Chapter 4: The Investigation Begins

Rain still fell outside the hospital window, though gentler now—soft drizzles against glass, as if the world itself mourned in silence.

Inside, Athena sat up for the first time in days, her hair unbrushed, the pale blue of her hospital gown making her look ghostlike against the crisp white bedding. Her body ached, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside her mind.

There was a knock.

Detective Raina Malik entered the room—mid-40s, neatly pressed suit, eyes sharp with experience. Behind her trailed a younger officer, clipboard in hand.

“Athena Albrecht?” the detective said, voice level. “I’m leading the investigation into the crash. I know this is a difficult time, but we need to ask you some questions.”

Athena nodded weakly. She didn’t have the strength to argue.

Raina stepped closer, her tone respectful but professional. “Do you remember the events of that night? Anything before the crash? Speed, visibility, any mechanical failure?”

Athena stared at her hands. Bruised knuckles. A scratch across her palm.

“I… remember the rain,” she murmured. “The road was slick. There was a bend, and then… spinning. Screaming. Sana—” Her voice cracked. “I tried to control it. I don’t remember more.”

The officer scribbled notes. Raina studied her carefully. “There are no signs of substance use. But we need clarity, especially since you were the driver. Was there an argument? A distraction in the car?”

“No.” The word was quick, defensive. “We were… just talking. She told me to slow down. I didn’t listen.”

There was a long silence before Raina spoke again. “We’ll be conducting a full forensic analysis of the vehicle and road. These things take time, but the media is already… taking interest.”

Athena winced.

By the next morning, they were everywhere.

“TRAGEDY IN THE RAIN: Heiress CEO Kills Best Friend in Late-Night Crash.”

“Was Stress to Blame? The Ruthless Rise and Fall of Athena Albrecht.”

“Cold, Calculated—and Careless?”

News anchors dissected her expression from photographs outside the hospital. Analysts speculated about the pressures of her career. Online forums buzzed with theories—some cruel, others conspiratorial. Even talk shows weighed in, with titles like When Power Comes with a Price.

Old interviews were resurfaced. Headlines from years ago flashed across screens: “Ice Queen of Finance”, “Athena Albrecht: Brilliant or Brutal?”

None of them mentioned Sana.

None of them remembered how Athena used to laugh before the world taught her to armor herself in silence.

Even as she watched the segments from her hospital bed, Athena didn’t react. Her lawyers advised silence. Her PR team—already battered by the press—urged her to issue a statement of apology, something polished, sympathetic, human.

But what could she possibly say?

“I’m sorry for killing the only person I ever truly loved?”

The public didn’t want truth. They wanted a narrative. And Athena fit theirs perfectly: the brilliant, emotionless CEO who drove too fast, who played god in the boardroom and failed where it mattered most.

She could feel it already—her life folding in on itself. The empire she built, now under scrutiny. The investors growing nervous. Her board questioning her stability.

But worst of all was the silence in her heart where Sana once lived. That unbearable ache, that absence.

No investigation could explain that.

That night, as the lights dimmed and the world outside carried on, Athena sat alone, staring out the window. Her reflection looked like a stranger—hollow-eyed, haunted.

She whispered into the dark, “I’m so sorry, Sana.”

And the night answered with rain.

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