VON'S ARREST

Von POV 

I was in a board meeting when my perfect life ended.

Twenty-three investors, a multi-million dollar security contract on the table, and my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. I ignored it. This deal was too important, three years of work coming together in a single presentation.

"As you can see from our track record," I continued, advancing the slide, "Castellano Security Consulting has never had a breach."

My phone lit up again. Becca. The third call in ten minutes.

Guilt pricked at me. My wife had been distant lately, stressed about something she wouldn't discuss. But the investors were leaning forward, interested. Just thirty more minutes.

"Excuse me for one moment." I silenced the phone. "Our cybersecurity division employs former government operatives..."

The conference room doors burst open.

Four officers flooded in, hands on their holsters. "Von Castellano?"

Every head turned. I remained seated, forcing calm. "I'm Von Castellano. What's this about?"

"Stand up. You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder."

The words hung like smoke. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Stand up and put your hands behind your back."

"There must be some mistake." I rose slowly, aware of twenty-three pairs of eyes on me. "I haven't murdered anyone."

The detective showed me a photo. A woman. Dark hair, striking features, defiant eyes even in what appeared to be a mugshot.

I stared, searching my memory but no remembrance of who the person might be. "Who is this?"

"Marissa Hale. Your mistress."

A laugh escaped from my mouth. " Wait, this is a joke right? Because what do you mean my mistress? I've never seen this woman in my life."

"You and Ms. Hale are being charged with the murder of Christopher Hale. Her husband."

The room spun. This was insane. "I don't know anyone named Marissa Hale. I don't know anyone named Christopher Hale."

The detective's partner flipped open a folder. Photos of me entering a hotel, except it wasn't me. Text messages supposedly from my phone. Receipts from restaurants I'd never visited.

"This is fabricated," I said. "All of it."

"Your wife came forward this morning. Provided statements about your suspicious behavior."

The words hit like a blow. "My wife? Becca came to you?"

"She's cooperating fully."

No. Becca wouldn't. "I want to speak to my wife. Right now."

"You'll get your phone call at the station. Turn around."

"This is insane! You're making a massive mistake!"

They handcuffed me anyways not minding my protest . Professional. The click seemed impossibly loud.

They led me through my own building. Employees stopped and stared. Outside, news vans were already there.

Shut! How did they get here?

*"Mr. Castellano, did you kill Christopher Hale?"*

*"Were you having an affair?"*

The questions pelted like stones. I kept my head down.

At the station, they processed me. Fingerprints. Photos. Personal effects confiscated. The holding cell smelled like sweat and desperation.

Two hours clocked before they let me call my wife. My hands shook as I dialed.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?" Her voice was small, frightened.

Relief flooded through me. "Becca. Thank God. Baby, listen to me. I've been arrested, but it's all a mistake. They're saying I killed someone, that I was having an affair with some woman I've never met."

Silence.

"Becca?"

"I know. The police told me. They showed me things, Von. Photos. Messages. Evidence."

"It's all fabricated. Someone is framing me. You have to believe me. I would never cheat on you. I would never hurt anyone."

"So you've been lying to me for months?"

"That's not true!"

"Then explain the hotel receipts!" She was crying now. "Explain the text messages from your phone!"

"I can't explain them because I didn't do any of it! Someone hacked my accounts. This is a setup. Can't you see that?"

"Or you're lying. Like you've been lying all along."

My chest constricted. "Becca, I love you. I have only ever loved you, I would never betray you like this. You're my wife. You know me."

"I thought I did."

"What does that mean?"

"It means.....never mind. My lawyer says I need to protect myself."

The words didn't make sense. "Protect yourself from what?"

"From being dragged down with you. From being implicated in whatever you've done."

"I haven't DONE anything! How can you believe them over me? I'm your husband!"

"They have evidence, Von! Photos and messages and witnesses! What am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to trust me! You're supposed to know that I would never betray you!"

Silence stretched between us.

"Becca? Please. I need you to believe in me."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare hang up. Becca, if you love me, if you ever loved me, don't..."

The line went dead.

"BECCA!" I slammed my hand against the wall. "BECCA!"

The guard approached. "Time's up, Castellano."

"I need five more minutes. Please."

"One call. You made it. Let's go."

He grabbed my arm and I jerked away. "You don't understand. My wife just hung up on me. I need to fix this!"

Two more guards materialized. They dragged me back as I fought. "Let me call her! BECCA!"

They threw me in the cell and locked the door. I stood there, chest heaving, mind unable to process what had just happened.

My wife thought I was a murderer.

I sank onto the bench, head in my hands. Six hours ago, I'd been closing the biggest deal of my career. Now I was in jail for a murder I didn't commit, accused of an affair with a woman I'd never met.

Footsteps approached. A younger guard with something like pity in his eyes.

"Castellano? Your wife's lawyer is here."

Hope flared. "She came?"

"Not your wife. Her lawyer. He's filing for divorce." The guard paused. "She's also agreed to testify against you if the DA needs her."

The floor opened up beneath me.

Divorce. Testify against me. The woman I loved was helping them destroy me.

Through the window, I could hear the chaos outside. Reporters. Cameras. The feeding frenzy of a scandal that would ruin everything I'd built.

 News is probably everywhere now

And somewhere

out there, a woman I'd never met was also in a cell, accused of the same crime. Someone wanting to destroy us.

The question was: who and why me and her?