113

113
The sky outside Katherine’s Brooklyn apartment was an eerie shade of gray, as if the world itself had paused to hold its breath.
She stood by the window, arms folded tightly, staring blankly at the flickering taillights down below. Her mind had been racing for hours: Kingsley’s silence, Carolina’s failed attempts to retrieve Beth’s phone, the paranoia creeping in with every passing day. Something was wrong. Deeply, unmistakably wrong.

Her phone rang.
She snatched it up without checking the screen. “Carolina?”

But it wasn’t Carolina’s voice that answered. It was shaky, timid, the voice of a woman she didn’t recognize.
“Um… hi. Is this Katherine?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“This is Becky. I work at the Rowe residence with Angela. I-I didn’t know who else to call. I saw your number on Angela’s emergency contact list.”

Katherine’s stomach dropped. “What happened? Where’s Angela?”
A pause.
Then the words landed like gunshots.
“She’s been arrested.”

“What?” Katherine’s knees buckled slightly, and she grabbed the edge of the windowsill. “Arrested? For what?!”
“She was accused of stealing Mrs. Rowe’s diamond necklace. But she didn’t do it, I swear she didn’t. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I think… I think she was set up.”

Katherine’s breath caught in her throat.
No.
No, no, no.

Becky narrated to her what happened: the slap, the kick, the name-calling, the arrest.
Her heart began to race as the puzzle pieces clicked violently into place. The fake Kingsley. The threats. The slap. The necklace.
“Where is she now?” she asked quickly.
“Manhattan 14th Precinct. I don’t think they’ve charged her yet. They just took her in.”
“I’ll be there tonight.”
“Okay. I-I hope she’s okay. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

Katherine hung up and immediately grabbed her bag from the counter. She packed a few clothes.
She moved with fierce, determined energy, her breath shallow, her limbs trembling, but her mind laser-focused.
She threw her coat on, tied her hair back, and muttered to herself as she gathered her keys and phone.
“She did this for me. For Kingsley. She risked everything…”

Then she turned off the lights, locked the door, and walked out into the cold.
Manhattan was waiting.
And so was the truth.

The city shimmered under the orange hue of streetlights as Katherine’s cab pulled up to the precinct.
The building stood like a cold, bureaucratic monolith: gray brick, flickering overhead lights, and that familiar hum of city sirens just far enough to sound like background static. But nothing felt still inside Katherine’s chest.

She rushed out of the cab, barely registering the fare she tossed the driver, and stormed through the double glass doors.
Inside, the fluorescent lighting was merciless. The linoleum floors were scuffed, and the scent of stale coffee and paper dust clung to the air.

A bored-looking officer sat behind the front desk, flipping through a clipboard. He glanced up slowly.
“Yes?”
“I’m here for someone who was brought in today,” Katherine said quickly. “Her name is Angela. Angela Santos.”
“Are you her lawyer?”
“No. I’m… I’m her friend. Her emergency contact. I just need to see her. Please.”

The officer squinted at her, unimpressed. “You’re not allowed to speak to detainees unless you’re legal counsel or family. That’s the procedure.”
Katherine inhaled sharply, trying to hold her composure. “Please. She’s been wrongfully arrested. She was set up. This is a serious situation. She didn’t steal anything—”
“Ma’am,” the officer interrupted flatly, “unless you’re here with representation, I can’t let you past that door.”

Katherine’s fists clenched.
A younger officer, Officer Riley according to his badge, passed behind the desk just then. He caught the last of Katherine’s plea and paused.
“Did you say Angela Santos?”
“Yes,” Katherine turned to him, seizing the glimmer of possibility. “She was arrested earlier today. Please, can you help me?”

Riley exchanged a look with the older officer, then stepped closer. “She’s in holding. Quiet. Cooperative. Honestly, didn’t seem like the usual petty thief type.”
“She isn’t,” Katherine said, her voice breaking slightly. “She’s innocent.”
Riley looked at her carefully. Something in Katherine’s eyes must have struck him — desperation, fire, truth.
“I’ll let her know you came,” he said finally. “I can’t let you in, but maybe she’ll agree to send out a statement or message.”
“Thank you,” Katherine whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Please tell her I’m here. Tell her I’m going to fix this. We’re going to get her out.”

Riley nodded and disappeared behind the heavy door.
Katherine stood alone in the waiting area, her heart pounding. Every second felt like hours.
She walked over to a narrow bench by the wall and sank into it. She took out her phone, staring at the wallpaper of her and Carolina laughing by the café’s espresso machine — a simple, happy memory.
How had they gone from that… to this?

She rubbed her temples. “Beth. You heartless monster.”
She called four different law offices.
One didn’t pick up.
Two said they were closed.
One listened long enough to say, “Sorry, we don’t handle theft cases,” before hanging up.

Katherine’s hands trembled as she held her phone. The streetlights glowed dully, and taxis hissed by, blurring into yellow streaks against the night.
“I can’t leave her in there,” she whispered to herself. “She was trying to help Kingsley… she was doing this for me.”

She looked up, thinking. And then, suddenly, like a light flicking on — Devon.
Carolina had sent his number to her when she left for Manhattan, in case something came up.
Of course.

She unlocked her phone and dialed.
It rang twice.
“Hey,” Devon’s deep voice came through, tired but alert. “Who is this?”
“It’s Katherine,” she answered.
“Katherine? Is everything okay?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Carolina’s been arrested.”
Silence. Then: “What?! What the hell happened?”
“She was framed. She was accused of stealing Beth’s diamond necklace. It’s a mess. The police came and took her before she could defend herself. She’s at the 14th Precinct. I tried to see her, but they won’t let me in without legal representation.”
Devon swore under his breath. “Jesus Christ…”
“I’ve tried every number I could find. Nobody’s answering, or they won’t take the case. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You did the right thing,” Devon said firmly. “I know someone. A guy we’ve used internally. Smart. He doesn’t scare easily.”
“Really?” Katherine’s voice rose with hope. “Can you get him here? Please. I don’t care how much it costs.”
“I’ll cover it,” Devon said without hesitation. “Carolina’s family to me too.”

Katherine exhaled, tears filling her eyes again.
“Text me your location. I’ll send him directly to you.”
“Thank you, Devon. I mean it.”
“We’re gonna get her out,” he said. “And then we’re going to burn that witch Beth to the damn ground.”

Katherine nodded, even though he couldn’t see her.
She sat on the edge of a concrete planter, her arms still folded tightly, her foot bouncing with anxious energy. She kept checking the precinct doors, expecting someone to come out with news — or worse, not come out at all.

Then a sleek black BMW pulled up beside the curb. The back door opened, and out stepped a sharply dressed man in a black suit, no tie, and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked mid-forties, lean, confident, and carried a leather briefcase with the easy grace of someone used to walking into hostile rooms and taking charge.

“Katherine?” he asked, glancing around.
She stood immediately. “Yes. You must be the lawyer Devon sent?”
“That’s me. Julius Mercer. Corporate and criminal defense, twenty years in the game. Devon briefed me. He also said you’re not to worry about the bill. It’s already covered.”
“Oh my God, thank you,” Katherine said, voice trembling. “Carolina — she’s innocent. She’s being set up. She’s only in that house because of me.”

Mercer raised a hand calmly. “Let’s focus on the facts. You say she’s being framed. Can you give me a breakdown of everything that happened? Quickly.”
Katherine nodded. “Beth Rowe accused Carolina of stealing a diamond necklace and seducing her husband. But the truth is, her husband isn’t even her husband. It’s not Kingsley. It’s someone else. They’ve replaced him, and Carolina was trying to help me find out what really happened to him. She got caught in the middle of it. And now they’re framing her for something she didn’t do.”

Julius’s brows twitched slightly, but he stayed silent as he processed.
“I know it sounds crazy,” she added, “but I swear it’s the truth.”
“I’ve heard crazier,” Julius said with a faint smile. “And I’ve defended it too. That part about the impersonator might be harder to prove unless we get direct evidence, but I don’t need that to challenge the theft accusation.”

He opened his briefcase and pulled out a slim folder.
“I’ve already reviewed the charge paperwork. They’re holding her on suspicion of felony theft — the necklace apparently exceeds twenty-five grand in value — and attempted misconduct in a private residence.”
Katherine’s eyes widened in horror.
“She could be looking at real jail time?” she whispered.
“If she didn’t actually steal anything, and if we can prove coercion or misconduct on the part of the accuser or the alleged ‘Kingsley,’ then no. She’ll walk,” Julius said firmly. “I’ve handled much worse and won.”

He looked toward the precinct doors.
“I’m going in now to speak with Carolina directly. I’ll let them know I’m her counsel and invoke full access. You stay here. They won’t let you in without clearance. But I’ll be back soon with answers. And if she’s ready, we’ll get her released by morning.”
“Thank you,” Katherine breathed, her eyes glassy with emotion. “Please… just tell her she’s not alone. Tell her I’m here. I’m not leaving until she’s out.”

Julius nodded once, then turned toward the building, walking with quiet authority.
And Katherine, clutching her bag to her chest, watched him go, clinging to the only thread of hope she had left.