Officers half dragged, half shoved Mira through the bustling police station while their grips on her remained firm and almost impersonal on her arms.
Her mind was full of frantic scrolling through lists of crimes she'd never committed, but the police had literally listed them all for her.
Tax evasion? Threats? Violence?
What the actual hell did you do, Lorena? Is this really happening? Would I really end up in jail?
She pulled the stupid robe tighter, wishing she could simply disappear into the fabric.
A crumpled paper flew out of nowhere and bounced off her shoulder.
"Enjoy jail, you psycho!" a voice yelled from outside the station.
Yes, some of the reporters and anti-fans had actually followed her here.
Mira couldn't help but wonder if people were so jobless or had no real-life problems to be so annoying.
She ignored the whispers that kept following her like a toxic cloud. She had much more problems than them now. Problems that could send her to jail.
The panic she had been trying so hard to hold seemed to break through now as her breath came in short, sharp gasps while her hands trembled so badly.
What if I ended up going to jail for things I didn't even do? What if they just lock me up?
She now felt stupid. She felt like she should have simply stayed with Lucas. She should have taken his hand instead of acting so stuck up.
The officers pushed her towards a hard plastic chair in a waiting area, not even bothering to be gentle.
Last she checked, no police officer should be so rough like this unless she obstructed their jobs, which she didn't even do.
It was as if they also had their own prejudice against her.
The station was full of its own chaos as phones kept ringing off the hook. One guy was singing off-key in a holding cell and a woman was sobbing over a stolen purse.
Mira continued to scan the room as her heart beat so fast. Not even in her previous life had she been to the police station. At least not as the criminal, only the victim.
Would Lucas even help her now? She turned him down after all. Was that why he refused to help her back there?
The thought made her feel small, helpless, and terrifyingly alone.
The station doors bursting open with a force jolted Mira out of her panic.
An elderly woman stood there, chest heaving. She was small and frail-looking, but her eyes burned with so much grief. She scanned the room, and when her gaze found Mira, it stopped there like she'd found a bomb.
Before any officer could even move, or maybe they just didn't care, the woman was across the room.
"You!" she yelled in a cracking voice. Her hand, surprisingly strong, grabbed Mira's arm while her nails dug in.
"Lorena Sanders! I welcomed you into my home! I fed you at my table! I trusted you with Alie, not knowing that you were the cause of her depression and torments!"
Mira leaned back as the words hit her like physical blows.
But the woman was not done. Her hands flew up and slapped Mira hard across the face.
The sting was so much that Mira could not help the tears that welled in her eyes.
"You acted like her friend each time, but you're really just the devil's incarnate!" the woman sobbed, her whole body shaking.
A sound came out of Mira's throat before she could stop it. It was half sob, half laughter. She just couldn't help it.
The absurdity of this whole situation was funny to her. It was like she'd woken up in a badly written soap opera.
The woman saw her laugh and of course misinterpreted everything. "You dare laugh at me?!" she screamed again as more rage filled her. "You dare laugh after killing my Alie?"
She lunged, about to slap her again, but this time two officers finally snapped into action. They pulled her back even though she was thrashing and screaming.
"I'll make sure you go to jail for this! No… not just jail, hell! I'll make sure you go to hell! You'll pay!"
Mira just stood there as her cheek throbbed painfully.
Seeing that she was causing so much commotion, the police immediately put her in a small, airless interrogation room.
The walls were black while the table before her was bolted to the floor. Only one single, blinding light hung above her in the room.
An officer whose face looked like tired concrete slapped a file on the table and leaned in.
"Let's start from the top, Miss Sanders. The allegations are quite… extensive."
He flipped the file open. "Let's begin with Alie Thompson. Verbal abuse, psychological torment, and even physical assault."
He then turned a laptop towards Mira as a video played.
It was of Lorena, filled with rage, slapping a crying girl across the face.
Mira's shock was immediate. She had never thought Lorena did any of these things she was accused of. She just thought it was the usual cancel culture.
She couldn't believe it. "That's… that's not possible? It has to be edited! Maybe even AI!"
The officer didn't so much as blink at her denial. "Right. Of course. But you need to know that we have multiple eyewitnesses from your sets who have already come forward. We also have this."
He slid a photocopied page across the table.
It was a diary entry in clear looping handwriting.
October 12th. Lorena cornered me again today. Said my acting was pathetic and she doesn't understand why I'm still doing it. Said I better quit the project before I ruin it for all of us. She hadn't even apologized for the slap I got the previous day. I don't know what to do. I thought she was my friend.
Mira stared as her stomach turned.
This can't be happening. I never… Lorena never did this. Or did she? Did Lorena really do this? I don't know her after all.
"Now," the second officer, the woman who had cuffed her before, chimed in. "Let's talk about the money. Where is it?"
Mira blinked, confused. "The… money?"
"Yes, the several million dollars that you systematically withdrew from your accounts over the last few days before your… suicide. You seemed to have known that you'd be charged with tax evasion soon enough and quickly got all of the money away to avoid them being frozen. Care to explain?"
Mira's mind halted.
Wait. Lorena had millions of dollars but foresaw that her account would get frozen?
Her mind was jumbled up as she tried to piece things together.
So she withdrew everything right before her suicide? But how? Was she planning to run? Why would she even need to withdraw all her money if she was going to commit suicide anyway?
Her mind hit a realization. Or… maybe it wasn't suicide. Maybe she was murdered?
"I… I don't know," she stammered truthfully.
"Oh, you don't know where your own money is?" the first officer scoffed. "You seem to be so adamant on denying every single thing."
They continued to fire more questions at her while showing her more clips of evidence. Lorena screaming at a cowering assistant, Lorena throwing a phone at a wall, and many more.
Mira was now going through a full-blown panic. Even she knew these were enough to get anyone locked up.
But then a sudden desperate memory she had from watching a hundred crime shows flashed in her head. She slammed her hands on the table.
"You know what? I want my lawyer!" she blurted out.
The two officers stared at her before bursting into laughter.
"Did you forget?" the female officer said. "Your entire legal team dropped you months ago. You don't have a lawyer, Miss Sanders."
Mira pulled at her hair as the position of no help she was in washed over her properly.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could simply wake up as anyone else.
But then the door to the interrogation room slammed open so hard.
A man stood there, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than the entire police station.
The officers jumped to their feet. "Sir, you can't just—"
The man didn't even look at them. His eyes scanned the room instead and then landed on Mira's red cheek.
His expression changed to rage. "Step away from her," he said. Even though his voice wasn't loud in any way, it carried threat. "Continue this questioning without my presence and I will personally ensure you answer for it with your careers."
The officers froze, obviously intimidated.
Mira looked at the man, wondering where she had seen him before, but she couldn't place it.
Did Lucas send him?
The man walked into the room and placed a sleek leather briefcase on the table.
"My name," he started slowly, "is Damian Johnson."
He paused, as if letting them assimilate that first.
"I am her lawyer." He paused again as his eyes swept over the officers like they were insects.
"And if you so much as think about touching my little sister again, you will face the full wrath of the law."