Eric’s frustration mounted. He glared at Yvette. "Who the hell are you? You're not even wearing a uniform. You're not a cop, are you?"

Yvette, legs casually draped over the table, opened her eyes. Their coldness held a sinister glint. "Didn't the person who hired you to kill Zachary tell you he has another daughter?"

"No," Eric blurted out.

Andrew clapped his hands, cheering. He'd observed the entire interrogation; Eric's stubborn silence had finally broken. "Yvette is incredible! How did she get Eric to talk in only half an hour?"

Zane, beside him, studied the monitor intently. "Psychological tactics. We focused on extracting answers, failing to realize our weaker position. From the moment Ms. Zeller entered, she established herself as different. She observed him, slowly chipping away at his defenses. By the time she spoke, his mind was fragile."

Jeremiah glanced casually at Zane. "Have you researched such tactics?"

Zane, thrilled by Jeremiah's interest, and noting Wyatt's shared excitement, replied respectfully, "I haven't formally studied them, but I worked a case with a police-hired consultant a few years ago. I have some familiarity."

Jeremiah nodded, his gaze fixed on Yvette on the monitor.

Back in the interrogation room, Yvette's smile deepened, her eyes darkening. Her intense presence forced Eric to shrink back.

Realizing his slip, Eric panicked. He slammed his hand on the table, his voice rising. "Stop fooling me! No one hired me! I've said a hundred times I was overworked! Who are you? You're not a cop! Is this legal? I want a lawyer! I have the right to remain silent! I won't say another word!"

Most would have been helpless, but Yvette was different. She stood, pocketed her hands, and strolled lazily to the table, stopping opposite Eric. She tapped her fingers, her smile wicked. An intense unease washed over Eric.

Without warning, Yvette yanked him from his chair, lifting him effortlessly with one hand. Stunned, Eric felt a choking sensation as her grip tightened. He struggled, his face turning purple. Her bloodthirsty gaze, cold and merciless, felt demonic. He felt like an ant.

Eric's boldness stemmed from the police station's presumed protection and the lack of evidence against him. But the situation spiraled beyond his expectations. He gasped for breath, his consciousness fading, unable to escape her tightening grip. Too terrified to beg, he realized Yvette intended to kill him.

The others watched, their expressions varied. Andrew was excited and admiring. "As expected, Yvette's tough." Wyatt's heart pounded; he felt queasy but remained silent under Jeremiah's calm gaze. Zane, shocked, stammered, 'Wasn't she an artist? How did this happen? He's a 170-pound man, and she's lifting him like a chicken!'

Fearing Yvette might go too far, Zane braced himself. "Mr. Chavez, should we intervene?"

Jeremiah's gaze, cold and intense, was like a frozen lake. "She knows what she's doing," he said indifferently.

Zane, unable to argue, watched Eric's paling face on the monitor, wiping cold sweat from his brow, silently praying Yvette would stop.

Andrey scoffed. Seeing Zane's concern, he smirked. "Don't worry. She's just scaring him. She won't kill him."

Zane forced a smile, his eyes glued to the monitor, wondering what they'd do if she did kill him.

Just as Eric neared unconsciousness, Yvette released him. He collapsed, gasping for air, scrambling to the corner, terrified. He just wanted to escape. He'd almost died.

Yvette relaxed, resting her chin on her hand, unwrapping candy and eating calmly while watching the gasping Eric. "Who sent you?"

Eric froze, trembling as he raised his head. The recent ordeal silenced his defiance. Prison seemed preferable to Yvette's wrath. But the thought of betraying his employer conflicted with his desire to protect the Wilson family.

Minutes later, he looked at Yvette, his voice weakened but resolute. "No one hired me. I hate rich people. I can't stand seeing Zachary live comfortably while I struggle. I eat instant noodles, women leave me. Why is my life so miserable? I crashed his car. Do what you want. No one hired me. I did it myself."