Chapter 68 68. Trouble
They left me alone in that room for what felt like hours, though it was probably minutes-minutes to replay every stupid thing I'd said, every sentence that would end up twisted into evidence.
The door finally opened. A guard gestured for me to stand.
"Let's go, Sterling."
My legs felt heavy as I pushed myself up, the handcuffs biting into my wrists. He guided me down a narrow hallway, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and I could hear a familiar angry voice ahead.
"-don't care what time it is, Jonathan. Get your entire team down here. Now."
Lucien.
We rounded the corner and there he was, pacing like a caged animal, phone pressed to his ear. When he saw me, his face cracked.
"Who the fuck is Miranda Stone? Don't send me baby lawyers," he snarled into the phone. "I want my head lawyer and the full team at this precinct in thirty minutes or you're all fired." He hung up and reached me in three quick strides.
"Lucien-" I started, but he cut over me.
"Are you hurt? Did they touch you?"
"I'm fine. I just-"
"Mr. Hayes." The guard called firmly. "Step back."
Lucien ignored him, his hands straightening my hair. "I'm getting you out of here. The lawyers-"
"Lucien." I said his name softly. When he didn't react, I lifted my cuffed hands and pressed my palm against his chest.
He stilled.
"Lucien." I lifted my hands to his cheeks. The guard watched with growing impatience, but I held his face anyway.
His jaw was clenched so tight. His eyes were wild, darting between mine like he couldn't land on just one.
"I'm okay," I whispered, even though we both knew I wasn't. The smile I tried for came out crooked. My hand stayed on his cheek, thumb brushing the warm, damp skin there.
Slowly, so slowly, I felt him start to breathe again. Felt the rigid tension in his shoulders ease just a fraction.
"Alright, that's enough." The guard stepped forward. "Hayes, you need to move back."
"One minute," Lucien said without looking at him.
"Now."
Lucien's eyes stayed locked on mine as he stepped back, and the loss of his warmth felt like someone had peeled away the only thing holding me upright.
They led me farther down the hall. I looked back once. He stood there, fists balled, watching until I disappeared around the corner.
The processing area was colder than the hallway. They took my photo, rolled my fingers in ink, logged my details like I was already convicted.
They took me to a small room next, where a woman in an expensive charcoal suit was waiting. She looked to be in her early forties, dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, sharp eyes that seemed to catalogue everything at once.
"Miss Sterling." She stood, then paused when she noticed the cuffs. "Miranda Stone. Hayes' Legal."
I sat across from her. The door opened again and Lucien strode in. A uniform tried to block him.
"Family only-"
"She's my fiancée." It wasn't true, but the officer seemed too tired to argue.
"The evidence against you is substantial," Miranda began, laying out documents on the table. "The prosecution has black box data from your vehicle showing you were traveling way above speed limit. You made a sudden stop, remained stationary for approximately three minutes, then continued driving."
My stomach dropped.
"They found the victim's DNA on the front of your car. Forensics will confirm whether the damage to your vehicle is consistent with striking a pedestrian."
"I... st.. stopped..." I stammered. "I got out to check but there was no one there."
"The drugs in your system would explain hallucinations," Miranda pointed out, but not unkindly.
"What drugs?" I looked at her sharply. "I don't do drugs."
"Hallucinogens were found in your apartment during the search warrant execution. And from the scene at your mother's house-"
"What scene?" Lucien and I asked simultaneously.
Miranda exchanged a glance with Lucien. "The footage from the night you found your mother. You were disoriented, and the responding officers called for possible medical evaluation."
That bastard. He'd planned the timing alright.
"I just escaped from a kidnapper and found my mother's dead body!" I slammed my fist. "Was I supposed to be smiling and dancing??"
"We could argue that," Miranda pulled out another document. "But there's more. They found a 9mm pistol in your trunk with your fingerprints on it."
"That's... that's... WHAT? I've never even touched one in my life!"
"The fingerprints say otherwise."
"Then someone planted them," Lucien stated, his hand finding my balled ones on the table. "Someone is setting you up."
"Proving that is the challenge. The prosecution has a strong case: you took drugs, struck the victim, stopped to assess the damage, panicked, and fled the scene. Your blood will be taken for blood work. The toxicology report will show you were hallucinating. They'll dismiss your-"
I felt tears burning behind my eyes. "So they already think I'm guilty."
"They have evidence that suggests guilt," Miranda corrected. "But there are inconsistencies. The victim had fresh restraint marks on her wrists. She'd been bound for hours, possibly days, before her death. There are also older scars, signs of long-term abuse."
"And her positioning too." Lucien chipped in. "I mean, who just stands perfectly still on the road unless being placed there, someone who was already injured or incapacitated."
"That's the theory we'll present," Miranda agreed.
Lucien brushed a hand through my hair. "The bail hearing is at 9 a.m."
I closed my eyes, trying to swallow the tight ball of fear in my throat. The blood test would show drugs. It would show everything Ronan planned.
"Will I even get bail?" I asked.
Miranda didn't answer that. "Trials can take months. Maybe a year, depending on scheduling."
That only heightened my fear. I could be in jail for a year before I even got to defend myself.
"Everything comes down to the bail hearing tomorrow morning," I heard Miranda closing her file.
The knock on the door made me open my eyes.
"Time's up. We need to move her to holding."
"Can I have a moment with her?" Lucien asked. "One minute."
The officer nodded and stepped out, leaving the door cracked.
Lucien shrugged off his suit jacket. "It might get cold." He draped it over my shoulders, the silk lining still warm from his skin.
Then he looked at my bare feet. Without saying a word, he crouched and started unlacing his shoes.
"What are you doing?"
"You can't walk around barefoot." He slipped off his leather oxfords and socks. He lifted my foot gently and slid it into his sock and shoe.
The shoe swallowed my entire foot. I could've fit both feet in one. It dragged a broken laugh out of me.
"I look ridiculous."
"You look perfect." He put on the second shoe, then stood barefoot on the cold floor.
The officer opened the door wider. "Let's go, Sterling."
Lucien pulled me up gently and wrapped his arms around me. I pressed my face into his chest, breathing him in.
"Tomorrow morning," he assured. "You'll be out tomorrow morning."
I wanted to believe that, but as they led me away, his jacket drowning my frame and his shoes slipping off my heels, I felt hope starting to crack.
The holding cell smelled like unwashed bodies and despair. Three other women were already there, and one recognized me immediately.
"That's Hayes' bitch from the news," she sneered.
I simply sat on the edge of the bench, pulling Lucien's jacket tighter.
The hours crawled. The women eventually stopped trying to get my attention. Someone down the hall screamed. The lights never turned off.
Ronan had planned this perfectly.
A tear slipped down my cheek. I pressed my face into Lucien's jacket.
"Please," I whispered. "Please, God. Please, Clara." My voice broke. "I know you died hating me. I know this is your fault. But please... I don't know... help me... Just this once."
I didn't sleep all through the night, and finally, it was time for my hearing.
The moment I saw the judge's face, I knew how it was gonna end...