<div style="text-align: justify;">New York, 1922<br/>April 15th<br/>2:02 p.m.<br/><br/>Rebecca took a deep breath, feeling nervous. This moment would define her life from now on. She had to make sure this man trusted her. He needed to believe her story and help her prove her innocence. And in a way, she did consider herself innocent. She had not planned on killing Angus. She had never harmed another human being in life. No, Rebecca was not a violent person. She had always been meek and well behaved. Maybe way too meek. Wasn't her behavior the reason why she had been abused? Had she been more assertive and this wouldn't have happened.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath, Rebecca tried to stop thinking about Angus. Thinking about him would do her no good. No, she had to calm down and try not to give herself away.<br/><br/>Nodding almost pathetically when the man showed her the newspaper, Rebecca looked at it. "Yes... of course", she replied to his invitation, almost out of breath. After some hesitation, the woman followed the man inside and closed the door. Thinking about how Angus looked lying there, Rebecca closed her eyes, color vanishing from her face.<br/><br/>"I never thought this could happen!", she exclaimed, sincerely. "It's just so horrible... he was... lying there, and the blood...". The tears bursting from her eyes were real. "I... never... I'm sorry, it's just... so horrible, at one moment he was alive and... speaking, and... then... gone, just like this". The woman tried to control herself, her hands gripping one another tightly. "I'm sorry, as you can imagine, it's not easy... I apologize".<br/><br/>Rubbing her eyes, the woman started speaking. "We had decided to stay home for the night. Angus was not particularly happy to stay in, but... I didn't feel like going out. We exchanged words about it, and I even said he could go. But he didn't want to. So, I went to bed, leaving him in his study. The window was open, as he was smoking, I noticed that much". Mrs. Sinclair shook her head and pursed her lips. It was clear her husband's smoking didn't really make her happy. Sighing, she continued.<br/><br/>"His study is on the first floor, at the northern part of the house. My bedr... our bedroom, is upstairs, facing east. I didn't hear much, as you can imagine. Janet - she is one of our maids, a lovely lady - came running upstairs, saying something I couldn't quite understand. I thought he had had some... I don't know, a heart attack, or something... nothing could have prepared him for that. He was... there, and there was the blood... and a paper weight. It was made of bronze, and... in the shape of a diamond... like the ones in the playing cards...". "Oh, my God!", she exclaimed. "I can't just sit here and... talk about this".</div>