MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

The dim glow of the computer screen cast an eerie pall over Rose's features, accentuating the hollows beneath her eyes and the sharp angles of her cheekbones. Fatigue had etched itself into every line of her face, a physical manifestation of the relentless pursuit that had consumed her waking hours.

Yet, for all the weariness that threatened to overwhelm her, a spark of determination burned brighter than ever before. A glimmer of hope, faint but present, flickered to life amidst the endless morass of data and half-truths.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard, a flurry of keystrokes that felt as natural as breathing. The digital landscape shifted and reformed with each command, terabytes of information coalescing into patterns and anomalies that beckoned to be unraveled.

It started as a mere whisper, a faint discrepancy in the data stream that might have gone unnoticed by a less discerning eye. But Rose was nothing if not thorough, her senses honed to a razor's edge by the countless hours spent sifting through the digital detritus.

The police wouldn't provide her the evidence they had on Blake other than eyewitness and DNA samples of him on Becky. But there was something else she could use. She tried to see security footages of the incidence but that proved futile as there wasn't any at Becky's house.

However, the subway wasn't a place without one. She began to look through the footages and one thing seemed lacking.

She pursued the anomaly, her focus narrowing until the world around her faded into insignificance. This was her element, her domain – the realm of ones and zeroes where truth could be plucked from the ether if one knew where to look. She didn't build a tech company by being a dunse in that aspect herself.

Centuries of existence was more than enough time to amass knowledge in the world of hacking and decoding.

The trail led her deeper, peeling back layers of obfuscation and misdirection until the faintest outline of a pattern emerged. Fragments of code, snippets of encrypted data.

Rose's heart raced, her fingers flying across the keys as she followed the breadcrumb trail deeper into the digital labyrinth. Firewalls parted before her like curtains, their defenses no match for her skill and determination.

And then, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkest recesses of a storm-tossed night, the truth revealed itself.

Rose's breath caught in her throat as the pieces fell into place, the tangled web of deceit and manipulation unraveling before her very eyes. She recoiled from the screen, her mind reeling from the implications of what she had uncovered.

"It can't be..." she murmured, her voice a mere whisper in the stillness of her penthouse sanctuary.

The evidence was damning, a trail of breadcrumbs that led straight to the heart of Damien Durello's twisted machinations. Playback footages from street cams, the ones at the subway and even the body cams on the officer's body all pointed to the existence of one thing ...mimic

Rose's hands trembled as she pored over the information, her mind struggling to process the implications. She went back to a particular footage from her office fire months ago and watched it as well. The speed, the grace and the unnatural feel of it all. She could tell this was one of hers.

The mimic, a shapeshifting abomination capable of seamlessly impersonating its targets, had been the instrument of Blake's downfall.

The failed assassination attempt on Becky, the damning evidence left in its wake – it had all been a meticulously orchestrated ruse, a trap designed to ensnare Blake and bring about his ruination. She also recalled the incident that happened when her company was burnt down. The blonde lady who was knocked unconscious that morning...

Anger roiled within Rose, a white-hot fury that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Damien, that twisted puppet master, her ex-lover, had played her for a fool, dancing on the strings of Elena's ambition and jealousy.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, compiling the evidence into a cohesive whole.

"They shot at this copy of Blake and it hit from the video. Yet, Blake is injury free so can they explain that?! Why haven't they brought it up yet?!"

As the final pieces fell into place, Rose's heart soared with a renewed sense of hope. This was it, the breakthrough she had been searching for, the key to unraveling the tangled web of lies that had ensnared Blake.

A triumphant smile curved her lips, the first genuine expression of joy she had allowed herself in what felt like an eternity. She had done it, unearthed the truth from the digital ether and forged it into a weapon that could shatter the foundations of the false narrative that had taken root.

With a few keystrokes, she initiated the transfer of the compiled evidence, sending it securely to her legal team and the authorities overseeing Blake's case. The data streamed through secure channels, a digital Pandora's box filled with the seeds of Blake's exoneration.

As the upload completed, Rose leaned back in her chair, a weary sigh of relief escaping her lips. The weight that had borne down upon her seemed to lift, if only for a fleeting moment, replaced by the heady rush of vindication.

She had done it, uncovered the truth that would set Blake free and expose the depths of Elena's treachery. The path ahead remained shrouded in uncertainty, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Rose allowed herself to bask in the glow of hope.

Her reverie was shattered by the insistent chiming of her phone, the shrill tone cutting through the silence like a knife. Rose frowned, her brow furrowing as she glanced at the caller ID.

It was her legal counsel, the one spearheading Blake's defense.

A tendril of unease snaked its way through her momentary euphoria as she answered the call, her voice guarded. "Yes?"

"Ms. Shelley," the voice on the other end was clipped, professional. "We received your data transfer and have begun analyzing the contents."

Rose's heart leapt into her throat, her grip tightening on the phone. "And?" she prompted, barely daring to breathe.

"While the information you've provided is... illuminating, to say the least, I'm afraid it falls short of constituting ironclad evidence of Blake's innocence."

The words hit Rose like a physical blow, the euphoria draining from her in an instant. "What?" she rasped, her voice little more than a croak. "But...you can see clearly that it isn't Blake. I mean they shot at him but he has no bullet wounds, explain that?!" Rose was starting to lose it.

"Yes, and we can certainly use this to build a case but the again, we can't do that," the lawyer acknowledged. "As far as Blake's direct involvement in the attempted murder, the evidence remains circumstantial at best."

Rose's free hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist, her nails digging into her palm hard enough to draw blood. "That's not possible," she growled, her voice laced with desperation. Look at the speed that person who has disguised as Blake is moving. Does that look human in anah way? Can't you see someone is trying to frame Blake?!"

"I understand your frustration, lord Shelley," the lawyer replied, his tone softening ever so slightly. "But without a direct link between the mimic and the attack on Ms. Owens, without irrefutable proof that it was the creature and not Blake himself, the case remains tenuous."

Rose's breath came in ragged gasps, her mind whirling with a maelstrom of emotions. She had been so close, so tantalizingly close to the breakthrough that would set Blake free.

But now, the walls seemed to close in around her once more, the glimmer of hope flickering and fading like a candle flame in the wind.

"Is this a matter of evidence or something else?" Rose thought of something and had to ask.

"Hmmm... You are correct about your suspicions, lord Shelly. If you must know, the counsel have their eyes on this matter. You recall that there's suspicions around our existence courtesy of your own poor judgement. As it is, the evidence you have presented to us will only implicate us, proving to the mortals that we do truly exist. We can't do that, I'm afraid," the lawyer said on the phone.

"What do I do?" she whispered, her voice laced with anguish. "How do I prove his innocence when the entire system seems stacked against us?"

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, a silence that stretched taut with unspoken implications.

"For now," the lawyer said at last, his voice grave. "We continue to build our case, to amass every shred of evidence we can find. But Ms. Shelley, you must prepare yourself for the possibility that it may not be enough."

The words hung in the air like a death knell, a harbinger of the bitter reality that Rose had fought so hard to deny.

Blake's freedom, his very future, hinged on a razor's edge, and Rose found herself teetering precariously between hope and despair.

As the call ended and the silence descended once more, Rose sank back into her chair, her body leaden with the weight of her failures. The evidence, the truth she had fought so hard to uncover, remained tantalizingly out of reach.

Her gaze drifted to the flickering screens, the lines of code and encrypted data that had once held such promise now seeming to mock her with their incomplete truths.

A bitter laugh, equal parts anguish and resignation, escaped her lips.

"So close," she murmured, her voice a mere whisper in the stillness that enveloped her. "And yet, so far away."

The path ahead stretched out before her, shrouded in uncertainty and doubt. The battle raged on, its end nowhere in sight, and Rose found herself adrift in a sea of desperation and dwindling hope.

But even in the depths of her despair, a single, unwavering truth remained – she would never give up, never surrender in her quest to see Blake exonerated and their lives restored.

Come what may, she would fight to the bitter end, her love for him the inextinguishable flame that would guide her through the darkness and into the light of truth.

As the shadows lengthened and the night enveloped her penthouse sanctuary, Rose steeled her resolve, her jaw set in a grim line of determination.

The war was far from over, and she would not rest until the final battle had been won.

No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifices, Blake's freedom would be hers once more.

It was a promise, etched into the very fabric of her being, a vow that burned brighter than the stars themselves.

And as she turned her gaze back towards the flickering screens, Rose allowed herself a fleeting smile, one tinged with the bittersweet taste of hope tempered by grim determination.

The path ahead would be arduous, fraught with pitfalls and setbacks.

But she was ready, her spirit forged in the crucible of adversity, her love for Blake the unbreakable tether that would see her through to the end.

The battle raged on, and Rose stood resolute, a warrior poised to conquer the darkness and bring the truth to light.

Come what may, she would not falter, not until the final victory was hers.