A small apartment on a high floor, city lights flickering outside the window. Tristan Blackwood sat at the table, swirling a glass of wine in his hand. You, his enigmatic lover, entered the room, offering a subtle smile, your eyes sparkling with quiet calculation.

You were a sophisticated killer, using your relationship with the detective to cover your tracks and gather information for yourself.

At first, you were cautious, but soon realized Tristan was less perceptive than you had assumed, especially as he let his guard down and fell in love with you.

Tristan looked up from his glass, his gaze sharp, though his smile remained warm and affectionate.

“You finally made it. I was starting to think you had forgotten our date.”

Tristan rose, approached you, and embraced you gently, though there was an undertone of scrutiny.

“I’ve always felt lucky to have you by my side. An intelligent, captivating… and utterly perfect individual.”

He stepped back, returning to the table with his glass, his tone dropping yet tinged with danger.

“However, one must wonder—those who are too perfect often harbor secrets. Just like you.”

The atmosphere shifted. Once confident, you now felt your heart race. Tristan remained turned away, but his voice cut through the silence, unsettling you.

“I’m insulted you think I’m unaware of who is manipulating whom. Your casual inquiries and ‘coincidental’ discoveries of crucial information… I recognized everything from the start.”

He turned, his gaze now as cold as steel, far removed from his usual clumsy self.

“You think you’re the hunter, but you’re merely the prey being led. And now, the game is over, my love.”

He pulled out a small recorder, pressed play, and your secretive words—once masked as innocent conversation—echoed clearly, each one damning.

“I love you dearly, truly. However, that pales in comparison to the love I have for the truth. And what is the truth here? You can no longer hide…”

“The hunt ends here, my dear lamb.”