Anthony It had been two long, grueling weeks since I arrived here—two weeks without daylight. The cell was suffocating. The air was heavy with sweat, filth, and despair. I hated it. There was no escape, not even the chance of bail. Zina had done everything she could, and even my mom had tried. But the court refused, claiming the case was too severe and that Vivian was supposedly afraid for her life because I was a “threat.” The irony of it all. The real criminal was out there, living her life, while I rotted in this hellhole. Zina had mentioned that D'Angelo was hunting for Vivian, but there wasn’t a single trace of her. Wasn't that enough to show everyone that she was a manipulative bastard? Yet here I was, gripping the cold iron bars, feeling every ounce of rage flood me. The cell was filled with men awaiting trial, some hardened criminals. Every day was a battle
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