Chapter 45 Push Her into Hell
Quinley's mind was in chaos. She didn't have time to think it through, only to comfort Marlee.
"Mom, don't cry. Get Dad to the hospital first. Denny is fine—it's just a minor surgery." She forcefully suppressed the anger and grief churning inside her, but tears still spilled over.
"Quinny, come as soon as you finish your business. I can't handle this without you."
"Okay." Quinley hung up, leaning back in her seat with eyes and lips tightly shut.
Dennis had clearly turned the corner, yet suddenly something went wrong at this crucial moment. Someone had "kindly" informed Colin and Marlee, and just when her family needed her most, John had come after Quinley.
Everything was too coincidental—so coincidental that Quinley couldn't help but be suspicious. It was like she'd been cursed: exposed publicly by Sylvia the night before, then pushed into hell the next day.
Who was so eager to drag her down? The officer beside her glanced at her with a complex expression, seeming to want to say something but ultimately remaining silent.
Quinley stared fixedly at one spot. "In great affairs, one must maintain composure"—Zachary had told her that. Right now, the only thing she needed to do was let her boiling blood cool down.
At the police station, she was quickly led to an interrogation room where two officers began taking her statement.
"Do you recognize this contract?" One officer showed her evidence in a plastic bag.
She glanced at it and shook her head. "Never seen it."
"What about this?" He produced a round company seal, also bagged.
Quinley shook her head blankly.
"This contract was mailed from your apartment complex in the south district. This seal was found in your purse. Quinley, please confess honestly!"
The other officer raised his voice, his expression stern and authoritative.
Quinley leaned back in her chair, her eyes clear and cold as water. "I truly don't know anything about this."
Faced with baseless accusations, she couldn't prove her innocence. The only thing she could do was remain silent.
That night, Quinley was put in a holding cell. She was anxious—how were Dennis and Colin? She desperately wanted to know, but her phone had been confiscated and she couldn't make calls.
She didn't sleep that night, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest until dawn. Who exactly wanted to drag her into hell?
Was it Alicia? She certainly had motive—her strange behavior the night before made these troubles seem logical.
Of course, it could also be Sylvia. Quinley had been her pawn, someone she thought she could control at will. But regarding Zachary, Sylvia was clearly angry with her.
And what role did John play? Was this revenge, or was he just a tool being used? And who would use him?
Quinley thought and thought, but the tangled mess in her head remained unsolvable.
No one came to question her further—she was just kept there. By the second day, Quinley began to sense something was wrong.
Sitting and waiting wasn't her style. Adapting to circumstances was.
"I need to call my lawyer," she requested.
"You have a lawyer?" The officer looked at her in surprise.
Quinley nodded. "You brought me here to solve problems, didn't you? It's almost been forty-eight hours. Keeping me here longer isn't worth it for you."
Her attitude was gentle but neither servile nor arrogant. She gave them a number, and they made the call for her.
Of course Quinley didn't have a lawyer, but Zachary did. She was too ashamed to call Zachary for help directly, but she could call his lawyer, Jameson Pierce. This roundabout approach was something Quinley was good at.
About half an hour later, Jameson arrived. Quinley met him in the interrogation room and bowed slightly. "Mr. Pierce, thank you for coming."
When she'd been Zachary's secretary, she'd dealt with Jameson frequently. They had some rapport, though strictly professional.
"Ms. Elikin, you're too polite. This isn't a big matter—I can handle it. As for Mr. Jennings..." He probed tentatively.
Quinley shook her head. "This is a personal favor I owe you."
She didn't close the door completely. Jameson was Zachary's man—even if she asked him not to tell Zachary, he might not keep the secret.
Soon, Jameson had processed Quinley's bail. Once free, she thanked him first. "Mr. Pierce, thank you. I have urgent business—I need to go."
Quinley hurried away, heading straight to the hospital. She went to Dennis's room first, where he lay thin and tall on the narrow bed.
Seeing Quinley rush in, he turned his head and forced a smile. "Quinley, what took you so long?"
Quinley approached, tears welling up, but she held them back. "Denny, you scared me to death."
Dennis slowly raised his hand to grab her arm, shaking it gently. "I'm fine, I'm really fine."
His voice was still weak, his face swollen, his large eyes reduced to slits.
"I'm glad you're okay." Quinley fought back her sobs.
Just then, a caregiver entered and walked straight to Dennis, reaching to roll up his pant leg. Quinley looked over suspiciously.
Dennis explained, "Dr. Brown said lying down too long would cause muscle atrophy in my legs, so he got me a caregiver for massage."
The caregiver glanced at Quinley and skillfully massaged Dennis's calves.
"Thank you." The caregiver spoke English with an accent: "Why thank me? You paid, I do the work—that's how it should be."
Just then, David appeared.
"Well, well, look who's here!" He flashed a wicked smile, his gaze sweeping over Quinley.
"Playing hide and seek these past few days? Not answering calls or texts—what, trying to run away?" He teased Quinley while conducting a routine check on Dennis.
"I was tied up with things," Quinley said coldly.
"Your sister almost ran off—you'd better keep a close eye on her," David joked with Dennis.
Dennis smiled proudly. "My sister isn't that kind of person."
"Dr. Brown, come out here." Quinley didn't wait for David to finish examining Dennis. She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him from the room.
"Hey, let go! Careful, or I might hold onto you for life!" David grinned wickedly, making a big show of protesting.
In the hallway, Quinley cornered David against the wall. Despite her small frame, she had presence—one arm braced against the wall, forcing him back.
"How did you get my family's phone number?" Her eyes bored into David.
He knew Zachary, but they didn't seem to get along, so David approaching Zachary was unlikely. Besides, Zachary didn't have her family's number either.
"That's all?" David shrugged and rolled his eyes at her. "So ungrateful!"
Quinley moved closer, her chest nearly touching his abdomen. "Confess!"
David burst out laughing. He'd always thought Quinley was a little lamb, never realizing she had a wolf's instincts.
"Fine, I'll confess." He raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing.
But just as he was about to speak, his gaze shifted to something behind Quinley.