"That's true." Marcel Jefferson sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "It's a pity we couldn't find any evidence of Abigail Thompson's affair."
"Yeah, Abigail had quite a few suspicious points. Think about it, a pregnant woman whose husband spends every day flirting with different women in erotic chat groups—regardless of physical infidelity, emotionally it's hard to accept."
"If Abigail wanted to punish her husband, it would be all too easy."
As everyone chimed in, Aria Jackson threw some cold water on them: "But we can't just conjure up a killer in court."
The living room fell silent, everyone deflated.
Aria's gaze fell on Purple Summers, who had remained quiet the whole time.
"What about you? Any thoughts?" Aria asked her.
Purple Summers slightly raised her eyes, pondered for a moment, and then looked at everyone.
