Chapter 160
Chapter 160
The officer led her down a narrow hallway lined with buzzing fluorescent lights, each one flickering faintly like a dying firefly. The sound of her heartbeat seemed louder than her footsteps, thudding in her ears, filling up the tight space inside her chest.
They brought her into a small interview room—windowless, painted a depressing shade of off-white. A metal table bolted to the floor. Two chairs. A camera in the corner with a blinking red light.
The officer closed the door behind them.
Izzy swallowed, her throat bone-dry.
“Have a seat,” the woman said, not unkindly. Her badge read OFFICER HALE. Her face was tired in a way that suggested she’d seen every version of human suffering and had run out of room to store any more of it.
Izzy sat. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.
Officer Hale pulled out a file and opened it. “Isabella Clarke,” she said. “You’re the woman reported missing from the Dane estate?”
Izzy’s stomach twisted.
“Reported,” she repeated carefully. “Not missing.”
The officer raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what the statement says.”
Izzy stiffened.
“His statement?” she asked quietly. “Dick Dane’s?”
“Mr. Dane,” Hale corrected. “Yes.”
Izzy’s hands curled into fists in her lap. “He lied.”
“That’s a strong accusation.” Hale tapped her pen on the folder. “He told the state police you fled the estate during a mental health episode. That he’s concerned for your safety. That you’re—” She glanced down at the page. “—‘unstable due to pregnancy-related emotional distress.’”
Izzy felt the sting immediately—humiliation, rage, fear, all braided tight.
“And you’re just… taking his word for it?” she asked quietly.
The officer didn’t answer at first.
She simply studied Izzy—longer than before. More carefully.
“You do look pale,” Hale said eventually, softer. “Shaken. Exhausted.”
Izzy met her gaze. “Because I’ve been running for my life.”
The officer stopped writing.
“Explain.”
So Izzy did.
Not all of it—she couldn’t. Not with the camera watching, not with the walls closing in. But she gave enough: the manipulation, the pressure, the control, the secrets. She told her about Maine, about the locked doors, the surveillance, the pregnancy, the proposal she never wanted.
She didn’t mention Beck. She didn’t mention the gunshots. She didn’t dare mention Clara.
Just Dick.
Just the truth she could prove.
Officer Hale listened without interrupting, only nodding once or twice. When Izzy finished, her breath felt shredded, like she’d been speaking through barbed wire.
The officer set her pen down. “Do you have evidence of what you’re describing?”
Izzy’s stomach dropped.
“I… no,” she whispered. “Everything’s at the estate.”
“And your ID?” Hale asked. “Bank cards? Phone?”
“Dick took them.”
The officer leaned back slowly, exhaling. “Ms. Clarke… from the outside, this looks very different from the way you’re describing it.”
Izzy’s heart sank.
Of course it did.
A billionaire with a manicured reputation.
A missing pregnant fiancée.
A frantic lover with no legal standing.
A runaway woman with no documents.
No money.
No proof.
Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. “Please,” she whispered. “Please believe me.”
A long, painful silence.
Hale tapped her fingers against the table. Thinking. Measuring. Weighing.
Then—
A shrill ringing cut through the room.
Officer Hale stiffened. She pulled a radio from her belt.
“Hale.”
A pause.
“Yes. Put him through.”
Another beat.
She glanced at Izzy. Something unreadable flickered across her face.
“Understood.”
She set the radio down.
Izzy felt the blood drain from her face. “Who was that?”
“The chief,” Hale said. “He’s… taking a call from Mr. Dane.”
Izzy’s world tilted.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no—please—”
“Ms. Clarke,” Hale said firmly, “I need you to stay calm.”
“He’s going to tell you I’m unstable,” Izzy said, voice shaking. “He’s going to tell you Beck kidnapped me. He’s going to say anything he has to. That’s what he does. He controls everything.”
The officer opened her mouth to respond—
But a loud crash echoed from down the hallway.
Then shouting.
Men shouting.
Izzy’s breath hitched. “Beck—”
Officer Hale stood abruptly. “Stay here.”
She moved quickly to the door.
Another crash. A barked order. Something metallic slamming. Izzy’s pulse skyrocketed.
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t hurt him.”
Hale didn’t answer.
The door closed behind her.
Izzy stood so fast her chair toppled.
She pressed her ear to the door.
More noise. Raised voices. A scuffle. Someone calling for backup. Izzy’s stomach twisted so violently she thought she might be sick.
Then—
Her name.
Faint. Hoarse. Desperate.
“Izzy!”
Beck.
Her hand slapped against the door. “Beck!”
A deeper voice roared something she couldn’t make out. Maybe an order. Maybe a threat. Maybe the chief trying to control the situation. Her heartbeat drowned out everything else.
“Izzy!”
Another shout. Closer.
Footsteps.
A struggle.
Something thudded against the wall near her room.
Izzy covered her mouth to muffle a sob.
Then—
Silence.
A long, terrifying silence.
She pressed her forehead to the cold door, shaking. “Beck… please… please be okay…”
Footsteps approached.
Slow. Heavy.
Izzy stepped back.
The doorknob twisted.
Her breath stopped—
And Officer Hale stepped inside. Alone.
Her face looked different now—strained, conflicted.
“Ms. Clarke,” she said quietly. “You need to sit down.”
“What happened?” Izzy demanded. “Where is he? Is Beck okay?”
“He’s not injured,” Hale said quickly.
Izzy sagged against the table, knees almost buckling.
“But,” Hale continued, “he is being held separately now.”
Izzy’s relief dissolved instantly. “Why? What happened?”
Hale hesitated.
“The call from Mr. Dane… inflamed things.”
A loaded phrase. Too vague. Too diplomatic.
Izzy felt her stomach drop. “What does that mean?”
“It means Mr. Dane expressed… concern,” Hale said carefully. “He says he believes Mr. Shaw is influencing your decisions. Possibly endangering you.”
Izzy’s voice sharpened. “He’s lying.”
“I know,” Hale said softly.
Izzy froze.
The officer’s eyes were tired. Human. More open than before.
“I’ve seen this before,” Hale said quietly. “Women running from men who insist they’re being ‘rescued.’ Men who wrap control in concern. Money in manipulation.” She crossed her arms. “The department… some officers will believe his story. They’re trained to trust resources and reputation.”
“But you don’t,” Izzy whispered.
“I don’t,” Hale murmured. “But that won’t be enough to protect you.”
Izzy swallowed, breath shaky. “What do I do?”
“You need an advocate,” Hale said. “A lawyer. A safe house. Something solid. Something official. Because Mr. Dane is pushing to have you declared mentally unwell and returned to his custody.”
Izzy’s knees went weak.
“He can’t—”
“He can,” Hale said bluntly. “And he will try.”
Izzy pressed her shaking hands over her stomach.
The baby fluttered—not physically, but as a thought. A fear. A fragile, tiny life caught in the crossfire.
“I need Beck,” she whispered.
Officer Hale studied her. “Then you need to stay strong during questioning. You need to stay consistent. And you need to prepare yourself… because Mr. Dane’s people are already outside.”
Izzy’s blood turned to ice.
Outside.
Here.
Now.
“He’s coming,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Hale said. “And you need to decide how you want to face him.”
Izzy closed her eyes.
Her entire life narrowed down to a single collapsing moment.
Then she inhaled, slow, shaking, but real.
“I won’t go with him,” she said. “Not alive.”
And Officer Hale—tough, tired Officer Hale—nodded once.
“Then let’s make sure you don’t.”