Chapter 2: Under arrest

"You are under arrest for a case of qualified theft," the police officer said as he pulled my hands behind my back.

As the cold metal of the handcuffs clicked shut around my wrists, I felt as though the entire world was crashing down around me. My heart raced, and my mind spun in disbelief. The officers’ voices were muffled, drowned out by the roaring in my ears as I struggled to comprehend what was happening.

“What? Qualified theft? This is a mistake!” I protested, panic lacing my words. I turned to Gideon, desperately searching for some sign of support, some indication that this was all a horrible misunderstanding.

But Gideon’s expression remained impassive, almost bored. Alexa stood beside him, her arms crossed and a smirk still tugging at the corners of her lips. She was enjoying this—relishing every second of my downfall.

“This is absurd!” I shouted, trying to pull away from the officers, but their grip was firm. “I haven’t stolen anything! This is all wrong!”

One of the officers, a tall man with a stern expression, held up the warrant in front of me.

“Once again, Mrs. Grayson, you’re under arrest for qualified theft by stealing money on Grayson Peak Global Corporation. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

“Grayson Peak? I haven’t done anything! What is it all about, Gideon?!” I asked, my voice breaking as tears welled up in my eyes.

“You heard it, Amy” Gideon said coldly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I swear I’m innocent!”

Gideon stepped forward then, his cold eyes meeting mine. “You’ve always been so naive, Amy,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

His words cut through me like a knife. This man—my husband, the person I had trusted with everything—was standing there, watching as I was being arrested, and he didn’t care. I started doubting that he was part of this, realizing with horror that he had orchestrated it. How could I steal from his company? What in the world is going on?

 “What did you do?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Gideon, what did you do?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he just watched as the officers began to lead me away, his expression completely devoid of any emotion.

“Please, Gideon!” I cried out, struggling against the officers once more. “Don’t let them do this! You know I didn’t do anything wrong!”

But he remained silent, his eyes cold and unfeeling. Alexa, standing beside him, laughed softly, the sound sending chills down my spine.

As the officers guided me out of the house, I felt a deep sense of betrayal settling in my chest. The man I had loved, the man I had built my life with, had not only betrayed me but had gone so far as to destroy me completely. And Alexa—my stepsister, who I had trusted—had been in on it the entire time.

Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the driveway. The officers escorted me to their car, their movements methodical and efficient. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but all I could feel was a profound sense of loss.

As they pushed me into the back seat of the police car, I looked back at the house—my home. But it wasn’t my home anymore. It was a prison, filled with lies and betrayal. I had been living in a fantasy, and now the harsh reality was crashing down around me.

The door slammed shut, sealing me inside the car, and I felt a wave of despair wash over me.

The ride to the police station was a blur. I stared out the window, my mind numb, as the city passed by in a haze. I tried to piece together what had happened.

At the station, the officers processed me quickly, taking my fingerprints and mugshot before leading me to a small, dimly lit holding cell. The clang of the cell door closing behind me echoed in the small space, and I collapsed onto the cold, hard bench, burying my face in my hands.

How could this be happening? How had I ended up here, accused of a crime I hadn’t committed, betrayed by the people I had loved and trusted?

Tears streamed down my face as the weight of it all pressed down on me. I had been betrayed in the worst possible way, and now I was alone, facing a future that had been ripped away from me. The perfect life I had thought I had built was gone, replaced by a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Time passed in a blur. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. I couldn’t tell how long I had been sitting there, lost in my thoughts and grief. The cold, hard bench beneath me felt like a cruel reflection of the cold, hard reality I was now facing.

A few hours later, the sound of keys jingling outside the cell door pulled me out of my daze. One of the officers appeared, unlocking the door with a click. “Mrs. Grayson, you have visitors,” he said, his tone neutral but not unkind.

I wiped at my tear-streaked face, trying to compose myself as I stood up. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and hope swirling within me. Maybe it was a lawyer, someone who could help me out of this nightmare. Or maybe—just maybe—it was someone who believed in my innocence.

But when I stepped out into the dimly lit corridor and saw who was waiting for me, my heart sank even further. It was my parents.

My mother’s face was lined with worry, but there was no warmth in her eyes as she looked at me. My father stood beside her, his expression stony and unforgiving. Instead of the comfort I had been hoping for, their presence only made me feel more isolated.

“Mom, Dad,” I began, my voice trembling. “You have to believe me. I didn’t do anything. I’m innocent.”

My mother’s lips thinned into a disapproving line. “How could you get yourself into this mess, Amy?” she asked, her voice sharp and cold. “This is beyond disappointing.”

I flinched at her words, the sting of her disapproval cutting deeper than I expected. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how this happened, but I swear I didn’t steal anything.”

My father shook his head, his expression hardening even further. “We raised you better than this, Amy,” he said, his voice filled with a stern, almost dismissive finality. “We never thought you’d end up in a situation like this.”

“I didn’t do it!” I insisted, feeling a mix of desperation and despair clawing at me. “Please, you have to believe me!”

But instead of listening, my mother turned her gaze toward Alexa, who had been standing silently by the door. “Alexa, did you see anything? Do you know what happened?”