CHAPTER 6

It's my fault...

William's POV

I went to the restaurant where she worked, my heart pounding in my chest. She was just about to leave, her hands adjusting the strap of her purse when she caught sight of me. Her brows lifted slightly in surprise. I wasn’t sure if it was genuine or if she had anticipated this moment.

"Oh... hey," she greeted, her voice casual, but I could sense the underlying nervousness. "What brings you here? I was just about to come see you."

She smiled, but I couldn’t return it. My fingers clenched around the folder in my hand. Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. Her smile faltered as she studied my face, reading the storm in my eyes.

"What?" she asked, her expression shifting into something more serious.

I handed her the file, watching her carefully as she took it from me. She flipped it open, her face unreadable. No shock. No confusion.

She knew.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" My voice was laced with frustration, anger simmering beneath my skin.

She sighed, shutting the file. "You just got your job as a prosecutor. I didn’t think it was necessary to involve you."

"You didn’t think I should know that the police are investigating you?!" My voice rose, unable to contain my frustration.

She blinked at my outburst, clearly taken aback. "William—"

"Do you even understand how serious this is? I was just coming to tell you that I finally got a case, my first big case—only to find out that it’s about you!" My breathing was heavy, my fists shaking.

"It’s just a reference investigation," she said calmly, as if that should ease my concerns. "Four cars passed that night, not just mine. They’re investigating them all."

"Reference investigation? Are you kidding me?" I snapped. "You’re a prime suspect in a hit-and-run incident that led to someone’s death! The police have already applied for a warrant for your arrest!"

Her face paled. "Death?" she echoed, eyes widening. "No... no, I didn’t know someone died."

I exhaled sharply. "You went to the police station and didn’t even tell me," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "And on top of that, why does it say you were the driver?" I demanded, jabbing a finger at the file.

"Because..." She hesitated, looking away. "I own the car. I just—"

"Why did you fix it?" My patience was fraying. "I told you to get a new one! You needed to get rid of it!"

She clenched her jaw. "You were already busy. I didn’t want to burden you."

"The repair shop wasn’t even legit!" I spat, barely restraining my rage.

"I wanted to get it done cheaply. That’s all. But I can explain—"

"They don’t need your explanation, Jade! Don’t you get it? The police only believe what they see! And what they see is a car registered under your name, repaired illegally after an accident that resulted in someone’s death!" I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated.

She balled her fists. "This is ridiculous! We almost died too, William! That night, a truck came out of nowhere. We hit a barrel and lost control. We are victims too!" she yelled, her voice breaking slightly.

I shook my head. "Just because it’s unfair doesn’t mean we’re innocent."

I grabbed her wrist. "Come on. We need to tell them the truth. This doesn’t make sense."

"What? Where are we going?!" She tried to pull away.

"To the station."

"William!" she called out, struggling against my grip. "William, you’re hurting me!"

I stopped immediately, guilt washing over me. I let go of her, stepping back. "I’m sorry..." I muttered, my voice softening. "But please, let’s go."

She rubbed her wrist, her eyes searching mine. "What about you? What will happen to you?"

I swallowed hard. "I’m the prosecutor for this case."

Her lips parted in shock. Her silence spoke volumes.

"Even meeting you now is an illegal act," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She looked down, her breathing uneven. "Then... what will you do?"

"I’ll have to step down. Give up my position. Shit..." I ran a hand down my face. "How did this happen?"

Silence engulfed us. I could hear her breathing, shaky and uncertain.

"I’m not going," she said finally.

I looked up at her. "Jade—"

"Do you remember when we first met?" she asked, her eyes glistening.

I did. I remembered it like it was yesterday.

Three years ago... she was arguing with her boss over a mistake regarding fueling a foreign car. He was about to strike her when I stepped in, using legal jargon to make him back off. When he asked who I was, I had boldly declared myself her boyfriend. She hadn’t corrected me.

Later, at the bus stop, she had approached me with a teasing smile.

"Excuse me, boyfriend," she had said. "Why did you help me?"

"There’s no reason for helping someone," I had replied.

"Then why say you were my boyfriend?"

"Because if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have listened."

"You could’ve said you were my brother."

"We don’t look alike."

She had smiled knowingly. "You’ve never lost an argument before, have you?"

"Not yet."

"You’re going to make a great prosecutor."

"I probably will."

She had then asked me to always help her in unfair situations. I had handed her a four-leaf clover, telling her that if she ever came to me with it, I’d pretend to know her.

Now, she pulled out that same four-leaf clover. "Help me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I think my boyfriend is going to be unfairly blamed for this. That’s why I said I was the driver. Please, I’m asking you as a lawyer... help me."

"Jade..."

"No," she said firmly. "You’ve worked too hard to get where you are. I won’t let you ruin it."

I clenched my fists, torn between duty and love. "When indicted, you’ll have to go to trial. A hit-and-run resulting in death carries a minimum sentence of five years. Do you understand that? I can’t do this to you."

"I trust you," she said, wiping her tears.

She adjusted my tie, smiling faintly. "You look handsome, you know? I still can’t believe you’re my boyfriend. We’ll get through this."

"Jade..."

"You worked too hard for this. I won’t let you throw it away."

She pressed the four-leaf clover into my palm.

"But what about you?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"Don’t worry about me," she whispered. "I’m okay when you’re okay."

I felt my chest tighten. She didn’t know what she was getting into.

But neither did I.