Author's Note:In the Saw series, Jigsaw's wife is named Jill Tuck. To avoid confusion with the character Jill from Resident Evil, I've renamed her Betsy Tuck, after the actress who portrayed Jigsaw's wife in the films.
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Ding-Dong!
The doorbell rang, and a blonde woman appeared at the door. Though she seemed to be in her twenties, she was nearing forty. Her flawless complexion and youthful energy hid her true age well.
"Hello, officer. Can I help you?" Betsy asked with a hint of curiosity and confusion in her voice.
"Good evening, ma'am. I'm Officer Tristan, investigating a recent murder case. I was hoping to ask you a few questions—won't take too much of your time," Tristan flashed a polite but professional smile.
"Of course, come in." Betsy stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Despite her slight confusion, she felt no real anxiety. After all, she had nothing to hide—at least, not from the police.
Betsy was a gorgeous woman with a lovely figure, and her curves defied the passage of time. Tristan's eyes lingered briefly on her large, tempting breasts before shifting away.
"So, Ms. Tuck, how would you describe your outlook on life?" Tristan pulled out a notepad, pretending to make a casual inquiry.
With his physical strength and power exceeding that of ordinary people, he was not afraid of any potential dangers at all. Moreover, before coming here, he had already sprayed the Essence of Earnest Grace on himself.
Betsy smiled softly, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.
"Life is... unpredictable. But it's always good to be alive, no matter the devastation it brings."
Her smile carried a mix of warmth and something else—something only someone who had suffered a tragedy could produce.
Knowing her backstory and the miscarriage, Tristan nodded and took a sip of the rich coffee. The flavor was bold, just like her.
"You've got a great perspective," he said, putting the cup down as his tone shifted subtly. "And you're beautiful too… I have to ask, are you seeing anyone right now?"
Betsy raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smirk.
"Oh? Are you hitting on me, officer?"
Her voice was playful and bold, unrestrained by modesty. After all, a mature woman didn't need to hide behind coyness.
"Can you blame me?" Tristan shot back, his smile equally suggestive. "A woman like you... any man would be a fool not to try. But really, are you involved with anyone?"
Betsy chuckled.
"No, no one at the moment. What about you, Tristan? Are you asking just for the case, or for yourself?"
Tristan leaned forward slightly.
"Maybe both. But actually, I wanted to ask—your ex-husband, John... He's a bit of a famous architect, isn't he? I don't suppose you still have his number."
"Oh my, you truly have a knack for pleasing women, don't you? Of course, I still have his number. But what do you need from him?"
"For one, I'm looking to buy an apartment, and I'd like some advice on cost-effective decoration plans. Maintaining social order isn't much of a profitable job, so I'm hoping he can help me stretch the budget."
Obviously, the so-called "ex-husband" he spoke of was none other than John Kramer, the infamous psycopath, the Jigsaw Killer.
However, John didn't like killing, and his philosophy was clear—he didn't kill anyone directly. If you could pass his game, you would survive, but you need to pay a price.
"Sure, give me a moment. I'll call him for you."
Betsy, feeling an odd sense of ease around Tristan, picked up her phone without hesitation. "We've been divorced for years, but we still keep in touch."
She dialed the number, and the line quickly connected.
"John? I've got a police officer here, and he wants to speak with you."
—"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
Hearing John's faint voice from the other end, Betsy hung up and turned to Tristan with a smile.
"He'll be here in fifteen minutes. By the way, how's the coffee?"
"Delicious. Thank you for your hospitality." Tristan's gaze lingered on her a little longer than necessary. "You know, you're incredibly beautiful. Maybe we could have dinner together sometime—if you're free, of course."
Betsy laughed lightly, though there was a touch of flattery in her expression.
"Are you serious? With the age difference, I'm not sure if you're joking."
"I'm completely serious. If you give me the chance, I'd love to show you just how sincere I can be."
As he spoke, he stood up, and before Betsy could fully process his words, he gently took her hands and pulled her into his arms.
"How about a hug, for instance? Just a friendly one," he said with a smile, pretending to be completely oblivious that he was already hugging her.
Betsy hesitated for a moment, taken aback by his boldness. But something about Tristan—the way he presented himself, the calm confidence in his eyes—made her drop her guard.
"Why not?" she murmured and allowed herself to fall into his arms.
There were many reasons why she let him in.
The first was undoubtedly the magical effect of the Essence of Earnest Grace, which made her feel that there was an inexplicable connection between them, as if Tristan held a certain aura—a magnetism that made him seem like a trusted, long-lost friend.
It was something deep within her subconscious that allowed her to relax.
Then, of course, there was the loneliness she had buried deep inside for years. Since her divorce and the miscarriage, Betsy had endured long stretches of isolation, pretending to be strong but always yearning for warmth.
She had been alone for far too long.
Consequently, in this moment, whether Tristan's affection was genuine or fleeting, she welcomed it. Her subconscious whispered that she could trust him, and for now, that was enough.
But what Betsy didn't anticipate was what came next.
In the middle of their embrace, she felt something hard pressing against her abdomen. Her breath hitched, and her body tensed for a second as the realization sank in.
Undeniably, it was Tristan's erect cock, and she could feel the warmth and hardness through her clothes.
Her eyes widened slightly, both startled and intrigued.
More than that, his size was... impressive.
"Do you feel my sincerity, madam?" Tristan asked, his voice lowering as he whispered in her ear, slowly grinding his hips against her. "This is the proof of your irresistible charm."
"Hmm…"
Betsy let out a soft groan, stirring awake the long-suppressed desire inside her. It had been years since she'd felt this—this kind of raw, undeniable attraction.
"I can feel it... It's good to be young."
She whispered in a voice that was full of lustful longing. The tone of her words caught Tristan off guard, though he masked his surprise well.
Since stepping through the door, he'd been pushing her limits slowly, inching closer with each teasing remark, testing her reactions, and gauging the effect of the Essence of Earnest Grace.
He'd known Betsy might be easy to sway because of her past, but even he hadn't anticipated such an immediate, trusting response from a woman who'd just met him.
'It seems that perfume is even more potent than I thought… But if that's the case, I can push things a little further,' he mused, and a wicked gleam of light flashed in his eyes for a brief moment.