Oliver's POV
The car drives off leaving me standing on the front door steps and wondering what the hell is going on.
Until now, she seemed like a poor girl with nothing left in the world. But everything changed the moment two bodyguards showed up with an order from her father to bring her 'home'.
Whatever. I shake my head.
After returning to bed, it doesn't take long for me to give up the chase for m remaining two hours of sleep. I get ready and start heading back home instead.
***
My parents and wife-to-be are having breakfast in the dramatically colourful garden when I arrive. It's my least favourite place to dine, but my family seems to love it.
I join them at the table only because I'm hungry, but soon realise it's not worth it as I get sucked into their conversation.
"I was just telling them about a few plans I've made for our wedding," Amanda says.
"It's not until next year," I say pouring myself a cup of coffee.
"Yes. In the summer. We should do it outdoors with a floral theme," she beams. I could never tell her this, but I hate the way she talks about our wedding. As if we were in love and it wasn't purely arranged. Her enthusiasm sickens me. Her predictability bores me, and her simplicity makes me wonder if she practices her words, her smile, and every single gesture every morning in front of the mirror before heading downstairs to try and impress my parents.
"That sounds great," is all I say.
After thirty minutes, I' e heard enough. So I head out to work.
Office hours are as draining as usual.
By 6 pm, I decide I'd rather be in the gym. But then my secretary informs me that the police are here to see me.
I frown. "Who?"
"The head of the serious crimes investigation department," she repeats. "He's here with a fellow officer."
"Send them in."
Two men walk in, dressed casually. The one that is obviously the boss among them introduces himself. "I came here personally to bring you in. We need to ask you a few questions."
I look up at them from behind my desk. "Is this an arrest?"
"Obviously not. But we have reason to believe that you are somehow linked to a case we're working on."
"What case?"
"Attempted murder."
I laugh. I can't help it. "Do you have any evidence?"
They glance at each other. And instead of answering, he places a photograph on my desk and pushes it under my nose.
"Have you been in contact with this woman?"
I eye him and his fellow officer, before looking down at the picture. And even though my stomach drops, I give little to no reaction.
It's Bella.
"I'm not answering any of your questions without my lawyers."
He snatches the picture away. "Right. But you should know, Mr. Knight, that I came here directly out of respect for you. You have less than twenty-four hours to report to the station. If not I will seek out an arrest warrant and this will be an ugly experience for you."
And with that, they leave.
My office falls excruciatingly silent again, only this time, my mind is spinning. What is all this?
I have half a mind to track her down and get her to tell me what the hell she has gotten me into, but I'd rather use this time to find a lawyer if I want this to die down quickly.
***
I never imagined how humiliating it is to sit in these little interrogation rooms and have a bunch of people scrutinise me as they try and get me to talk my way into prison.
"I'll ask you again, sir. Have you been in contact with this woman?"
I place at my lawyer, who gives me a small nod and then I say, "yes."
He nods. And then he pushes a sheet of paper toward me. It's a picture of a man I don't know.
"Do you know this man?"
"No."
"He was poisoned last night. He survived but he's now in a coma." He stops, waiting for my reaction. I stare blankly, waiting to hear what all of this has to do with me.
"Tell us why you think my client is involved in this case," my lawyer, Tristan, says, tilting his head forward to draw the interrogator's attention to himself.
It takes him a while, but he finally tears his eyes away from me, looking over at Tristan. "We're getting there."
A knock on the door interrupts him. The intruder, another officer, says, "Miss Ward is here."
Miss Ward? Bella?
For the first time since I walked in here, my body tenses up.
"Bring her in."
He smiles. "The more the merrier, right?"
I'm about to punch him in the face.
A sudden mixture of emotions hits me so hard that I start to feel like the walls are closing in on me. Anger, confusion, fear.
I tug at my necktie. Tristan turns to me, giving me a look that says, 'are you alright?'. But before I can say anything, the door opens and there she is.
The first thing I notice is her heels. Tall, dark red stilettos.
She's wearing a s dress that clings onto her body perfectly, complemented by the dazzling jewellery around her neck and wrists.
Her hair, her smile, her eyes, she looks incredible.
I soon realise that she is not the woman I met last night. Something has changed, and her aura has shifted into something dangerous.
Tristan's body is still turned to me, but his eyes are fixed on Bella, with his lips slightly parted in awe.
Her scent fills the room.
"Miss Ward, please have a seat."
She sits at the table with us, folding her hands over her lap. She disregards me as if she hadn't been sleeping under my roof a few hours ago.
"Didn't you bring a lawyer?" I say to her. She turns to me, sparing me a brief glance before turning her head back. "It's not easy to find one at such short notice."
I can't take my eyes off her.
"There's nothing for you to worry about," the officer says. "The sooner I get the information I need from you two, the sooner you can leave. Mr. Knight?"
I blink, focusing on the officer once more.
He shows me another document. "There was an empty vile found in the victim's apartment. We believe it contained the poison that he consumed and it has your fingerprints on it. Can you explain this?"
I feel Tristan's glare before I see it. I already know he's going to give me a load of crap for not telling him about this. But honestly, I have no idea how the hell my fingerprints ended up in a forensics report.
"Could be a coincidence," I reply with a shrug. "We can't take that chance," the officer says. He leans back in his chair, looking between Bella and me.
"Is there anything I need to know about your boyfriend?" He asks Bella.
"Ex-boyfriend," she corrects him. "And…yes."
Suddenly, I want to know about him too. I didn't care much before, but now I want to know how she ended up here. How we all ended up here.
"The fact is that Mark is a horrible person. He was a terrible boyfriend. He was an abusive loser and I regret every second that I spent with him. But I would never do anything to hurt him," she says.
"What happened that night?"
She takes a deep breath, sighing as she continues. "Well… I came home after my shift and found him holding onto the money I had saved up so that I could move out of his apartment. I wanted to leave him," she says.
"He wouldn't let me though. He said we could talk it out, and then he offered me a drink, and after a while, I realised that he had drugged me."
She speaks so clearly and casually that it makes me wonder if she is even affected by all of this. But I can sense the faintest bit of vulnerability behind her indifferent expressions.
"Everything you say here is on the record. Are you sure about what you're telling us?"
She nods. "Yes. And I'm not finished." She takes another deep breath before she continues.
"After I woke up, I was still out of it. All I remember is that he tried to assault me once more but I managed to get away. I don't know what happened after that."
"And the poison?"
She shrugs.
A chill runs down my spine as I recall the bruises I had seen on her body. How long had she been with that man? Why?
I wait for him to ask, but he doesn't. Instead, he stands and says, "that's all for now."
Bella stands too. I catch myself following her out of the room and grabbing onto her arm to stop her.
She turns around a look of surprise on her face. I let go hesitantly. What has gotten into me?
"Are you alright?"
She smiles softly. "I'm fine."
Bella's POV
"I'm fine."
He doesn't seem to believe me. But I can't find a single hint of pity in his expression. That makes me relax a bit.
I came here knowing he was called in too. But I have no idea how he got involved in this, even after he strictly stated that he didn't want to. It really isn't my fault though, right?
All I can sense is his curiosity. But he holds back from bombarding me with questions. I wouldn't even know how to answer them.
"Where are you headed?"
"Back to work," he replies.
"Do you mind coming with me to my car?"
He hesitates but doesn't ask why. "Okay."
I open the door, reach into the car, and pull out a phone. The one he lent me.
"I thought you might want this back," I say, handing it to him. He takes it, his eyes never leaving mine.
And then finally, he says, "You have some explaining to do."
I smile. "I know."
"Where are you headed?" He asks as if he finally thinks it's my turn to answer that.
"Home."
"You said you didn't have one," he says. I might have imagined it but he sounds a little disappointed now.
"I don't," I reply honestly. "But I have to stay where I am for a while."
I know I'm being vague, but the more I say, the more questions he will have. And right now I have to get back to my parents so that I can deal with them.
"Goodbye, Oliver."
He watches me drive off.
I can't believe he had to hear all that stuff about Mark but I think he would have found out eventually.
My parents have managed to maintain the magnificence of their mansion. The one I gave up because I was tired of getting sucked into their business politics. The one I neglected because I thought life with Mark would make me so much happier.
Driving through the incredible landscapes that lead up to the building is truly a breath of fresh air. It surprises me how quickly my body and my mind have been able to readjust to this life. Even though I can't enjoy it now since my parents are still mad at me for ghosting them for years.
I park by the water fountain and someone comes to get the car. I don't recognise any of the staff which is strange, but I couldn't care less as long as they don't interfere.
They're waiting for me in the family living room when I enter, scowling as if they had just been discussing my issue. I sigh.
"You're the one that decided to force me back home," I say slumping into a chair. "If you want me out, I've proven that I can survive without you. I'll be fine."
"Clearly you can't survive without killing a man," Father mutters sarcastically.
"Mark is not dead, and I wasn't trying to kill him."
"Did you visit him at the hospital?" Mother asks.
"Why on earth would I do that? To show my fake kindness?"
"Who cares if it's fake? We'll have the press on our backs as soon as more of this gets out," Father says. "You have to show some level of sympathy if you want this to blow over quickly."
I'm not sure if they know what that man has done to me. I'm not sure if they care.
"And what if that doesn't work?" I ask.
He glares at me. "Then we'll arrange for you to leave."
"Leave?"
"Go anywhere else you'd like to live. Go halfway across the world from here. If you disappear it will be easier to bury this issue."
"That man could have killed me if I hadn't escaped!"
"Darling, your father isn't to blame for that," Mother says. "You are."