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Good Cop, Bad Cop... SD Cards.
Last Updated:
2025-04-08 22:57:04
Samantha K. WhyteThis is a pretty funny chapter... Looks like we'll find who 'Reeds Whitby' is pretty soon.
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After they drive away from the police station, the long ride to Daisy’s house is a bit quiet, unlike the previous night. Not heavy at all like the last time, but quiet enough to let the silence settle between them without awkwardness.Its just sad in there.A woman lost her husband to justice, rightfully, a daughter said bye to her father and family has to watch it all happen while he pays his respects, sort of.And now the date of the hearing is just a few days away… Must be hard.Daisy steps out of the vehicle with Quinn by her side just as Arthur pulls into the driveway. They both help one another when they get off from the car, and Bethany is the first to step out from the front. Quinn breaks into a small whimper and manages a small, hurtful smile towards Bethany.Not because Bethany is the one who hurt her but because Beth has been there all along and now there is no reason to hide emotions from her anymore.“I’m really glad you came with us,” Daisy says softly, walking up beside
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POVGood riddance to bad trash.The glass in front of me is already half empty, but I hold it like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the planet. My fingers tremble around the rim, knuckles pale and tight. Whiskey burns my throat as I knock the rest of it back in one go, but I barely flinch.Who flinches at a burn of alcohol after seeing a dead body’s flinching in death? Its nothing compared to one another, simply fleeting and yet stays with you… When you see the eyes of a dead person closing for the last time.Or the last blink? The last sigh? The last finger twitch? Exhilarating to see and alcohol seems to be the closes thing to feeling that lovely twinge in your back again.The bartender’s eyes flick toward me from the end of the counter.He's used to me now. I’ve been coming here every other night, ordering the same thing, pretty expensive whiskey, no ice, no chaser, the perfect feeling it gives me gives me no other choice but to drink it raw.I don’t need comfort.I need focus an
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Contented sigh.The morning sun peeks softly through the curtains, its light spilling gently over the cream sheets of the master bedroom where our couple have been staying and where the stay would soon come to an end since it's all over anyway. Arthur stirs first, slipping out of bed quietly so as not to wake Bethany. A few minutes later, he returns with two steaming mugs in hand. He knows what his wife needs anyway, and he'll give it to her, knowing what time she wakes up on her and even if it's not near, the coffee will damn near wake her up with it's 'rejuvenating' scent as she calls it.Bethany blinks awake just in time to see him walk in, dressed in his robe and soft slippers on his leg. He hands her one of the mugs and sits on the edge of the bed, watching her with amusement.She accepts it gratefully, taking a sip. “Mmm. You make a mean cup of coffee,” she says sleepily, sitting up straighter as the warmth spreads through her hands, waking her fully.Arthur raises a brow. “Goo
Last Updated : 2025-04-10Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle FLASHBACK A: INTENTION, MOTIVE.
Many weeks before...Charles stands on the front steps of the hospital, the early afternoon sun beaming down on him like a spotlight exposing every ugly thought in his mind, shining brightly on every single evil thing he has ever done and said... The conversation with Arthur that he had just some minutes earlier before Arthur had gone up to possibly smack John had ensued, plays on loop in his headaccusations, disgust, disappointment. And the worst part? Arthur did have a point no matter how much he has tried to deny it and say it's a lie.No matter how much he had tried to say he isn't like his father... Deep down, he knew he was like him.And control of himself was slipping right through his fingers.He drags a hand through his hair, chest heaving as he pulls out his phone. His fingers hover for a second before he finally dials the number.The same number he had dialed just before and Arthur had overheard the whole conversation.Sienna picks up on the second ring, her voice light a
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The bottle is empty. Charles drops it onto the passenger seat, the final drop of tequila long gone down his throat. His vision swims a little, but his mind is sharp, sharper than it’s been in days.Rage does that.It slices through fog, even the kind caused by alcohol.Simpler to call it a drunken sober state.He adjusts the black cap over his head and slides the dark cloth mask up over his face. It’s not paranoia. It’s protection. He isn’t supposed to be seen. Not today.Not when he’s decided how this ends.The Falcon Rental lot is dim, even in daylight. He parks his actual car on the next street over, then walks across the sidewalk like any other customer. The ID he hands over is fake, the accent he puts on convincing enough. “Reeds Whitby,” he says with a light chuckle. “Just in town for a few days. Business and... pleasure.”The clerk barely looks at him. All that matters is the money.And he gives the guy a lot of it.Keys change hands.Minutes later, Charles is behind the wheel
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Charles doesn’t remember when the rage began, only that it grew over time, like a parasite feeding off everything he had left of humanity.He stares blankly at the GPS mounted in the Falcon Rental’s Audi R8, sleek, black, expensive, and utterly soulless. Just like him tonight. The false name he gave at the rental office, Reeds Whitby, echoes in his mind as he swerves through the streets.He doesn’t want to think too hard. The bottle of tequila he downed earlier made sure of that. He still has more of it in the deep pocket just if he needs some more liquid courage to protect his family.He punches a code into an app he’d installed on his family’s phones during the Quinn scare, a parental tracking tool he’d masked as a ‘security protocol.’ Now it pulses on the screen, blinking with one word.John.His father’s signal is floating dangerously close to the outskirts of the state. There is no other place she could be staying that is not where the blue dot is currently tapping.“She really h
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"There is absolutely nothing you this bitch can do appropriately!" Quinn yells as she flings the steaming mug of coffee away from her.The hot liquid spills sideways and scalds Bethany who jumps back but it's a little too late as the bulk of it had landed on the back of her hand. She immediately turns to get it under some cold water but she's immediately stopped by Quinn's incredulous gasp."You want to walk out on me?" She half yells shrilly so as to attract attention from the rest of the family. "Just because I politely told you that the coffee is too bitter, you want to walk out on me?" Her voice takes on a slight faltering to show that it's filled with emotions.Fake emotions.Bethany immediately shakes her head. "Of course not, the hot coffee spilled on me and I'm going to wash it off..."There's a clatter of footsteps behind her and Bethany turns around to see Daisy and John Worth, her in-laws, as they come downstairs to see what all the commotion is all about."Mum... Dad..." Q
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Morning arrives fast...That is how it happens on days you expect so much.The bright morning skies are a soft blue and the air, surprisingly cool for an April morning. The Campbell residence is unusually quiet, except for the muffled sound of footsteps and the occasional whirr of bag wheels being drawn.Arthur stands by the foot of the stairs, dressed casually in a light linen shirt and sleek black pants, overseeing the last of the suitcases being carried out. The driver, uniformed and slightly drawn in the face, loads their luggage into the trunk of the sleek black SUV parked outside.Bethany emerges from the top of the stairs in a matching light outfit, her white blouse tucked into wide legged beige pants, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head and a genuine smile lighting up her face as soon as she sights Arthur waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.Martha and Mason wait for them in the living room, both sipping coffee, the morning sun pouring in behind them.“Someone’s glo
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Charles doesn’t remember when the rage began, only that it grew over time, like a parasite feeding off everything he had left of humanity.He stares blankly at the GPS mounted in the Falcon Rental’s Audi R8, sleek, black, expensive, and utterly soulless. Just like him tonight. The false name he gave at the rental office, Reeds Whitby, echoes in his mind as he swerves through the streets.He doesn’t want to think too hard. The bottle of tequila he downed earlier made sure of that. He still has more of it in the deep pocket just if he needs some more liquid courage to protect his family.He punches a code into an app he’d installed on his family’s phones during the Quinn scare, a parental tracking tool he’d masked as a ‘security protocol.’ Now it pulses on the screen, blinking with one word.John.His father’s signal is floating dangerously close to the outskirts of the state. There is no other place she could be staying that is not where the blue dot is currently tapping.“She really h
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The bottle is empty. Charles drops it onto the passenger seat, the final drop of tequila long gone down his throat. His vision swims a little, but his mind is sharp, sharper than it’s been in days.Rage does that.It slices through fog, even the kind caused by alcohol.Simpler to call it a drunken sober state.He adjusts the black cap over his head and slides the dark cloth mask up over his face. It’s not paranoia. It’s protection. He isn’t supposed to be seen. Not today.Not when he’s decided how this ends.The Falcon Rental lot is dim, even in daylight. He parks his actual car on the next street over, then walks across the sidewalk like any other customer. The ID he hands over is fake, the accent he puts on convincing enough. “Reeds Whitby,” he says with a light chuckle. “Just in town for a few days. Business and... pleasure.”The clerk barely looks at him. All that matters is the money.And he gives the guy a lot of it.Keys change hands.Minutes later, Charles is behind the wheel
Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle FLASHBACK A: INTENTION, MOTIVE.
Many weeks before...Charles stands on the front steps of the hospital, the early afternoon sun beaming down on him like a spotlight exposing every ugly thought in his mind, shining brightly on every single evil thing he has ever done and said... The conversation with Arthur that he had just some minutes earlier before Arthur had gone up to possibly smack John had ensued, plays on loop in his headaccusations, disgust, disappointment. And the worst part? Arthur did have a point no matter how much he has tried to deny it and say it's a lie.No matter how much he had tried to say he isn't like his father... Deep down, he knew he was like him.And control of himself was slipping right through his fingers.He drags a hand through his hair, chest heaving as he pulls out his phone. His fingers hover for a second before he finally dials the number.The same number he had dialed just before and Arthur had overheard the whole conversation.Sienna picks up on the second ring, her voice light a
Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle The Killer.
Contented sigh.The morning sun peeks softly through the curtains, its light spilling gently over the cream sheets of the master bedroom where our couple have been staying and where the stay would soon come to an end since it's all over anyway. Arthur stirs first, slipping out of bed quietly so as not to wake Bethany. A few minutes later, he returns with two steaming mugs in hand. He knows what his wife needs anyway, and he'll give it to her, knowing what time she wakes up on her and even if it's not near, the coffee will damn near wake her up with it's 'rejuvenating' scent as she calls it.Bethany blinks awake just in time to see him walk in, dressed in his robe and soft slippers on his leg. He hands her one of the mugs and sits on the edge of the bed, watching her with amusement.She accepts it gratefully, taking a sip. “Mmm. You make a mean cup of coffee,” she says sleepily, sitting up straighter as the warmth spreads through her hands, waking her fully.Arthur raises a brow. “Goo
Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle Dreamy.
POVGood riddance to bad trash.The glass in front of me is already half empty, but I hold it like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the planet. My fingers tremble around the rim, knuckles pale and tight. Whiskey burns my throat as I knock the rest of it back in one go, but I barely flinch.Who flinches at a burn of alcohol after seeing a dead body’s flinching in death? Its nothing compared to one another, simply fleeting and yet stays with you… When you see the eyes of a dead person closing for the last time.Or the last blink? The last sigh? The last finger twitch? Exhilarating to see and alcohol seems to be the closes thing to feeling that lovely twinge in your back again.The bartender’s eyes flick toward me from the end of the counter.He's used to me now. I’ve been coming here every other night, ordering the same thing, pretty expensive whiskey, no ice, no chaser, the perfect feeling it gives me gives me no other choice but to drink it raw.I don’t need comfort.I need focus an
Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle Actions... Much louder than words.
After they drive away from the police station, the long ride to Daisy’s house is a bit quiet, unlike the previous night. Not heavy at all like the last time, but quiet enough to let the silence settle between them without awkwardness.Its just sad in there.A woman lost her husband to justice, rightfully, a daughter said bye to her father and family has to watch it all happen while he pays his respects, sort of.And now the date of the hearing is just a few days away… Must be hard.Daisy steps out of the vehicle with Quinn by her side just as Arthur pulls into the driveway. They both help one another when they get off from the car, and Bethany is the first to step out from the front. Quinn breaks into a small whimper and manages a small, hurtful smile towards Bethany.Not because Bethany is the one who hurt her but because Beth has been there all along and now there is no reason to hide emotions from her anymore.“I’m really glad you came with us,” Daisy says softly, walking up beside
Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle Good Cop, Bad Cop... SD Cards.
The silence in the rental office’s reception tightens like a noose on a criminal’s neck.Travis looks like the criminal while Marsh seems like the executioner.Marsh paces slowly in front of the reception desk, fists clenched at his sides, jaw clenching and unclenching with held back fury. Travis, the kid behind the counter, glances between him and Halloway like he's deciding which cop looks slightly less ready to blow, and maybe when to dash back to avoid a swinging fist.Halloway, standing just off to Marsh’s right, clears his throat and steps in. “Is there any other way we can identify the person who rented that car?” His tone is calm but firm, the kind that invites cooperation without threat. It’s a good cop move, and one Marsh doesn’t have the patience for today.The classic good cop, bad cop.Travis blinks at him, then nods. “I… uh, I can call my manager. He’ll know more about it sir.”“Good,” Halloway says, stepping back, folding his arms. He throws Marsh a sidelong glance that
Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle Crack in the Body... Wall.
Mason shrugs off his lab coat with a sigh, the fatigue of the last surgery still clinging to his shoulders. He tosses the coat over the back of a chair and loosens the top button of his scrub shirt before sinking into his desk chair. An open file rests on the desk, the patient's file for the next surgery in two hours. He flips it open and scans the notes, but his mind isn't fully in it yet. He is really exhausted, he has had three consecutive surgeries today and this file belongs to the last before he calls it a day.Sighing, he opens the file and begins to read and take note of surgical procedures.The door opens without a knock.Chara steps in like she owns the place, dressed in her black-on-black security uniform that hugs her frame a little too well for Mason to ignore. Boots, cargo pants, tight-fit tee, the faintest glint of her belt buckle catching the light. She raises an eyebrow, arms folded, lips pursed like she knows exactly the kind of distraction she is.Like the kind of
