her luck was running out. That's when she and her mother devised the plan to frame Hasna."

Hamza's heart twisted painfully as the pieces fell into place. "Hasna... She took the blame to protect her younger brother," he whispered, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.

"Yes," the lawyer confirmed, his tone heavy with regret. "Sarah and her mother threatened Hasna—if she didn't take the fall, they'd kill her brother. She had no choice."

Hamza's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. He could picture it all—Hasna, trapped in a nightmare, manipulated and blackmailed by the very people who were supposed to care for her. All to save her brother. *How much had she suffered in silence?*

The lawyer's voice broke through his thoughts. "There's more, Hamza. I dug into the financial records. Sarah's parents drained Hasna's inheritance. They spent it all, leaving her with nothing. That's why she was so vulnerable, why she couldn't fight back."

Hamza's chest tightened with anger and sorrow. He could barely breathe as the weight of the truth settled on him. "All this time... Hasna was living in a prison of fear and pain," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I married her, thinking I was saving her, but I didn't know how deep her wounds went."

The lawyer placed a reassuring hand on Hamza's shoulder. "You couldn't have known. But now you do, and we can still save her. We can bring Sarah to justice and clear Hasna's name."

Hamza nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes. "We will," he vowed, his voice steely with determination. "But first, I need to understand why Hasna is still protecting Sarah. Why hasn't she told anyone the truth?"

The lawyer hesitated, then pulled out another document from the folder. "I think I know why. It's all in their past."

Hamza took the paper, his eyes scanning the words. It was a letter, written by a young Hasna, detailing the abuse she had endured at the hands of Sarah and her parents. The words were filled with pain and fear, but also with a heartbreaking sense of loyalty. Hasna had written that, despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to betray her family.

"She feels responsible," Hamza realized, his voice barely a whisper. "She thinks she owes them something, even after everything they did to her."

The lawyer nodded. "It's a twisted sense of loyalty. Sarah's manipulation runs deep. Hasna has been conditioned to protect her abusers, to believe that she's the one who deserves to suffer."

Hamza's heart broke for the woman he had married, the woman who had suffered so much in silence. But that silence had to end. He would find a way to free her from Sarah's grasp, to show her that she wasn't alone anymore.

"I won't let Sarah win," he said, his voice firm. "I'll make sure Hasna knows she's not the villain here. She's the victim, and she deserves to be free."

The lawyer nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "We'll need more evidence to break Sarah's hold over her, but I'm confident we can do it."

Hamza took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle ahead. "Let's start by gathering everything we can on Sarah's parents. If we can prove the abuse, we might be able to get Hasna to talk."

As they began planning their next steps, Hamza couldn't help but think of Hasna—alone, afraid, and burdened by secrets that weren't hers to bear. He knew it would take time and patience, but he was determined to break through the walls Sarah had built around her.

He would save Hasna, no matter what it took.

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