"Why'd you do it, Evelyn?" Detective Harris leaned forward, his voice low but firm. The dim light in the interrogation room cast sharp shadows across his face. "Why kill him?"

Evelyn stared at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with her finger. "You wouldn't understand," she murmured.

"Try me," Harris said, his tone softening. He knew he had to tread carefully with her. "Was it the money? The affair?"

She shook her head slowly. "It wasn't just one thing. It was everything—his lies, the control, the way he looked at me like I was nothing."

"Control?" Harris prompted. "You felt trapped?"

Evelyn met his eyes for the first time. "More than trapped. I was suffocating."

"So you saw a way out," Harris said, leaning back slightly. "And you took it."

"I had to," she whispered. "There was no other choice."

"Did you plan it alone?" Harris pressed, sensing the crack in her resolve. "Or did someone help you?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "No one helped me."

"Evelyn," he said, his voice steady, "we've been through this. We know you didn't do this alone. The evidence points to someone else being involved. Who are you protecting?"

She looked away again, her hands trembling slightly on the table. "You don't understand," she repeated. "He deserved it."

"Who, Evelyn? Who are you protecting?" Harris pushed, his patience wearing thin.

A long silence stretched between them, the weight of the truth hanging in the air. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was me. I did it. I planned everything."

Harris frowned. "But the accounts show that someone else moved the money. Someone else covered your tracks."

Evelyn's eyes flicked up to meet his, a sad smile playing on her lips. "You think I'm protecting someone?"

"Aren't you?" Harris leaned in closer. "If you confess now, it'll be easier for you. Just tell me who helped you."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, they were filled with a quiet resolve. "You're right," she said softly. "I didn't do it alone."

Harris felt a surge of triumph. "Who was it?"

Evelyn's gaze never wavered. "You already know who."

Harris's smile faltered. "What are you talking about?"

Evelyn leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It was you."

His heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"You've been part of this from the start," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "You think I didn't know? You moved the money. You covered my tracks. We were in this together."

Harris's mind raced. "That's insane. I'm a detective, Evelyn. I'm the one questioning you."

"And I'm the one confessing," she said, her voice calm, almost serene. "But if I go down, you go down with me."

Harris felt the room closing in on him. "This is a game," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're trying to twist this."

Evelyn smiled, a sad, knowing smile. "It's not a game, Harris. It's the truth. And you know it."

He stared at her, his world unraveling with every word she spoke. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," she said, leaning back in her chair, "I'm tired of being the only one who suffers."

A long silence filled the room, the tension palpable. Finally, Harris spoke, his voice barely audible. "What do you want from me?"

Evelyn's expression softened. "Just one thing."

Harris swallowed hard. "What?"

She leaned in close, her eyes piercing his. "Say it."

He hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of fear and disbelief. But he knew he was trapped, just as she had been. With a shaky breath, he whispered, "I do."