The interrogation room felt suffocating after the memory of the cavernous hall.

Detective Vance was watching me intently, evaluating every micro-expression on my face.

“So this man, Marcus,” Vance started, flipping a page in his notebook.

“He just happened to be standing directly underneath you when your mother pushed you?”

I glared at him, insulted by the insinuation.

“He didn't 'just happen' to be there,” I corrected sharply.

“He is the head of our private security detail.”

“Yet he failed to secure the building from the owner herself,” Vance pointed out dryly.

“My mother is the architect of everything that happens in that house,” I replied.

“Marcus was at the opposite end of the wing when he heard the commotion.”

I leaned forward, placing my hands flat on the cold steel table.

“He sprinted across the grand hall the moment he saw me go over.”

Vance sighed, running a hand over his tired face.

“Mrs. Cross, you have to understand my position.”

“We have footage of your mother grabbing your child.”

“We have your statement that she pushed you over a balcony.”

“But when my officers arrived at the estate, there was no sign of Eleanor, the child, or this Marcus.”

My blood ran cold.

“What do you mean, no sign of Marcus?” I demanded.

“He brought me here to the precinct.”

Vance shook his head slowly.

“You walked into the precinct alone, Mrs. Cross.”

“You were hysterical, demanding to see a detective.”

“We have security footage of the lobby.”

“There was no man with you.”

I felt the room begin to spin.

That was impossible.

Marcus had held my hand the entire ride in the car.

He had walked me up the steps to the station doors.

He told me he had to secure the perimeter before coming inside.

“He was right there,” I whispered, my confidence fracturing.

Vance slid another photograph across the table.

It was a still frame from the precinct lobby.

I was standing alone, my white dress torn and smudged, looking wildly around the empty room.

“Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the fall, Clara?” Vance asked softly.

I stared at the photograph, a sickening feeling twisting in my gut.

If Marcus wasn't with me, where was he?

And why did my mother want me alone in a police station?