Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 118: Threats, reveal.

Chapter 118: Threats, reveal.

As they stepped into the interrogation room where Roseline sat, Ashley couldn’t ignore the unease etched across the woman’s face.

She scanned Roseline’s upper body, visible from behind the desk, her heart pounding at what she might finally reveal. Unlike the last time they’d seen each other, Roseline no longer wore that mask of defiance. There was fear in her eyes now—despite her effort to hide it—and that gave Ashley a fragile glimmer of hope.

Maybe she really wants to confess this time.

Lorenzo’s hand slid around her waist, his fingers giving her side a gentle, grounding squeeze.

"Ms. Roseline," Nicolas said, his voice calm but firm. "You asked to see Ms. Flynn. She’s here."

Roseline cast a nervous glance at Ashley, then at Lorenzo, before clearing her throat. "I want to speak to her alone."

Lorenzo’s body tensed beside Ashley, his xpression hardening.

"No," he said quietly, tightening his hold on her. "I’m not leaving you alone with this woman. This could be another one of her games."

Ashley hesitated. There was a desperate sincerity in Roseline’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. She turned to Nicolas, torn.

"Mister Grey," Nicolas said gently, catching the tension. "You don’t need to worry. We’ll be right outside the door. The suspect has been thoroughly searched—she’s clean. And she’s cuffed. There’s no need to worry."

Ashley nodded. "I think Nicolas is right," she told Lorenzo softly, meeting his worried gaze. "I’ll be fine."

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

"You have ten minutes," Nicolas told Roseline, before leading Lorenzo out of the room.

As the door shut, Ashley’s eyes darkened.

"Are you ready to say where my daughter is now?" she asked, her voice low and sharp.

"I know you have my son," Roseline snapped back, trying to sound firm, but her trembling voice betrayed her fear. "Where is he? What are you doing to him?"

Ashley scoffed. She couldn’t mistake the raw panic in her eyes—and she was going to use it.

"I see we’re both missing someone precious now. Interesting," she said, pulling out the chair and sitting across from her. "How does it feel?"

"He’s just a kid," Roseline said, clasping her hands to still their shaking. "He knows nothing about this. He doesn’t deserve whatever you’re doing to him."

"But my daughter did? She deserved your sick games?" Ashley’s fists clenched. "She’s been missing for five months. Do you know what that feels like? Oh wait—you’re starting to."

"I said I don’t know where your daughter is," Roseline hissed.

"And yet you confessed to selling her to some trafficker ring." she was trying so hard to control her anger, but she was failing.

"I never said I sold your daughter!" Roseline snapped. "Return my son, or I’ll tell the authorities. You know what that means for this investigation."

Ashley’s jaw tightened. Her throat went dry. She didn’t realize when she stood, leaning in close enough to make Roseline recoil with a sharp breath.

"You’re a hard criminal," she whispered. "And here I was thinking I’d spare your little boy. But maybe he’d be better off dead—better than growing up to find out the kind of mother he has."

Roseline’s eyes widened, terrified. "You won’t harm him. You wouldn’t dare. I’m telling the police."

Ashley gave a tiny, sinister smile, pulling out her phone. "His death is just a call away," she said coldly.

Roseline’s breath hitched.

"Say a word to the cops, and he’ll be gurgling in his blood. Tiny hands clutching his throat. I’ll be arrested, sure. But it’ll be your word against mine. And I’ll burn his body so clean, they won’t even smell evidence."

She went ahead to unlock her phone, pretending to dial. Her eyes never left Roseline, cold and calm.

She would never hurt a child—God, never—but the woman before her didn’t need to know that.

"Do you want to save him, or still want to talk to the cops?" she asked in a low, venomous tone.

Sweat broke across Roseline’s face.

"No," she whispered. "You’re bluffing. You don’t have him."

Ashley paused, then smirked.

"Brown hair. About this tall. Six fingers on his left hand. Stammers when he says—"

"Please!" Roseline interrupted, breaking. "Don’t harm him. I’ll talk. I’ll tell you where your daughter is. But promise me you’ll let my son go."

Ashley’s heart slammed against her ribs. For a second, the world seemed to stop. Hope burst so brightly in her chest, it almost hurt. But before she could react, the door swung open.

Lorenzo rushed in first, straight to her side, followed closely by Nicolas. The ten minutes was up.

"She’s ready to talk," Ashley said, almost screaming, urgency thick in her voice. "She knows where my daughter is."

Lorenzo pulled her into a protective embrace, while Nicolas stepped forward, setting a recorder firmly on the table.

"Time to start talking, Ms. Roseline," he said sharply.

Roseline’s eyes welled with tears. Her gaze bounced around the room before settling on the recorder. The weight of three pairs of eyes pressed on her.

"I—I swear I didn’t think they’d hurt the girl," she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. She bowed her head, shame tightening her shoulders. "I just thought they liked her more than the others."

Ashley’s heart thudded painfully. Her brows drew together. She sold a child’s life for such a stupid reason? How much did they really pay her to silence her conscience?

"Who is they?" Nicolas asked the burning question in Ashley’s chest.

"I already told you the man’s name," Roseline muttered. "But the woman... I don’t know her name."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Ashley could barely breathe.

"Can you describe her?" Nicolas pressed.

Roseline hesitated, then gave a small, shaky nod.

"Alright," Nicolas said as he stepped out. He returned moments later with a younger, dark-haired officer. The man was shorter, calm-eyed, and carried a laptop.

"This is our forensic artist," Nicolas explained.

The artist sat across from Roseline, his fingers ready over the keyboard. He offered her a gentle nod.

"I’ll need you to describe the person as clearly as you can—hair, eye color, face shape, any scars or tattoos. Anything you remember."