CH.11

"Remain calm! This is the police!" The bellow echoed through the hall, just as the double doors at the rear of the room exploded open with a force that caused several attendees to recoil.

Serena's heart skipped a beat.

The room morphed into a whirlpool of navy blue uniforms pouring in, stark against the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos.

Serena’s vision narrowed on one figure walking amongst them—Alex, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't decipher from this distance.

"Serena?" A hushed voice nearby questioned, but it was swallowed by the rising cacophony of confusion enveloping her.

"Is this part of some performance art?" A woman's voice quivered with nervous amusement but it quickly smothered as reality set in.

"Alex," Serena mouthed soundlessly, her grip on the trophy slackening. Fear wove its icy tendrils around her heart and her breath felt as though it was being trapped within a cage of ribs constricted with dread.

What could Alex be doing here? And why was he surrounded by officers?

Her thoughts began to spin out of control. She felt desperate for an answer that could make sense of this chaos unfolding before her eyes.

"Beg your pardon! Make way!" An officer muscled his way forward, his face set in stern lines. His hand hovered near his holstered weapon in a silent symbol of authority.

A sense of foreboding washed over Serena. The noise around her seemed to dip as though underwater; every sound muffled except for the relentless thudding in her chest.

"Serena Bolting?" The leading officer halted before her as his gaze bore into hers. "You need to come with us."

"To go with you?" Her laugh rang out hollow and incredulous amidst the commotion."But…I've just won my award…I don't understand."

"This matter is grave, ma'am. Please step down." He gestured towards the side of the stage and signaled his partner to aid her descent.

"On what charges?" Her voice wavered, betraying a torrent of emotions threatening to shatter her composure.

"We'll discuss this privately, Miss Bolting." His tone was firm and allowing no room for argument. However, his expression softened slightly—a reluctant acknowledgment of the spectacle they were creating.

"Privately?" She echoed numbly. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not after everything she'd strived for.

Since leaving the hospital, her mind had been unsettled. A sense of foreboding lingered about this evening, centered on the fear of last night's events being exposed. However, the scene unfolding before her seemed disconnected from that. The presence of the police indicated a different situation altogether.

Panic fluttered like a trapped bird within her.

"Can someone please explain what's going on here?" The plea slipped from her lips; a desperate call for anyone who could shed some light on this bewildering situation.

"Serena, you need to cooperate," Alex's strained voice finally pierced through the din. He was close enough now for her to see an unsettling indifference etched into his features.

"Alex?" Her query was a lifeline thrown into the tumultuous sea of confusion. She sought solace in his familiar face amidst the madness that had upended her moment of glory.

"It's best if we talk away from these prying eyes," he insisted with an icy detachment and extended a hand but halted before making contact.

Serena invuluntiarily let go of the award. It clattered onto the podium and forgotten as she took a shaky step forward, ignoring the faces blurred by shock and whispering mouths.

Her gaze locked with Mia’s whose smirk had morphed into an expression of morbid fascination.

"Miss Bolting, you need to come with us now," the officer repeated firmly, urging her offstage with a gentle but insistent hand.

The murmur of the crowd swelled like a tide against the shores of Serena's consciousness. Each whisper and gasp was like another wave eroding her composure.

She felt as though she were standing in an echo chamber where the walls were papered with her name, yet the sound that reached her was distant and hollowed out by disbelief.

"Hold it!" a sudden authorative bark sliced through the cacophony.

The commanding tone, deep and resonant like the tolling of a cathedral bell, cleaved through the chaotic noise with an undeniable force, causing even the most raucous sounds to quiver and fade in its wake.

That voice. It ignited hope within Serena and she quickly veered around to see the person. How come she hadn’t noticed he was here until now? Of course, he would give anything to be here for her on this joyous event.

Her father walked gracefully toward them. His posture was straight as a mast in turbulent seas and brow furrowed with the lines of a man who had weathered countless storms. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice the kind that had once commanded boardrooms before it had retired to quieter pursuits.

Men in black suits instantly swarmed the hall and stood as a shield between Serena, her dad, and the cops.

The police officer turned slightly, his stance rigid, his mouth a tight line beneath stern eyes.

He seemed to weigh his words before speaking, perhaps considering the gravity they would carry across the hushed hall. "Good evening, Mr. President! Sir, we need to speak with your daughter." His voice was gruff, and yet not unkind—a professional attempting to maintain decorum in a situation quickly slipping from his grasp.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea with collective intakes of breath marking the space between action and reaction.

Serena's gaze darted from the officer to her father, seeking refuge in the familiar lines of his face yet finding none.

His frown deepened, the shadows of it etching confusion and fear into her very soul.

Serena's heart raced like hooves pounding on pavement; each beat resonated through her chest like thunder reverberating in a stormy sky. The weight of uncertainty bore down on her shoulders like Atlas carrying the world upon his back.

"Dad," she whispered desperately, reaching out for him as if he were a lifeline in an unforgiving sea. Her voice trembled with unshed tears that threatened to spill over at any moment.

Her father's eyes softened briefly before steeling themselves once more with resolve. "It's alright, baby," he murmured reassuringly, though his grip on her hand spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil masked by a facade of calm authority.

The tension in the air crackled like electricity before a storm; each breath drawn felt heavy with impending revelation. The dance of emotions played out on Serena's face like shadows cast by flickering flames. Fear intermingled with defiance as she squared her shoulders.

"Speak with her? About what?" Her father's words landed in Serena's ears like a life raft thrown into the churning waters of uncertainty, momentarily steadying her tumultuous thoughts.

"Sir, this is not the place for discussion. There are protocols—"

"Protocols be damned!" Her father's voice boomed, his fist clenched at his side, knuckles turning ghostly white with tension. "That's my daughter!"