"I'm okay with meeting my end, but this has nothing to do with my daughter Stella. I love her more than anything; I couldn't bear for her to be dragged into this mess. Please, just spare Stella..." Barbara pleaded for the last time.
However, the living room remained steeped in a prolonged silence.
Remington clenched his jaw, his deep-set eyes dark and unreadable.
He didn't respond, leaving Barbara to sway slightly, her hope extinguished.
Stella let out a stifled sob, and Barbara, in despair, lowered her head, imploring the police officer.
"Could I go change my clothes? At least let me leave my home looking decent in front of my husband and daughter."
She was wearing a simple nightgown, quite thin for the occasion.
Ordinarily, if a suspect didn't resist arrest and cooperated, the police wouldn't make a fuss over such a request.
But with Remington present, the officer handling the case didn't dare make a decision without his consent, turning to look at him.
Remington frowned slightly, and Martin, his voice cracking with age, said, "Remington, do I need to kneel before you?"
Finally, Remington told the officer, "It's your call."
The police put away the handcuffs. "Make it quick."
Stella quickly wiped away her tears and stepped forward to comfort Barbara, "Mom, let me help you."
But Barbara gently pushed her hand away. "Let your father come with me. It might be the last time I get to spend alone with him."
Stella burst into tears again.
Martin supported Barbara, and they made their way to the bedroom.
Remington glanced at the lead police officer.
The officer followed them, signaling the other two to guard the windows tightly.
Martin and Barbara seemed unaware, chatting as they went.
"I want you to pick out something nice for me to wear."
"Alright, and then I'll do your hair like the first time we met, how about that?"
Remington watched their retreating figures, his gaze complex.
Martin and Barbara had always shared a deep affection, and the West family home had always exuded a warm atmosphere. Remington had enjoyed spending time there as a child.
He never felt his mother's love from Hanna, but Barbara, his godmother, often filled that void, treating him better than Hanna ever did.
Over the years, his respect and affection for Barbara were genuine, yet he never imagined she could commit such a cruel act.
Remington's eyes darkened as he looked toward the staircase.
"I'm tired. Should I take you home?" he asked Lizetta.
Lizetta was indeed tired but didn't need Remington's escort. She shook her head.
"Thank you, but I can manage on my own."
Remington was still holding her hand tightly. Lizetta looked down, signaling him to let go.
But Remington held on. "Where are you planning to stay? Let Ray take you."
Lizetta pursed her lips, seeing Remington's concession, she knew she had no other option, and began to speak.
"I'll go to..."
However, before she could finish, a sudden outcry and commotion erupted from upstairs.
"Ray! Keep an eye on her."
Remington's expression shifted as he ordered Ray to step forward. Then, releasing Lizetta, he rushed upstairs, with Stella, still wiping her tears, following closely behind. Lizetta frowned, a sinking feeling in her heart, uncertain of what had transpired.
Upstairs, Remington reached the master bedroom door, which was open.
At a glance, he saw the scene within: Barbara hadn't changed her clothes. She lay on the bed, her face stiff and contorted, with foam at the mouth.
A syringe and a suicide note were found beside her.
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