Chapter 25 - Tricked and Arrested

The kitchen is a tomb, and the air is thick with the copper tang of fresh blood and the smell of old dust. Olivia remains on her knees, her hands still pressed against Weiller’s cooling skin.

Her mind is a fractured mess of images: the familiarity of the knife, the pool of blood, and the look of pure terror in the dead man’s eyes.

Suddenly, the oppressive silence is shattered by a sound that should bring relief, but instead feels like a physical blow to her chest. Wail. Wail. Wail.

Blue and red lights dance frantically against the boarded-up windows, filtering through the cracks in the wood like strobe lights in a nightmare.

"Thank God," Olivia thinks, her breath hitching in a sob of pure exhaustion. "The police are here. They can take the body. They can trace the knife. They can find Chloe."

She starts to stand, her dress heavy and wet with Weiller's blood, when a deafening crash echoes through the house.

The front door is kicked open with such force that the hinges scream.

"POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR! SURRENDER NOW!"

The command is a roar, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots on the rotted floorboards.

Olivia freezes, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She remains on the floor, her mind unable to process the aggression.

Surely they aren't talking to her? She's the one who found him. She's the victim here.

"I SAID YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, YOUNG WOMAN! DO IT NOW!"

Olivia sprouts off the ground, her body shaking so fiercely she nearly collapses again.

Three officers burst into the kitchen, their service weapons drawn and leveled directly at her chest. The tactical lights on their guns blind her, searing into her retinas.

How did they get here so fast? How did they know she was in this abandoned house on the edge of the city?

The realization hits her like a tidal wave: someone called this in before she even arrived. This wasn't a rescue. It was a setup.

"You’re under arrest for the murder of Weiller!" the lead officer roars, his face a mask of stone-cold authority.

"No... no, Offi... Officer, please!" Olivia cries, her voice a jagged, desperate rasp.

She reaches out a hand, forgotten that it's stained crimson. "I didn't... I found him! He was already dying!"

"DON'T MOVE! YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT! ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU IN A COURT OF LAW!"

The officer lunges forward, grabbing her arm and spinning her around with a force that makes her shoulder pop.

Olivia stands, her face long, her head spinning from left to right as the cold steel of the handcuffs snaps shut around her wrists.

The metal is biting, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the blood still on her skin.

"I didn't do it!" she screams, the words lost in the cavernous house. "I... I met him like this! Look at the knife! 

"Shut up! Now move!" the officer commands, shoving her toward the door.

The gun in his other hand remains steady, moving from Olivia to the dark corners of the house, treating her like a high-level threat rather than a grieving sister.

Back at the Logan penthouse, the atmosphere is equally volatile.

Aiden is pacing his bedroom, his shirt unbuttoned, the image of Vivian’s betrayal and Olivia’s departure looping in his head.

A sharp, insistent knock echoes at the door.

"Get the…….!" Aiden begins to roar, but he swallows the insult hard as he pulls the door open and sees Raphael standing there.

Raphael’s expression is neutral, but his eyes are sharp, taking in Aiden’s disheveled state and the lingering scent of Vivian’s perfume in the room.

"Sss... sorry, Boss," Raphael says, his voice low. "I came to inform you... Madam left earlier with the SUV. Master wanted me to….."

"Oh, sh*t!" Aiden cuts in, his hand flying to his forehead.

The color drains from his face. He had been so distracted by Vivian’s trap that he had let the tracker move without watching it.

He had let her walk right into the lion’s mouth. He rushes back into the room, grabbing his encrypted phone and his keys from the nightstand.

"Boss? Is everything okay? Do you need backup?" Raphael asks, stepping into the room.

Aiden doesn't answer. He rushes out of the suite, hitting Raphael off his path with his shoulder as he sprints toward the private elevator.

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoes down the hall, followed by the aggressive ding of the lift.

Raphael stands alone in the hallway, his shoulder aching from the collision. He looks toward the empty suite, then toward the elevator where Aiden disappeared.

"What at all is going on in this house?" Raphael thinks to himself, standing akimbo as he surveys the chaos.

"This is the second time in less than 24 hours I’ve been pushed away without an explanation. First Lady Vivian, now the Boss. I’m sure Mrs. Logan would also come and add hers if she were here."

He looks at the shattered vase still lying on the floor and shakes his head.

"If my waist doesn't break today from being shoved around," he murmurs with a dark, cynical smirk, "then my head will. Or maybe a bone will just dislocate from the sheer stupidity of this family."

He bends down to pick up a shard of the glass, his eyes glinting with a secret he’s not ready to share.