CHAPTER 236: A MISSING COMPLAINT

Roseline’s face turned ghostly pale the second her eyes fell on the phone in Kathrine’s hand.

It was hers.

And finding it with Kathrine was the last thing she had expected.

"K-Kathrine, you—" Roseline began, her voice trembling. But before she could finish, the door swung open again.

Anna stepped inside.

Kathrine’s head snapped toward the sound, her spine stiffening. The moment she recognized Anna, her grip on the phone tightened so hard her knuckles paled.

"Am I interrupting something?" Anna asked slowly, eyes narrowing. "Why do I feel like you two were having a serious conversation?"

Both women froze—Roseline startled, Kathrine silently calculating. But then Anna’s gaze drifted downward... and landed on the phone in Kathrine’s hand.

Kathrine reacted instantly.

Kathrine shoved the phone into her pocket with a swift, almost defensive movement. Her gaze flickered back to Anna, composure forced and brittle. Anna’s steps slowed, her suspicion sharpening—until her eyes shifted to Roseline.

The moment she took in her mother’s pale, fragile face, every other thought vanished.

"Mom..." Anna breathed, and in the next second she was at her side, wrapping her arms around her with gentle care, mindful of every bruise and bandage.

The memory of all that blood she’d seen on the news—splashed across screens, staining the pavement—rose in her mind, making her stomach twist violently. She swallowed hard and buried her face in the crook of Roseline’s neck, seeking reassurance she desperately needed.

"You scared us," she whispered, her voice quivering.

Roseline let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as she slowly hugged her back. The warmth of her daughter’s embrace steadied her... but not enough to chase away the cold dread gnawing at her. Her gaze slid to Kathrine—who stood there unnervingly calm, as if nothing had happened.

"I think you two should talk," Kathrine said abruptly. "I’ll check on the officer."

She didn’t wait for a reply. She slipped out of the room quickly, almost too quickly, leaving mother and daughter alone.

Silence settled over them, broken only by the soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor. Anna pulled back slightly, studying her mother’s face with seriousness that didn’t match her trembling hands.

"Who was it?" she asked quietly.

Roseline stiffened. She blinked, caught completely off guard by the directness—by the knowing look in Anna’s eyes that made her heart lurch.

"Anna—"

"Mom." Anna’s tone sharpened, but not with anger—with hurt, fear, and certainty. "Before you deny knowing anything... just listen."

Roseline swallowed, her throat tightening.

"I know you’ve been looking for someone," Anna continued. "And I think—no, I know—that whoever you were trying to meet, they’re connected to this attack."

The mention of Shawn, the security footage, the suspicious movements he captured—all unspoken, yet hanging heavily between them.

Anna inhaled shakily. "So before you deny anything... just know I’ll look into it myself."

Roseline’s eyes widened, panic flickering through them at her daughter’s quiet warning. She opened her mouth to speak but no words formed—shock, guilt, and fear lodging in her throat. Anna wouldn’t have confronted her like this if her mother hadn’t just survived an attack that nearly took her life.

Anna studied her with a mixture of worry and restrained frustration. "You still won’t say it." Her voice softened, but her eyes remained sharp. When Roseline pressed her lips tightly together, refusing to answer, Anna exhaled slowly.

"Then I have no choice," she said, resolve settling in her tone, "but to look into it myself."

Roseline’s head snapped up, terror washing over her. She knew her daughter—once Anna made up her mind, nothing could stop her. And the idea of her walking straight into danger because of something she started made Roseline feel sick.

"Don’t do that," she blurted out desperately.

Anna froze. The fear in her mother’s voice... the urgency... it confirmed what she had suspected.

"You do know something," Anna whispered, eyes narrowing slightly. "Then why didn’t you tell the officer? Why didn’t you disclose the person’s identity?"

Anna had spoken to the officer just before entering the room, and the vague statement Roseline gave was practically useless.

The CCTV had captured a figure in black running from the premise the one her mother defined. But then why won’t she reveal the person’s name.

Roseline fidgeted, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying—and failing—to compose herself. Under Anna’s steady, unblinking gaze, her resolve crumbled.

"Because..." Roseline finally forced out, voice cracking as she frowned sharply, "the person who attacked me is not the person I’ve been looking for."

Anna’s breath caught.

Her eyes widened, stunned.

The air thickened around them.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, heart pounding.

Roseline looked away, her expression tightening with a mix of anger, fear, and something else Anna couldn’t quite place.

And it was clear—this was only the surface of a truth far darker.

***

Meanwhile, Kathrine hurried down the hallway, trying to catch up with the officer who had come to interrogate Roseline. But before she could reach him, he suddenly halted mid-stride, phone pressed to his ear.

Kathrine stopped as well, confused.

"Officer, I think you—"

"Can you repeat whose missing complaint the woman is filing?" the officer said loudly into the phone, his tone shifting from routine to intrigued.

Kathrine froze, her smile fading instantly.

A missing complaint?

The officer nodded absently as he listened.

"Okay. I’ll be back shortly," he said before ending the call.

The moment he turned, he found Kathrine standing right beside him, eyes sharp with interest.

"Whose missing complaint were you talking about?" she asked, stepping closer with deliberate intent.

The officer blinked, clearly not expecting her question. He cleared his throat.

"It’s confidential, ma’am. I can’t discuss that with anyone."

His response was firm, but Kathrine didn’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice. And it only fed her curiosity.

Confidential. Filed today. Right after Roseline’s attack.

The timing wasn’t just strange—it was unsettling.

Roseline had nearly been killed the previous night. And now someone was filing a missing-person report connected to this hospital?

Kathrine’s instincts prickled. Something about this wasn’t a coincidence—not the attack, not the missing complaint, not Roseline’s panic. But the officer’s firm, guarded posture told her she wouldn’t get anything more out of him.

She forced herself to step back.

For a moment, she considered handing over Roseline’s phone—maybe the police would trace something, find someone faster. But then she remembered the look on Roseline’s face when she saw the phone in her hands.

That raw fear. Not of the attacker— But of Kathrine knowing what was inside.

Kathrine hadn’t meant to intimidate her. She had only wanted answers. But now she wasn’t sure if giving the phone to the police would help... or destroy whatever Roseline was trying desperately to hide.

"Okay," she murmured, nodding slowly. She forced a polite smile.

"To change the subject... I wanted to ask—who placed the restraining order on the media? " she asked. She still remembered the chaos last night—the crowd of reporters swarming the hospital entrance—yet by the time she returned later, it was cleared as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, that was issued by Mr. Clafford," the officer replied easily. "We were told the Bennetts have close ties with him, so no issues there."

Kathrine’s smile faltered at the corners before she quickly fixed it back in place.

"Thank you for letting me know."

The officer gave her a quick nod and walked away.

Kathrine stood there for a moment, watching the police van pull out of the driveway and disappear down the road. Her thoughts churned—Roseline’s fear, the missing-person call, the sudden media restriction, Mr. Clafford’s involvement. None of it added up neatly.

Tightening her fingers around the straps of her bag, she turned and headed toward the parking lot, slipping into her car with a heavy exhale.

***

[Police Station]

"Ma’am, please... calm down," the officer said gently, folding his hands on the desk. "Tell us when you last saw your niece."

The woman sitting across from him—Mariam, late fifties, visibly shaken—pressed her trembling fingers together on her lap. Her breathing was uneven, and her eyes were red from hours of sleepless worry.

But every time she tried to speak, Kira’s face flashed in her mind—cold, angry, distant.

"I... last saw her yesterday evening," Mariam finally managed, voice cracking. "We... we had an argument over her drinking habit. She got upset and storm into her room, locking herself in.

The memory made her chest tighten.

"After that... she didn’t come out," Mariam whispered, blinking rapidly as she forced the words out.

She had waited, thinking Kira only needed space. But hours passed. Silence thickened. And by the time the house grew quiet and the clock struck midnight, Mariam’s concern had outweighed her pride.

"So I... I went to check on her," she continued, clasping her trembling hands. "But when I got there, her door... it was open."

She swallowed hard.

"And Kira wasn’t inside."

At first, she convinced herself it wasn’t unusual. Kira often slipped out late at night to drink, only to stumble home at dawn. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

But this time... something felt different.

"But then morning came," Mariam whispered, fear creeping into her tone, "and she still hadn’t returned."

The silence in the house, the untouched bed, the eerie stillness—it all clawed at her until she couldn’t deny it anymore.

"After thinking and thinking... I knew something was wrong," she said, voice breaking as she met the officer’s eyes. "So I came here."

She clasped her hands tighter, as if holding herself together.

"Please... please help me find her."