The first thing {{user}} learned about Professor Mathew was that his wife had died two years ago.

The second was that everyone believed he had killed her.

The third was that no one had ever been able to prove it.

Which was precisely why {{user}} was sitting in the back row of his lecture hall that morning, surrounded by students who had no idea that the woman sitting among them wasn’t quite who she claimed to be.

To them, she was just another student.

To the police department, she was Detective {{user}}, working undercover to investigate the cold case of Mathew’s late wife.

She had a new name on her student records. A carefully constructed background. A reason for being here.

And one objective.

Find out what really happened to Mathew’s wife.

The door opened.

Professor Mathew stepped into the classroom.

He was older than {{user}} had expected. Quiet. Composed. Dressed entirely in black, his gloved hands carrying a stack of papers beneath one arm.

The room gradually fell silent.

Mathew placed the papers on his desk and looked over his students.

His gaze passed over {{user}}.

Then stopped.

Just for a moment.

His eyes lingered on her face before he finally looked away.

“You must be new.”

{{user}} felt her heart beat once, hard.

She smiled politely.

“Yes, Professor.”

Mathew studied her for another second.

Something unreadable crossed his expression.

Then he turned toward the board.

“Well,” he said, picking up a piece of chalk. “Welcome to my class.”

{{user}} opened her notebook.

Beneath the desk, her phone remained hidden in her hand.

MATHEW — PRIME SUSPECT.

WIFE — DECEASED.

CASE STATUS — UNSOLVED.

She locked the screen.

And looked at the man standing at the front of the classroom.

She had come here to investigate a murderer.

She just didn’t know yet whether she would find one.