Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace (Dexter and Phoebe) novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177 

“He kidnapped me, and he threatened my husband, harmed him…” I murmured, laying out the bare facts with a hushed voice. 

Dexter’s gaze upon me grew more intense, a sneer forming on his lips. “Kidnapped you? Where’s your proof? I’m willing to face an investigation.” 

With the police in tow, Dexter left. As he did, his piercing look lingered on me. “Foebe, you’ll regret this.” 

He seemed convinced that Colin would be the death of me. And when that time came, I’d surely regret not taking his advice. 

“Phoebe…” Colin, pale as a ghost, stumbled over to me, his energy sapped as he leaned into me, his chin resting on my shoulder. “It hurts so bad.” 

I tensed up, whispering back at him. “Did you call the cops on your way here?” 

“Yeah…” Colin admitted to having called for help en route. 

Well, he wasn’t as naive as he seemed. 

This time, Dexter had messed with someone he couldn’t afford to. 

“Mr. Caleb was very worried about you,” Eric spoke up respectfully. 

My gaze flickered to Eric, complex emotions swirling. What was his connection to the murderer? 

Was he acting on Colin’s behalf? 

Colin tried to lead me away, but I stood frozen in place. He looked back at me, confusion and fear in his eyes. 

“What’s the deal with the person at the courtyard house?” I croaked, my voice ragged as I faced Colin. 

Better to ask outright than to harbor mutual suspicions. 

It took a long while before Colin spoke. “His name’s Dorian, from the orphanage as well, fifteen years old. He’s a survivor of the dorm fire from room 403, right next to where Carter and I were trapped.” 

Room 403 was the neighboring dorm where many children perished that year. 

Dorian was one of those survivors. His severe burns made it nearly impossible to discern his face and his age. All I could tell was that he was tall and thin, like the murderer haunting my memories. 

“He’s not the murderer…” Colin murmured. 

I turned to Robin, questioning. 

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Chapter 177 

Robin nodded at me. “It’s all checked out. The kid’s indeed fifteen, a minor. With severe burns, 

he’s frail and hardly ever goes out. It’s just him and his sister struggling to get by. And I checked his arm, no sign of the red birthmark you mentioned.” 

I massaged my temples, fighting a headache. Had I been mistaken? 

No, the person who’d visited my home, who’d spoken to me, had to be him. 

Dorian? 

But the man who tried to kill me had a red birthmark on his arm. 

“He’s been to my house, right?” I pressed Robin. 

Robin confirmed with a nod. “Yeah, the kid’s been up to petty theft, no income or livelihood. He’s a small–time thief.” 

“Then was it him who knocked Stella out? The body we saw at Phoebe’s house that day…” My voice trembled as I spoke again. 

Robin shook his head. “Not him. He has an alibi. He’s at the hospital monthly for meds, and the staff, along with surveillance footage, have him there the whole time. So the one who hurt Stella, who killed that night, wasn’t Dorian.” 

I didn’t believe it. It wasn’t my imagination; there was something off about that guy.