Chapter Two

*Avina*

I finally forced myself to move, taking slow tentative steps backwards. “There has to be some sort of mixup somewhere,” I argued, shaking my head.

“We have the evidence with us, Mrs. Graves,” one of the policemen countered. “It would be in your best interests if you follow us now or we would be inclined to use force on you.”

My blood pressure spiked, the sound of my pounding heartbeat flooding my ears. This can't be happening.

I was going to die of a heart attack at this rate.

I have always been a law abiding citizen all my life, constantly volunteering and helping those in need and what now? I'm being accused of fraud and embezzlement?

Reaching into my coat pockets for my phone, I soon realized with a sickening feeling of doom that it has gone off.

Fuck!

I ran my tongue over my parched lips as I scrambled for the next action to take. “Call my husband, call Xavier for me… please.”

The lead officer let out a sigh and rolled his eyes as if he was already bored by my theatrics. “I'm afraid we can't do that ma'am.”

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline in confusion. “But— but that’s my right. I—I’m allowed to call someone. I haven’t even been charged yet. You can’t just—”

My words tangled over each other, breath coming too fast, too shallow. I could even hear the faint tremor creeping into my voice, betraying me.

The officer didn’t even let me finish.

“There’s an ongoing investigation, ma’am,” he said flatly, cutting me off like a switch had been flipped. “Any outside contact could compromise evidence.”

“Evidence?” I scoffed, the sound coming out sharp and wrong. “This is ridiculous. You forced your way into my house, brandishing some unverified outrageous charges and now you’re acting like I’m some kind of criminal. I just need to talk to my husband…just one call—”

He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the floor in front of me.

“Your husband is not available,” he said. Then, after a beat added, “And given the new information that’s come to light, you are no longer permitted to make any calls at this time.”

My stomach dropped.

“New information?” I whispered. “What are you talking about?”

His gaze hardened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “We have reason to believe you may have been involved in an attempt to harm your husband.”

The room tilted.

I felt it then, an icy rush flooding my veins, my fingers going numb as if all the blood had been drained from them at once.

“W-what?” The word barely made it past my throat. “That’s— that’s insane. I would never—”

“Ma’am,” he cut in, already reaching for his notepad, his tone flattening into something rehearsed and impersonal. “At this point, I need you to listen carefully.”

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say from this moment onward may be used against you in a court of law,” he continued, eyes never leaving mine. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you.”

The silence that followed pressed in on my ears, thick and suffocating.

“I—I didn’t do anything,” I said desperately, the words tumbling out of me. “You can’t just decide that. You don’t understand, this is a mistake. Please, just let me explain.”

The lead officer didn’t respond this time.

Instead, he lifted his hand and made a short, sharp motion with his fingers.

Before I could process it, the other two officers moved in from either side.

“Wait-what are you doing?” Panic clawed up my throat as hands grabbed my arms, rough and unyielding. “Stop—please, you’re getting this wrong. I’m not resisting, I swear—”

Cold metal snapped around my wrists, the click of the handcuffs echoing too loudly in my head.

The pressure of my arms being wrenched behind my back forced the air from my lungs, my stomach seizing so hard I gagged. A sharp, humiliating retch tore out of me as my body folded forward.

“Ma’am, stop resisting,” someone barked.

“I’m not resisting,” I cried hoarsely, tears spilling as another cramp doubled me over. “It hurts please—my stomach. I didn’t do anything…”

They dragged me upright anyway, my pleas falling on deaf ears.

Each step sent shockwaves of pain through me, my head spinning, sweat breaking out cold and slick along my spine. My vision swam, the hallway tilting wildly as I stumbled, barely keeping my feet.

“Stop dragging me like that,” I begged, my voice dissolving into a rasp. “I’m sick. I can’t breathe. Please just let me call my husband—”

No one answered.

The door was kicked open open and icy air hit my face, making me gag again, my body convulsing as another wave of nausea rolled through me. My knees gave out this time, my weight sagging uselessly between them.

“Get her up,” the lead officer ordered coolly.

I whimpered as they hauled me toward the car, my head pounding, stomach screaming, humiliation burning hotter than the pain. The world narrowed to the metallic taste in my mouth, the bite of the cuffs, the way my body betrayed me over and over again.

“I’m innocent,” I sobbed weakly as they shoved me into the back seat. “I would never hurt my husband. Never. Ask anyone, ask Xavier, he’ll tell you…please…”

The door slammed shut behind me. My pleas falling on deaf ears as the car swallowed me whole.

*****

The next few days were a blur of shadows and pain.

They didn't put me in a normal cell. They instead planted me in a room with no windows and a single flickering light. The acrid smell of damp concrete and sweat making my already nauseous stomach worse.

Every few hours, the door would creak open and men I didn't know would enter.

"Sign the confession, Avina," they would bark into my face, their eyes bleak with hatred.

"I didn't do it," I would sob, my voice hoarse.

Then afterwards came the "interrogation." They would keep me awake for twenty-four hours at a time, shining bright lights in my eyes. When I drifted off, they would pour cold water over my head to force me awake. One man, a guard with a scarred knuckle, liked to squeeze my arm right where the IV bruises were from the hospital.

"You stole millions from sick people," he hissed, twisting my skin hard. "Just sign it and the pain stops."

"I didn't steal anything," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I’m dying. Please. I need my medicine."

"You're a liar," he spat, particles of saliva landing on my face. "You're just trying to get out of a death sentence."

After this, a female officer would enter for her daily “brushing up” sessions which only involved her kicking and slapping me around. Afterwards, I'd lay on the cold floor, shivering and occasionally coughing out blood.

My body felt like it was being eaten from the inside out. The "Cellular Degeneration" was moving fast. Every joint ached. My vision was starting to fail and at this speed, I was sure I wouldn't even last a full month.

On the third day or so, they all entered but didn't lay a hand on me. Instead, they turned on a small TV in the interrogation room.

"In a shocking turn of events," the news anchor said, "the wife of the city’s favorite doctor, Xavier Graves, has been revealed as a master manipulator. Sources say Avina Graves suffered from deep-seated anxiety and an obsession with controlling her husband’s wealth."

The screen panned to a video of me. It was from a month ago, when I’d had a panic attack in the garden. But the video was weird. It was slowed down, my face distorted into a terrifying mask of rage. It looked like I was screaming at Xavier, when really, I had been crying in his arms.

More videos showed me in similar settings where I was either screaming at Xavier or screaming at one of the hospital staff. The video also had a segment of people who claimed that I bullied them and relentlessly seeked for information on my husband.

"Medical experts suggest her deteriorating health may have been a cover for her crimes," the reporter continued, "more footage obtained by this station shows a woman on the edge of sanity, reportedly monitoring her husband's every move and attempting to seize control of the Graves hospital conglomerate through fraudulent means.”

I watched in horror as my own pain was turned into a weapon against me. They were painting me as a monster to the entire city.

But why?

What on earth have I done to warrant this sort of torment and lies?

“Those videos have been edited!” I yelled, my pulse vibrating with the need to just scream at the injustice of everything.

The door opened, and an entirely different female officer stepped in. I paused for a moment, my brows knitting together as I squinted.

Something told me she was someone I was familiar with and as she stepped into the light, my heart sank.

Sarah Miller. She had been in my high school class. Back then, she had been one of Daphne’s most loyal followers. She was the girl who had pinned me against the lockers while Daphne stole my lunch money.

She became an officer? A high ranked one from the way the officers in the room instantly reacted upon her entry.

"Well, well," Lola said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. She leaned back, a smug smile on her face. "Look how the mighty have fallen. Avina Drene-Graves. You don't look so pretty now, do you?"

"Lola," I whispered tiredly. "Please. You know me. You know I wouldn't do this."

"Oh, I know you perfectly," Lola spat, her eyes flashing with malice. "I know you were always the 'perfect' one. The one with the rich husband and the big house. But the game is over, Avina. The evidence is mountain-high. Just sign the confession and save us all the trouble."

I threw my head back in frustration. “What evidence?” I groaned. “There's barely any evidence and that's why y'all have been trying to coerce one out of me!”

Sarah just silently slid a file across the table for me to read. And boldly written on the front was my name.

AVINA DRENE-GRAVES.

Under it were series of documented evidence of

• Unauthorized offshore bank accounts registered in my name

• Illegal transfer of hospital research funds totaling millions

• Manipulation of pharmaceutical trial data

• Bribery of medical board officials

• Identity fraud

• Obstruction of justice

I shook my head violently. “This is fake.”

She opened another page, and there was my signature. Perfect, intricate and all mine.

“I didn’t do this,” I whispered as the accusations tightened around my neck. “I don’t even understand half of these words.”

Sarah just lifted one of her brows, titling her head to the side. “Oh really?”

"I’m innocent!" I cried, the effort causing another fit of coughing. I leaned over, blood spattering onto the metal table. "I’m sick, Sarah. Look at me! I'm not even disposed to take care of myself talk more of being capable of pulling such a high level fraud like that!”

Sarah didn't even flinch. She just looked at the blood with a bored expression. "Nice trick. You always were a good actress. But no one is coming for you, Avina. Not your father. Not your husband. You’re done."

"What’s going to happen to me?" I sobbed, the fight leaking out of me. "Please. Just tell me."

Sarah leaned in close, her voice a low, vicious whisper. "Since you’re clearly so 'unstable,' the court is going to order you to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital. For your own 'recovery,' of course. While we finish the investigation. You’ll be tucked away in a padded cell where no one can hear you scream."

My spirit broke. I slumped back in the chair, the last of my hope vanishing. A psychiatric hospital. A place where they could drug me until I forgot my own name.

Was this one of Daphne's antics? She had always had it out for me since we were kids so it's surely not beneath her to set me up like this.

"Move it," Sarah barked, standing up and grabbing my arm.

She hauled me out of the room and down a long, sterile hallway. I could barely keep my feet. My chest was a furnace of pain, and every breath was a battle I was losing. As she led me to the back exit, I saw a group of officers crowded around a tablet, laughing.

"Man, that Graves gala is going to be the event of the year," one of them said. "Free champagne, the whole city there... all to celebrate Dr. Xavier becoming the new CMD of the hospital."

"He deserves it," another replied. "After what that wife of his put him through."

My heart gave a violent lurch. A gala? Tonight?

Xavier was celebrating. He was finally being named Chief Medical Director. My mind raced. This was it. This was why he hadn't come. He was busy! He probably didn't even know the police had been so cruel to me. Daphne must be the one telling the police these lies. She wanted him for herself. She was the one who framed me!

I had to get to him. If I could just get to the gala, I could tell him everything. I could show him the blood on my tissues. He would see how sick I was and he would save me. He would clear my name.

“Move it!” Lola hissed, tightening her grasp on my arm as she yanked me forward.

She pushed me toward the van, but as she reached for the door, a sudden, loud crash echoed from the front of the station. A car had jumped the curb, smashing into a row of parked cruisers. The officers nearby shouted and ran toward the commotion, leaving Lola alone with me.

Lola looked toward the noise, her hand momentarily loosening on my arm. "What the hell—"

This was it. My only chance.

I didn't think. I just moved. I slammed my elbow into Sarah’s ribs with every ounce of strength I had left. She let out a sharp gasp of pain and stumbled back. Before she could recover, I turned and ran.

I didn't run toward the street. I ran toward the dense woods that bordered the back of the station. My lungs were screaming, and the taste of blood was thick in my mouth, but I didn't stop. I crashed through the brush, the branches tearing at my skin, until the sounds of the station faded behind me.

I had to see him. I had to get to that gala.

Xavier would clear this up. He had to. Maybe he was being blackmailed. Maybe Daphne was forcing him. My mind, desperate to survive, clung to the last shred of a lie. If I could just look him in the eye, if I could show him what they were doing to me, he would save me. He had to save me.

Just like he saved me way back in college.

I looked toward the hills from where I could see the lights of the Graves estate glowing like a beacon in the dark.

"I'm coming, Xavier," I whispered, clutching my chest as I stumbled into the shadows. "Just hold on. I'm coming."

I began to walk, my bare feet bleeding on the asphalt, my heart fueled by the only thing I had left: the desperate hope that the man I loved was waiting to save me.