Anna’s POV:
I kept James occupied the whole time, making sure he had no chance to talk to Blake. If Blake didn’t want me to get out, I might be stuck at the station for a while. I just had to buy time, hoping Emily would show up with backup to vouch for me.
While I was deep in conversation with James, I saw Emily arrive.
She burst in, her cheeks flushed from rushing, followed by Henry and a well–dressed man in a suit and glasses I hadn’t seen before–maybe a lawyer they had found for me.
Thank God.
“Anna!” Emily rushed to my side, scanning me for injuries. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
I shook my head slightly. “No, I’m fine. Who is this gentleman?”
Emily leaned in close and whispered to me, “This is the lawyer Henry contacted for you. He’s Matthew, one of the top attorneys in Boston.”
My gaze darted between Henry and Matthew, surprise and gratitude washing over me in equal
measure. At least some people still think I’m worth standing up for.
Matthew didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He approached James, his voice low and commanding. “My client needs to be released immediately. I believe there are serious procedural issues with this
case.”
The transformation in James’s demeanor was startling. His back straightened, and his tone shifted
from the casual condescension he’d used with me to something approaching reverence.
“Mr. Coleman, what an unexpected honor. If you’d mentioned you knew Mrs. Wright, a phone call
would have sufficed. No need for you to come all this way personally.”
Matthew was truly impressive, he clearly carried enough weight to make a police commissioner
nervous.
Henry moved to stand beside me his presence calm and reassuring. “Any injuries?” he asked quietly,
his voice steady but concerned.
I shook my head, managing a small smile of gratitude.
“Well, we’ve sorted everything out,” James announced, suddenly eager to resolve the situation. “Ms. Anderson is free to go.”
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Chapter 38
As the paperwork was being finalized, I glanced at Matthew, who was thoroughly reviewing the transcript of my interview with the police, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every word and punctuation
mark.
“We’ll conduct our own investigation into this incident, Matthew informed James, each word carrying a subtle warning. “I’ll contact you directly if anything new comes to light.”
The fine mist of Boston’s evening rain greeted us as James escorted us to the station entrance. I took a deep breath of the damp air, relieved to be free of the stuffy interrogation room.
My relief evaporated instantly.
Blake’s black Bentley idled at the curb, its engine purring softly. He leaned against it, a cigarette
between his fingers, raindrops glistening on his dark suit. His eyes found mine immediately, sharp and penetrating.
The tension in the air pulled tight, like a violin string about to snap.
“What an asshole,” Emily muttered under her breath, loud enough for Blake to hear.
“He’s been out here the whole time,” she whispered to me. “He never planned to get you out!
Probably hoped you’d stay locked up longer!”
How ironic.
Henry gently placed his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, we’ll take you home,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
“Don’t even look at him,” Emily urged, tugging at my arm. “Haven’t you been hurt enough? Let’s go!”
Blake flicked his cigarette away and closed the distance between us in a few long strides.
“Are you planning to kidnap my wife?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Emily scoffed. “Do you really consider her your wife?”
Blake’s gaze turned glacial, noting Henry’s hand on my shoulder, Emily’s grip on my arm, Matthew’s
protective stance.
“One touching her shoulder, one grabbing her arm, one blocking her path,” he said coldly. “I have reason to believe you’re trying to force her away. If you don’t let go, I’ll have to take action.”
His eyes locked with Matthew’s, the air between them práctically solidifying. “That would be self- defense, wouldn’t it, counselor? The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.
Matthew didn’t back down an inch. “Your understanding of ‘self–defense‘ seems quite distant from
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Chapter 38
legal reality, Mr. Wright. Perhaps I should explain the concepts of ‘harassment‘ and ‘unlawful
detention“?”
“What more do you want from me, Blake?” I asked, exhaustion and determination mingling in my
voice.
Just days ago, we shared those private moments. Now he looks at me like I’m a traitor.
I gently pushed past my companions, facing Blake directly.
Blake said something, but his words were lost in the sound of falling rain. He extended his hand toward me, firm and unyielding like a vise.
In another universe, this might be romantic–him reaching out, silently saying “come home with me.” But here, now, it only makes me feel suffocated.
I searched his eyes for any trace of love but found only possession and control.
“Go home to what?” Emily’s blunt voice cut through the rain. “Blake, just so you know, Anna moved out. You don’t have a home together anymore!”
Blake’s expression froze. At the word “moved out,” Blake’s fingers ti
Anna’s POV:
I kept James occupied the whole time, making sure he had no chance to talk to Blake. If Blake didn’t want me to get out, I might be stuck at the station for a while. I just had to buy time, hoping Emily would show up with backup to vouch for me.
While I was deep in conversation with James, I saw Emily arrive.
She burst in, her cheeks flushed from rushing, followed by Henry and a well–dressed man in a suit and glasses I hadn’t seen before–maybe a lawyer they had found for me.
Thank God.
“Anna!” Emily rushed to my side, scanning me for injuries. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
I shook my head slightly. “No, I’m fine. Who is this gentleman?”
Emily leaned in close and whispered to me, “This is the lawyer Henry contacted for you. He’s Matthew, one of the top attorneys in Boston.”
My gaze darted between Henry and Matthew, surprise and gratitude washing over me in equal
measure. At least some people still think I’m worth standing up for.
Matthew didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He approached James, his voice low and commanding. “My client needs to be released immediately. I believe there are serious procedural issues with this
case.”
The transformation in James’s demeanor was startling. His back straightened, and his tone shifted
from the casual condescension he’d used with me to something approaching reverence.
“Mr. Coleman, what an unexpected honor. If you’d mentioned you knew Mrs. Wright, a phone call
would have sufficed. No need for you to come all this way personally.”
Matthew was truly impressive, he clearly carried enough weight to make a police commissioner
nervous.
Henry moved to stand beside me his presence calm and reassuring. “Any injuries?” he asked quietly,
his voice steady but concerned.
I shook my head, managing a small smile of gratitude.
“Well, we’ve sorted everything out,” James announced, suddenly eager to resolve the situation. “Ms. Anderson is free to go.”
1/3
Chapter 38
As the paperwork was being finalized, I glanced at Matthew, who was thoroughly reviewing the transcript of my interview with the police, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every word and punctuation
mark.
“We’ll conduct our own investigation into this incident, Matthew informed James, each word carrying a subtle warning. “I’ll contact you directly if anything new comes to light.”
The fine mist of Boston’s evening rain greeted us as James escorted us to the station entrance. I took a deep breath of the damp air, relieved to be free of the stuffy interrogation room.
My relief evaporated instantly.
Blake’s black Bentley idled at the curb, its engine purring softly. He leaned against it, a cigarette
between his fingers, raindrops glistening on his dark suit. His eyes found mine immediately, sharp and penetrating.
The tension in the air pulled tight, like a violin string about to snap.
“What an asshole,” Emily muttered under her breath, loud enough for Blake to hear.
“He’s been out here the whole time,” she whispered to me. “He never planned to get you out!
Probably hoped you’d stay locked up longer!”
How ironic.
Henry gently placed his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, we’ll take you home,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
“Don’t even look at him,” Emily urged, tugging at my arm. “Haven’t you been hurt enough? Let’s go!”
Blake flicked his cigarette away and closed the distance between us in a few long strides.
“Are you planning to kidnap my wife?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Emily scoffed. “Do you really consider her your wife?”
Blake’s gaze turned glacial, noting Henry’s hand on my shoulder, Emily’s grip on my arm, Matthew’s
protective stance.
“One touching her shoulder, one grabbing her arm, one blocking her path,” he said coldly. “I have reason to believe you’re trying to force her away. If you don’t let go, I’ll have to take action.”
His eyes locked with Matthew’s, the air between them práctically solidifying. “That would be self- defense, wouldn’t it, counselor? The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.
Matthew didn’t back down an inch. “Your understanding of ‘self–defense‘ seems quite distant from
2/3
Chapter 38
legal reality, Mr. Wright. Perhaps I should explain the concepts of ‘harassment‘ and ‘unlawful
detention“?”
“What more do you want from me, Blake?” I asked, exhaustion and determination mingling in my
voice.
Just days ago, we shared those private moments. Now he looks at me like I’m a traitor.
I gently pushed past my companions, facing Blake directly.
Blake said something, but his words were lost in the sound of falling rain. He extended his hand toward me, firm and unyielding like a vise.
In another universe, this might be romantic–him reaching out, silently saying “come home with me.” But here, now, it only makes me feel suffocated.
I searched his eyes for any trace of love but found only possession and control.
“Go home to what?” Emily’s blunt voice cut through the rain. “Blake, just so you know, Anna moved out. You don’t have a home together anymore!”
Blake’s expression froze. At the word “moved out,” Blake’s fingers tightened around the cigarette he’d lit, his knuckles whitening. He kicked the butt viciously into a nearby puddle, water splashing in all directions like his anger seeking an outlet.
I felt a strange kinship with that discarded cigarette. Once treasured, ultimately tossed aside, muddied and forgotten.
The rain fell harder now, as if trying to wash away this unresolvable confrontation.
“Don’t run away, Anna,” Blake’s voice cut through the deluge, raspy and low, “We need to talk.”
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htened around the cigarette he’d lit, his knuckles whitening. He kicked the butt viciously into a nearby puddle, water splashing in all directions like his anger seeking an outlet.
I felt a strange kinship with that discarded cigarette. Once treasured, ultimately tossed aside, muddied and forgotten.
The rain fell harder now, as if trying to wash away this unresolvable confrontation.
“Don’t run away, Anna,” Blake’s voice cut through the deluge, raspy and low, “We need to talk.”
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