Arthur leans backwards slightly into the chair, his fingers unconsciously intertwined with Bethany’s the entire time. His voice, though calm and measured, carries the weight of the truth he has just lay bare while the whole world is listening.“I won’t pretend that everything was perfect me either,” he continues, his gaze shifting from Tammy to Millicent, who sits silently, her eyes narrowing slightly as she listens painfully. “There were faults on both sides, mine inclusive. I totally failed to see how my wife really felt during that time. Millicent was an actress nevertheless, she was good at hiding emotions, burying them beneath the surface. She never spoke up, and I assumed her silence meant everything was fine, I thought it was all fine when she helped blow the balloons, arrange the toys, I thought it was fine as she watched me arrange the baby’s crib… But it wasn’t.”Tammy listens intently, her eyes widening with every word, clearly taken aback by the candor of Arthur’s confessio
“Is your car parked outside by any chance?”John raises his head, surprised at the random question. “Yes, why do you ask?”“Where were you on the day of Sienna’s murder? We have both established that you knew her and were her benefactor for two years? That is touching and sweet but before we release you, where were you on the day of her murder?”I had gone to her place.“I had a meeting with a Kevin Fitzpatrick.”“Really? Do you have his phone number? This is just to confirm your alibi.” Marsh inquires, a small smile at the edge of his mouth. Only himself, for now, knows the direction he is headed.“Yes… Yes, I have his number.”Eager to get the hell out of there, John easily calls out the string of numbers to Marsh as the detective, in turn, dials the number.“Okay, I will give him a call now…” Marsh dials.The line rings once, and then cuts off.Marsh redials.The line cuts off again.“Looks like he is busy or it is a bad network issue. Since you are here anyway, we will just check
In the suffocating darkness of the room, the only sound that fills the air is Millicent’s heavy sniffling. The curtains are drawn tightly, shutting out the outside world, the light, and everything that once made her feel like a star. The room itself is bare, save for a few pieces of scattered furniture. The only things that catch any attention are the pictures plastered on the wall, a stark contrast to the dreary surroundings.Millicent sits huddled in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest as tears stream down her face. Her sobs are quiet, almost muffled, but the pain in her heart feels loud, intrusive. Her once carefully maintained composure has shattered, and now, all that’s left is this overwhelming sense of emptiness. The room feels cold, like her spirit has been frozen in time.The door creaks open, and her new manager steps in quietly, carrying a tray of food in his hands. He pauses when he sees the untouched plate from earlier, his brows furrowing with concern.He places
The two financial officers drag Kevin out of Campbell Conglomerate, his face twisted with anger and fear. His mind races as they force him into a black van parked just outside the building. He struggles, trying to pull away, but their grip on him is too strong.His cheeks are swollen red and his hands are tight in a fist.“Get in,” one of the officers barks, pushing him roughly into the back seat of the van.Kevin lands on the seat with a grunt on his backside, his hands cuffed tightly behind his back. He glares at the officers, his eyes wild with desperation. “You can’t do this! You’re making a mistake! Get me that bitch and I'll show her twenty billion dollars!” he shouts, but his words fall on deaf ears.The door slams shut, leaving Kevin trapped in the darkened interior of the van. The doors are locked loudly, the windows are heavily tinted, so he can’t see what’s going on outside and he guesses the same for those on the outside. The van starts moving, and for the first few minut
The house is covered in the silence of early in the morning, with the soft glow of daylight just beginning to filter through the room’s curtains. The regular morning sounds made in the mansion has been reduced to a hush so the sleeping couple upstairs would be able to have a peaceful sleep…They both deserve it after so many sleepless nights and worry filled days.Arthur stirs first, then slowly opening his eyes to his surroundings. His gaze naturally falls on Bethany, lying peacefully beside him, her face turned to face his. She is sound asleep, her breathing pretty steady and calm. Arthur watches her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips as her full lips are curved up slightly at the edges.She must be having a pretty good dream.Gently, he reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He takes a moment to admire her, the woman he’s come to love so deeply, the woman who stands by his side no matter what storms rage around them
Bethany pulls back from his protective and quite reassuring hug, crosses her arms, and bites her lip. “And now the media is going to come after us. They’ll tie this to Campbell Conglomerate… to me.” Her voice wavers, but she takes a deep breath, trying to maintain composure, to show them all that she can still be rational.Her life is the perfect example of no rest and the idiom ‘from frying pan, to fire’. She only just got out of the frying pan the day before only to end up with a good night’s sleep, the unknowing short trip into the fire.Arthur pulls her close once again, his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll deal with whatever comes. We have nothing to hide. They will not be able to pin anything except trashy circumstantial sayings and whatever trashy media they try to come up with, we’ll control it. Unlike with Millicent because she was an actress, this is pretty controllable. No one wants to be sued.”Martha, who has been sitting in her armchair, watching the scene unfold, finally
Bethany steps into the house, her thoughts still tangled in the events of the day.The police station they are just returning from, Kevin’s death, the ongoing investigation, it all feels heavy on her shoulders. Arthur walks beside her, his presence steady and grounding. They haven’t said much to each other since they left the station, but his hand has been holding hers the entire time, providing silent comfort. One that oddly enough, she finds herself needing.As they close the door behind them, Martha appears at the end of the hallway, her expression gentle but concerned. “Bethany,” she says softly, “can I have a moment with you?”Bethany looks at Arthur with a curious eyes, but he only gives her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead,” he says. “I’ll be upstairs, getting some things ready.”With that, Bethany follows Martha down the hallway.They pass the living room, where the sound of the television playing softly echoes in the background. Martha leads her to her room on the ground floor,
Bethany and Arthur lay side by side on the soft grass, the warmth of the sun sinking into their skin as a gentle breeze rustled the faraway trees around them.For a while, they simply enjoy the silence, the serenity of being away from all the noise and complications of the world. The tennis court they had just left was a distant memory, and the day felt lighter, easier, as they basked in the quiet moments between them.Arthur and Bethany lay side by side on the bench, basking in the cool breeze that brushes over them.The lighthearted laughter from their tennis match fades into a comfortable silence. The peace of the moment feels like a small escape from everything, but the silence, however comfortable, only makes their minds wander back to the places they did not want to go.After a short, silent while, Bethany breaks the silence, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Arthur,” she begins, her eyes fixed on the sky, “are you not worried about Daisy? With John in detention at the police stati
Time slows.Bethany’s fingers brush the handle of the driver’s side door just as the second beep-beep fades into the air. A bird chirps from the lamp post above the lot. The wheels of a nearby shopping cart squeal as someone exits the pharmacy across the road. Arthur opens his mouth to say something…And the world erupts.BOOM.It’s not just a noise., it’s a force. A living, monstrous thing that tears through air, glass, and metal like paper. The car explodes in a big explosion of fire and shrapnel, its roof splitting, hurling into the sky. The windshield vaporizes in a white hot flash and for the person standing right next to the explosion...Bethany is thrown violently backward. Not a stumble. Not a fall. She is launched into the air like a ragdoll and what goes up, always comes down.Her body hits the ground very hard. The sound is sickening, skin on pavement, ribs crunching, skull cracking and the audible sound of all of it.Then stillness.Alarms scream in every direction. The
The man walks in front of the station like he’s trying not to walk into a landmine, slow, tentative steps. He stops at the top of the stairs, takes one deep sigh, rubs his weak looking eyes and takes the few more steps into the building.He does not take big strides and no waving hands. Just quiet, precise steps through the front doors of the Precinct, wearing a weather beaten hoodie and jeans that have seen better years. His eyes are the kind that don’t blink enough, too haunted to remember how.Or at least that is what it looks like to whoever cares to give him a glance.At the front desk, Officer Laney gives him the once over. She’s halfway through sipping her third iced latte when she asks, “Can I help you sir?”The man doesn’t answer at first, first choosing to check if she is a police officer since she is in civilian clothes, then seeing her badge in her hands, he sighs audibly before responding, saying…“I need to talk to someone. Someone in charge of a particular case here.”L
Rumors begin less than three days later.Apparently, grabbing a cup of coffee with a beautiful female Major is grounds for rumors, and even people whom you don’t know who begin to study your every move. The rumors, with truths in them however, rage on the barracks.They spread like heat on dry bush. Fast, wild and pretty much unstoppable. A Major seen sneaking smiles at a Lieutenant during drills, the same Lieutenant caught slipping out of the officer's quarters too early in the morning.Chara doesn’t as much as flinch when she hears then, she’s pretty much used to the weight of judgment.Chara doesn’t pretend to care, not at all.She keeps her chin high, her stride sharp like the boss lady that she is, like no one dares say it to her face, because they really do not dare say it to her face.But Mason hears it.He hears them and unlike Chara with her own steely indifference, he is not indifferent to it.And it gets harder to ignore, mostly because it is not all about him but her.Mason
It is a new day on the barracks, the morning frills are done and so are evening ones, it’s just past the time for everyone to have dinner but someone is not headed to the cafeteria for food.The knock on the door announces his arrival to his caller.Major Chara’s office is dimly lit but bright enough fir the time of the day, considering she is in the male fields, she knows just how to be careful enough to not have too much light on, not too much to help the stalkers peek through the window at her perfectly figured body. She’s currently halfway through dressing, uniform pants already snug around her waist, boots laced to perfection, but her shirt still hanging on the back of a chair.“Come in,” Chara calls, her voice calm.She doesn’t bother rushing. She knows exactly who it is and why she has sent for him.The door opens, and then nothing.No footsteps. No greeting.Just silence from who it is that stands at the door.Private First Lieutenant Mason Campbell.She turns slightly, still
The courtroom is brightly lit, smells like polished wood and paper and different, different smells of perfumes and cologne.It's still early in the morning, the sun barely slanting through the tall and somewhat dusty windows, but the room is already full, a lot of people seem to be quite interested in the case and other than that, there are also students who have come to just witness one and some other purposeful individuals, albeit, the courtroom is filled. The silence is thick, every cough or chair scrape feeling louder than it should because every sound that is not inevitable is not allowed in the court, it should always be bone silent and they all try to keep to the rule, although the silence can feel a bit suffocating but they can’t help it.At the defense table, John Worth stands stiffly, his head cast downwards staring at his feet or at the floor, either, wearing the same annoyingly orange jumper he has worn to every hearing in the past week.His hands rest by his sides, fisted
Detective Reynolds has never hated walking down this damned hallway more than he actually does now, with what he knows his mission it, he does not look forward to the next few minutes since he’ll be walking down the same hall again.The keys jingle in his hand, cold metal biting into his palm as he squeezes it more than he should, causing himself pain. He passes the front desk, the vending machines, the bulletin board with the crooked missing persons flyer... all of it feeling a little more annoying than usual.For the first time in a very long time, he regrets his job and for once wishes that he was in a position of power to refute the corrupt order that he is about to go ahead and act out. He had spoken to Daisy Worth just some minutes ago before he decided to accept his fate and do as ordered unless he wanted to risk his job, and even if he does risk his job for the sake of his integrity, the five bastards will still get released anyway so there is basically no point dragging out t
The morning sun filters through the trees in the large, green park that overlooks the pretty lake ahead.It’s warm. Peaceful. A soft breeze rolls across the lake, lifting the petals from scattered white roses and tugging at the corner of the prettily covered altar. Everything looks like it was summoned out of thin air, a lakeside setup, simple chairs, a path of white laid across green grass, and yet it all feels perfectly right.They didn’t plan it. Not really. They did not have the time to do so anyway, because every minute now counts.Every. Single. Minute.But love doesn’t always need a plan. Sometimes, it just needs now and that’s how everything was planned overnight, some people who still haven’t slept yet are in the congregation.By the water’s edge, rows of white wooden chairs are arranged in quiet perfection. A floral arch leans over a makeshift altar, the blooms fresh, delicate, almost too pretty to touch. There are photographers present, it is a memorable one, everyone wants
The holding cell stinks terribly of sweat and urnine and not so well taken care of body discharges.Smells disgusting in there.And it is not just the stink of sweat or urine, like the average downtown drunk tank, no. This one also reeks of guilty men dressed up in expensive cologne. Designer jeans and loafers scuffed on concrete, the exact dressings that they had all been arrested in though they do stink now from not having baths for days.Five men, once golden boys in nightclubs and boardrooms, now sit on cracked terrazzo floors under extremely dim bulb lights.Trevor sits with his legs crossed, perfectly calm for someone in such a situation.The others? Not so much, they are relying on him and for someone they are leaning on, he seems a little too calm for their liking.“Trevor, man,” hisses Logan, slick back that is not so slick now, pacing the cell like a caged animal. “You said your dad would never let this happen, you said you’ll never spill our names now look at all of us, sitt
The day began with yells, cackles of laughter within a small family and small children, all laughing toothily around the large house. Scattered around were pink balloons and a particular glittery plastic tiara that didn’t quite fit on Bethany’s tiny head.She was three years old at the time, full of toothy grins and sticky fingers and loved pancakes with a lot of syrup, and today, today was her birthday.“Mommy,” she said, swinging her legs beneath the kitchen table that was considerably ten times her total weight, “I want McDonald’s burger for my birthday.”Martha, standing by the counter with a juice box in one hand and her purse in the other, gave her daughter a bemused look. “Are you sure? We can make you anything you want. Pancakes? Spaghetti? A cake shaped like a pony? Where did you even hear about that?”Bethany shook her small curls. “You got Mason one, I want my own too today. McDonald’s and the park. I wanna ride the horsies! They are cuteeee.”Beside her, Seven year old Mas