That truth belonged to a world humans weren’t meant to know, a line she couldn’t cross no matter what.

So she hesitated.

Let the silence stretch.

Then, slowly, she lifted her eyes again, her expression unfocused, confused, and disoriented, like someone grasping for memories that refused to come.

"I... don’t remember..." she murmured, the words soft, uncertain, as if even she wasn’t sure whether to believe them.

The investigator exchanged a brief glance with his partner.

They had been keeping their questions open-ended, hoping she would fill in the gaps on her own. It was the safest approach when dealing with an unknown witness to let her talk, let her lead.

But that wasn’t going to work.

From the look on her face, dazed, uncertain, and struggling even to form a coherent answer, it was clear she either couldn’t remember... or wasn’t going to say anything freely.

So they adjusted.

"Do you remember being with anyone before you ended up in the water?" the seated investigator asked, his tone shifting slightly, more direct now, and more focused. "Have you seen a woman with a similar build to yours? She’s currently missing. Her name is Clarissa."

He reached into his file and pulled out a photograph, holding it up for her to see.

The resemblance was striking.

At a glance, they could almost pass for the same person, as they both have long, wavy honey-gold hair falling to the waist, pale skin, and a similar frame. From behind, no one would be able to tell them apart.

But up close, the differences were there.

Clarissa’s eyes were a vivid emerald green, sharp against her fair complexion and the most prominent feature of her face, while Ashley’s carried a softer honey-gold hue. Clarissa’s nose was taller, more defined, paired with thinner lips, giving her a handsome, heroic vibe, while Ashley’s features were gentler as her nose was more delicate, her lips fuller, naturally shaped with a quiet softness.

Close enough to confuse.

Different enough to matter.

From behind, anyone could mistake one for the other without a second thought. But face-to-face, the differences were clear enough that no one would confuse them for long.

Still, the similarity in build was enough to raise questions.

To the investigators, it pointed toward a pattern.

If Clarissa had gone missing and Ashley had been found in such a state, then whoever was behind it might not be choosing victims at random. There could be a preference or a specific type. A profile or maybe a demand.

Perhaps the trafficker has a buyer out there who was looking for girls like them.

And if Ashley had managed to escape... then it wasn’t impossible that Clarissa had been taken in her place.

It was only a working theory. An assumption built from fragments, from what little they had.

And right now... Ashley was their only lead. Their only witness.

If she had nothing to give... then the case would turn cold before it could even move forward.

The moment Ashley saw the photograph, a faint buzzing filled her head.

There were indeed similarities between them, enough to make her pause, but not enough to truly confuse them. No one who looked closely would mistake Clarissa for her.

And yet...

She had never seen this woman before.

Not once.

The realization left her with nothing to say. No explanation, no connection to offer. So she stayed silent, her gaze lingering on the image a second too long before lifting back to the investigator, eyes slightly unfocused, expression blank, as if she couldn’t quite grasp what she was being asked.

As if none of it made sense to her at all.

Seeing that, the investigator didn’t press immediately.

Instead, he continued.

"Do you... remember your name? Your background?" he finally asked, watching her closely. From experience, he could read people; truth always left traces, even in silence, and lies slipped through in the smallest microexpressions.

That was why he trusted his instincts. But Ashley gave him nothing. Her face stayed blank, her eyes distant, as if she were as lost as they thought. When she tried to think, a faint frown would form, her expression tightening before fading back into that same dazed emptiness, like she was reaching for something that wasn’t there.

He took it as confirmation of her amnesia.

And in a way, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Ashley was confused, but not in the way they believed. She didn’t need to lie; she truly didn’t know the woman they were asking about, nor had she been trafficked like they assumed.

The emptiness they saw in her eyes wasn’t deception, but merely the absence of her thoughts. But the brief flickers of pain they noticed when she tried to remember? Those were real.

Her past was still raw, the memories sharp enough to hurt as if they had just happened yesterday. They mistook that pain for confusion and for broken recollection.

She saw the conclusion they were drawing and let them keep it.

Ashley felt a quiet pang of guilt for the missing girl, Clarissa.

She didn’t know what had happened to her, but the thought of it, and the possibility of something terrible happening to her, lingered uneasily in her chest.

Still... she said nothing.

The investigators already had their theory, and correcting it would only complicate things. If they believed Clarissa had been taken, then they would act accordingly, circulate her photo, widen the search, and put more eyes out there looking for any trace of her.

And for Ashley...

That assumption worked in her favor.

In her current state, injured, disoriented, seemingly without memory, they wouldn’t publicize her situation. Doing so would risk alerting the very people they suspected, potentially drawing danger back to her.

Which meant they would protect her identity.

Keep her existence quiet.

Instead of exposing her, they would focus on identifying her through internal channels, cross-checking missing persons reports, digging through records, and even extending the search beyond the country if necessary.

All while keeping her hidden.

And for now... That was exactly what Ashley needed.

The only drawback was time.

This kind of discreet investigation wasn’t quick. There were too many missing persons within the country alone, and the numbers were overwhelming. Expanding that search beyond borders only made it worse. Without a clear starting point, no name, no origin, they were essentially searching in the dark.

It would take patience.

And effort.

A lot of both.

But for Ashley...

That worked perfectly in her favor.

As long as they found nothing, the search would continue quietly in the background, and she would remain hidden, unannounced, unrecognized. The longer it dragged on, the more time she had.

It will give her time to heal, time to recover without fear, and when she is finally strong enough...

She could disappear on her own terms, far from Nathan, far from Maddison, somewhere no one would ever think to look.

With a plan forming in her mind, Ashley pushed her act further.

"Ash... ley..." she croaked, the word coming out slow and strained, as if she had to dig deep just to pull it from the fog. Her brows knit slightly, her expression tightening like someone forcing a memory to surface.

The moment her name left her lips, both investigators reacted.

Their eyes sharpened, hope flickering instantly, like they had finally found a thread to follow.

A starting point.

But then...

"But..." Ashley hesitated, her gaze lowering, uncertainty settling back over her features. "I... can’t remember anything else."

The shift was immediate.

The faint spark in their eyes dimmed, replaced by disappointment and frustration. The kind that came when a lead slipped through their fingers just as they thought they had it.

Without more, without anything concrete from her... The case had nowhere to go.

What could have been a breakthrough fell back into uncertainty, reduced to just another missing person report. From there, all they could do was wait, watch for sightings, reports, anything that might surface.

And hope it wouldn’t be too late.

In her mind, Ashley whispered a quiet apology to the missing girl, Clarissa.

She knew she was taking advantage of the situation and using it to protect herself, but even if she told them everything, it wouldn’t help. Not really. Her story wouldn’t lead them anywhere useful, wouldn’t bring Clarissa back, or point them in the right direction.

So this... was still the better choice.

Let the police do what they could with their own resources. Let them search, investigate, follow their leads, while she stayed hidden beneath it all, shielded by their own caution as they tried to identify her.

For now, she would simply... exist in the background.

But that thought led somewhere else.

If she was now nothing more than an unidentified missing person, then what about Nathan? What did he believe?

Did he think she was dead?

And if so... what about her body?

A flicker of unease passed through her. She could only hope she hadn’t misjudged him this time, that he wouldn’t care enough to search too deeply, wouldn’t question things too closely.

Because if that was the case... Then she might truly slip through their grasp.

And finally disappear.