Begging for a Second Chance (Sienna Sloan and Jarred Sterling) novel Chapter 128

Celeste reached down and started unrolling the bandages on her leg.

The gauze was wrapped tightly. After just a few loops, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead.

Helena desperately wanted to help but was terrified of causing her pain. "Celeste, let the doctor do it."

Celeste looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, glancing from Jarred to the young officer. "Officer, could you call a medical examiner for me?"

"Right away!"

The young officer nodded and immediately brought the coroner over.

The coroner crouched down, carefully removing Celeste's bandages layer by layer.

The white gauze piled onto the floor, growing into a mound until the skin beneath was finally exposed.

Sienna's breath hitched.

She couldn't diagnose any internal injuries, but the external ones...

The edges of the wound consisted of scorched, shriveled flesh. It was charred black, with dark red patches of raw, healing tissue exposed in places.

From the knee up, there was practically not a single patch of intact skin.

Jarred watched the coroner's work closely, his frown deepening with every passing second.

Helena and Eleanor gasped sharply, quickly looking away before gazing at Celeste with pained expressions.

Even the young male officer awkwardly averted his eyes.

It was Sienna's first time seeing Celeste's injury up close.

That strike from the stun baton had undeniably achieved the exact damage she had intended.

But what made her heart plummet was that the burn area perfectly covered the entire outer expanse of Celeste's left thigh.

Underneath the blackened, ruined skin, absolutely nothing could be identified.

The coroner examined it thoroughly, stood up, and shook his head at the young officer.

The young officer sighed, pulled another photo from his file folder, and handed it to Sienna.

"Ms. Sloan, this is an old photo from Ms. Carlyle's social media. In this shot where she's wearing a short skirt, there's no red mole in that spot.

Furthermore, her family confirmed she's never had a red mole there in her entire life."

"Which family member?" Sienna blurted out.

The moment the words left her mouth, she knew it was a stupid question.

Holding his gaze, Sienna's voice came out as steady as solid ice.

"Jarred, did you lie?"

She was well-versed in psychology, an expert at catching any flaw through micro-expressions.

She stared at him unblinkingly, analyzing every twitch of his face.

The space between his brows, the corners of his eyes, the curve of his lips—no subtle shift could escape her.

She had seen countless liars and was confident she could read the truth on anyone's face.

Yet, she couldn't read him.

His face was a blank slate.

No guilt, no remorse, not even anger.

He simply looked at her like she was a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, completely out of patience, just waiting for her to tire herself out.

After a long time—so long that Sienna became hyper-aware of her own rising dread—she suddenly remembered something.

She felt her voice trembling. "Yesterday... I saw Celeste at the police station. Did she meet with the hitman?"