Patricia's POV
"Is this some kind of joke? Let go of me this instant! I will get my lawyers and make you all suffer for this, I promise you!"
I yelled at the top of my lungs as police officers dragged me out of my art gallery like I was some criminal.
"You're arrested for attempted murder!" One of them hissed at me, like he was disgusted. I could see the spiteful look on his face.
Immediately my husband fell, they came in from nowhere and Quinn proceeded to do the most shocking thing.
"Officers, she tried to kill him! He's not breathing! Call an ambulance!"
She cried out as she rushed to his side and went on her knees to check his pulse and the severity of the bleeding. This bitch was actually shedding tears, it was so believable. Tables have turned.
There was a slight wobble in my chin and my fingers began to tremble because for a second there, I believed her too. I believed that I was crazy enough to push him but coming back to my senses, I remembered that I didn't. I didn't push him. Why were police officers on standby?
I kept yelling and cursing, telling them to let go of me but they refused.
I refused to let them take me so I forcefully freed myself from their grip and ran to my office intercom to place a call. I ran with all my might and shut the door with the lock. With their loud banging from the outside, threatening to break it down, I reached for the intercom.
I called one of my associates and after a couple of rings, it went through so I placed the phone on my ear.
"Andrew, this is an emergency. Call–"
I was cut short with a hysterical laugh that echoed from the other end of the call, just before the line went dead. He hung up on me.
"What the hell?"
Unrelenting, I called another one, from my board of directors.
"You're finished now Trisha, finished."
There was an icy tone in his voice. I couldn't understand it. Finished? How?
"What's that supposed to mean–"
He hung up on me too before I could even finish my sentence. I felt a sudden unease in the air. Something bad had happened. Unable to believe what was happening, I kept trying, tapping my fingers on my desk erratically, panting like crazy. My breathing was anything but rhythmic. I refuse to go down like this!
I finally called one of my chair ladies, and she responded.
"Tanya, it's me, Trisha." I tried to be as calm as I could but my voice still wavered. My composure was slipping. I had never had to say please to anyone before now.
"Please help me call my lawyer. Direct him to the police station! Quickly!" I pleaded, urging her to move with haste.
"What's going on?" I could hear the worry in her voice, but there was no time to explain. The officers in fact did break down my office door and rushed in to get me.
"I can't explain, just please–" My croaked voice trailed off as an officer snatched the intercom from me and they successfully pinned me down. Soon, they bundled me out again, this time with handcuffs. I shot Quinn a disapproving glare as I watched her get into the ambulance. She ignored me and it drove away.
"I didn't push him! I would never do that! Let go of me! I didn't push him!" I let out a high pitched, piercing cry but my pleas fell on deaf ears.
I saw onlookers and my workers watch the whole scene like it was some soap opera. Had they finally succeeded? Is this how excited they all were to see me crumble, to see my downfall?
Finally seated inside the disgusting and smelly police car, we left.
They didn't even have the decency to treat me nicely. They immediately threw me into a private cell, despite my curses and promises to deal with them. It looked like the whole world was against me.
I roared, my face tightened and all my muscles contracted so badly that they popped to the surface of my face.
The police officers had to silence me with a tranquilizer because I kept banging the iron rods for them to let me out.
When I woke up, it was the next morning, and I locked eyes with my husband immediately. He stood outside. It seemed like he had been watching me sleep for a while now. How was it possible? He was taken to the hospital!
Clouded by rage, I stood up and gripped the iron bars, demanding that he freed me.
"What the hell are you doing here? Where's that whore? Tell them I didn't push you! I don't deserve to be here! Tell them the truth! I have things to do!" I kept yelling, kicking the iron bars like a seven year old.
My husband stared, shook his head softly and looked at me with pity. Soon, everything began to make sense.
"I told you she's unstable. Her therapists are all tired. She's been unable to move on from her sister's death that happened years ago. She blames herself for it so she often goes into a crisis. She's been acting this way for a while now and I feel so sorry for her because she doesn't even realize it." His gaze drifted from me pitifully to the police officer he was lying to.
My jaw dropped, and there was a steady ringing in my ears that hurt so much.I instantly forgot how to expand my lungs so I could breathe. The accusation lingered in the air.
My hands trembled violently so I held onto the iron bars so I wouldn't fall to my knees due to weakness.
H-how could he do this to me, after everything I've done for him? My voice wavered as I asked myself, unable to believe it. For the first time, I wanted to cry.
Didn't my lawyer come for me the day before? Tanya didn't help me?
"I didn't expect her to push me, and I think after her trial, a psychiatric hospital would be befitting for her, please take care of my wife. I'm so worried." He was pitiful, it was believable, but it was all a lie.
Psychiatric hospital? Was this what he planned for me? To ruin me and send me away?
This time around I looked up at him, I glowered at him I watched as a faint grin played on his lips. He had planned this, but I would never let him win. I demanded that he explain how I was unstable.
"Henry, prove to the police officers that I'm unstable, I fucking dare you!" Finally, the first drops of tears fell. My voice got lower and lower by the second, I couldn't even talk loudly anymore.
"Honey, I'm only trying to help you. You don't realize it. Wait, I brought everything."
"Brought what?" I spat, and that's when I saw the brown document he had been holding. He opened it in my presence and that of a couple of police officers.
"Here are her medical reports. She's unstable. Can we hasten the process to the psychiatric hospital, she's losing it!" He barked loudly, urging them to hurry up.
"I never did such tests! I never did!" I blasted my defense loudly for everyone that would care to listen.
"Officer, she's also having memory issues."
He said it impulsively, to defend himself. My husband had become a wicked stranger.
"I knew you wouldn't remember honey, that's why I took pictures to show you, even voice recordings."
He showed everything to the officers. Even videos where I was throwing tantrums, but they weren't what they seemed. They were clearly meticulously arranged to make me look that way.
It startled me too because the pictures of me in the hospital weren't edited. I remembered that day. Did he trick me to go there? Was this a scheme? Had he been playing to bring me down.
"I'm not unstable!" It was my last resort as I couldn't even say that the pictures were fake.
"I don't think your doctor would agree, honey." Just then, my own personal doctor walked in.
"Otto, what are you doing here?" I asked, tears stinging my face at the betrayal. My heart completely shattered. My husband recruited him too?
"I'm sorry Patricia, you need medical help."
His voice cut. He was such an actor!
"What? How could you–"
"Henry is only trying to help you, we all are." They stared at me with pity.
"Don't worry honey, I'll take care of the company until you get better."
"How do you intend to do that?" I barked. It's my company, there's no way the board of directors will remove me from my CEO position.
Just then, the news reached my ears through the television in the room.
"CEO Patrica Lynn, the rich mogul, has been arrested for attempted murder and art forgery. All her shares have been transferred to her husband as she is considered unstable…"
I couldn't bear to listen anymore. Crashing down, I covered my ears with my hands and screamed with what was left of my now croaky voice. I couldn't stop screaming. Art forgery? How?
Have I been framed?
Looking up and shooting a glare at my husband, A knowing look on my husband's face was all I needed to know what had happened.