I had been on suspension for three days after that board meeting.
Elena had visited every day, offering comfort and gentle words.
My mother had called, furious as usual—Elena had rushed to relay every detail. Sometimes it felt like she was in a hurry to announce my failure.
I avoided Victor.
He should have defended me at the board. I knew he would have done the same for Elena without hesitation. The consequences of being a "mistress," I reminded myself bitterly.
Finally, I called Aaron. I hesitated for two reasons:
He'd be disappointed in me—two weeks into the company, and I was already facing a fraud case.
And… I had been with Victor four days ago.
I dailed his number and he answered almost immediately.
"Could you maybe come over this evening?" I asked. "The house… it's suffocating me. I need to get out."
He didn't hesitate. "I'll be there."
By 7:00 p.m., he was at the gate. I stood frozen, watching him walk toward me, worry etched across his face.
"How have you been?" he asked softly. "Why have you been avoiding me? Was it… because I asked you to be my girlfriend? I can take it…"
Before I could answer, a siren cut through the quiet evening air.
I froze.
Not for me, I thought. This can't be for me. Elena had assured me everything was being resolved.
The van stopped at our gate. My stomach lurched.
Aaron immediately stepped closer, shielding me instinctively. Two officers emerged, calm and professional. One held a document.
"What's wrong, officer? What brings you here?" Aaron asked, tense.
The officer didn't look at him. "We have an arrest warrant for Mrs. Alyssa Raymond, sir. Please step aside."
Time slowed. My legs felt rooted to the ground.
Aaron searched my eyes, panic and confusion written across his face.
Then movement inside the house.
Elena appeared first, dressed elegantly but looking genuinely worried. She hurried toward me, eyes wide. "Alyssa!" she cried, wrapping me in a tight hug. Her warmth was almost suffocating, but for the first time since the board meeting, I felt… safe.
Victor followed, stepping onto the porch in his suit, his expression taut. He immediately addressed the officers. "Who authorized this?" His voice was sharp but controlled.
Aaron stiffened. "Victor—"
Victor turned to him, cold and commanding. "What are you doing here? This is a family matter. You should leave."
Aaron squared his shoulders, not moving. "Alyssa wants me here. I'm not leaving."
Victor's gaze shifted back to me, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then he returned to the officers.
The officer explained formally. "Mrs. Raymond is required to accompany us for questioning regarding corporate financial misconduct."
Elena squeezed me again. "Don't worry, Alyssa. We'll get through this," she whispered fiercely. Her presence was grounding, protective—completely different from the threat I had imagined.
I shook my head, too stunned to speak. I didn't know what to feel—fear, shame, confusion—all tangled together.
Aaron tightened his grip on my arm. "I'm coming with you," he said firmly.
I shook my head. "No… Aaron. You stay. You don't need to—"
"Not leaving you," he interrupted, jaw tight.
I pressed my hand against his chest, ignoring the tremble in my voice. "Please. I'll be okay. I need you to stay."
Victor, still watching the officers, offered quietly, "I can accompany her."
I didn't even look at him. "No. Aaron is coming."
Elena's grip lingered on my shoulder. "Stay strong, dear," she said softly.
I felt the cool air from the van, the officers waiting patiently, and my chest tightened. My world felt smaller, darker.
And yet, in the hug from Elena, and Aaron's unwavering presence, I felt something fragile flicker—comfort, or maybe hope.
As I climbed into the van, I took one last glance at the house: Elena standing there, worried but composed. Victor's gaze steady, unyielding. And Aaron, my anchor in the storm.
I didn't know how I would survive this.
The ride to the station felt longer than it should have—about thirty minutes, but it could have been hours.
Never in my life had I been in jail. Not even when I worked at the bar, dealing with drunken men, dodging fights, trying to survive late nights. Not even when I had been reckless myself. This… this was different. The air smelled sharp, heavy with something metallic, and every sound seemed amplified—the squeak of the brakes, the hum of the engine, even my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
When the car stopped, I froze. Outside, a black sedan was waiting. Aaron stepped out first. Relief and panic collided in my chest.
"You're here," I whispered, voice trembling.
"Of course I'm here," he said, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.
The officers didn't smile. They led me inside the station, and suddenly the world felt smaller. The walls were harsh, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Metal chairs lined the room, and the faint smell of disinfectant mingled with something sharper, sterner.
"Mrs. Raymond," one officer began, "please sit here. We'll ask some questions, and you'll have an opportunity to explain your side."
The procedure was methodical. They asked me for personal details first, verified my identity. Then they questioned me about the fraudulent contract—dates, amounts, who had access to the files, who had given me the documents.
I explained everything carefully. Every detail, every moment, everything I remembered. The way Luciana had handed me the files. How I had reviewed them—or thought I had. My hesitation, my multitasking. Every explanation I offered was met with the same professional, impersonal nods.
Aaron stayed beside me the entire time, leaning close enough that I could feel his warmth.
"You should have told me sooner," he said quietly, voice low but angry.
"What could I have done?" I asked, my voice tight with shame. "It was already out of my hands."
He exhaled sharply. "We can get a lawyer. I'll make sure you're protected."
I shook my head. "No. I don't want to be a bother. I don't deserve that. Besides… Elena already offered to get our family lawyer."
Aaron's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.
We waited together for a while. I tried to sit upright, to keep my hands steady, to breathe normally—but I couldn't. My stomach churned, my palms were clammy, and every passing minute felt like hours.
What was worse… no one seemed to know how this had escalated so fast. The internal investigation had barely started, yet here I was, in police custody. It made no sense.
"While it's still under investigation," one officer finally said, "you'll remain in our custody until the legal process is clarified."
I swallowed hard, the word custody echoing in my skull like a drum. I had imagined countless worst-case scenarios, but none had ever included sitting in a stark, fluorescent room, handcuffed to a chair, facing strangers who could determine my freedom.
The next day, the tension escalated even more.
Elena arrived at the station first. She looked worried—her brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly together—but composed, elegant, and controlled. Behind her was a tall man in a sharp suit, briefcase in hand. I recognized him immediately as our family lawyer.
The police froze when he handed over his credentials. Commands were exchanged quietly, respect in their tone, a tension in the air that hadn't been there before. For the first time, the room felt different—less hostile, more controlled.
Elena approached me carefully. "Alyssa," she said softly, placing her hand on my shoulder. "I know this is frightening, but we're going to get through it. I brought someone to help."
I looked up at her, at the lawyer standing like a shield beside her. Relief mingled with suspicion—Elena always acted fast, always controlled. Did she know more than she let on? Or was she truly trying to help?
Aaron remained close, his presence steadying me. I grabbed his hand tightly. "I want you with me," I whispered.
He nodded, squeezing my fingers in return. "Always."
The lawyer, professional and calm, began asking questions, reviewing the documents. I explained everything again, my voice quieter this time.
Every step I had taken. Every signature. Every review. Every lapse.
Even as I spoke, one thought gnawed at me—
how had the police gotten the case so quickly? Who had jumped the internal process? It didn't make sense.