Chapter 6

The ride to the precinct was suffocating. Sophie sat wedged between two officers in the back of the patrol car, her wrists cold against the steel cuffs. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, neon streaks bleeding into the night. Every honk, every siren, every vibration of the engine felt amplified, echoing inside her chest.

Her clutch was gone, confiscated. But she could still feel the phantom buzz against her palm, as if LJV’s messages had burrowed into her skin. Xavi… anak ko… please be safe.

Outside, Jace’s black sedan followed close behind, headlights burning like a predator’s eyes. She could almost feel his fury radiating through the glass.

The police station was a different kind of prison. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a sickly pallor.

The air smelled of ink, sweat, and stale coffee. Metal chairs scraped against linoleum floors, their shrill sound cutting through the silence.

Sophie was led down a narrow corridor, walls lined with bulletin boards cluttered with mugshots and wanted posters. The officers’ boots clicked against the tiles, rhythmic, merciless.

They ushered her into a small interrogation room. One table. Two chairs. A single camera mounted in the corner, its red light blinking.

The walls were bare, suffocating.

She sat, her hands trembling against the cold steel surface.

The lead officer placed a folder on the table. He opened it slowly, deliberately, revealing photographs—grainy, blurred, but damning. Sophie’s apartment. Her front door. A shadow slipping inside.

“Ms. Rodriguez,” he began, voice clipped, “we have evidence linking you to the disappearance of several items from Mr. Velez’s estate. Jewelry. Documents. Personal effects. How do you explain this?”

Sophie’s throat tightened. “I didn’t… I didn’t take anything.”

The officer leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “Then why do we have surveillance footage of someone entering your apartment at odd hours? Someone carrying bags?”

Her breath caught. LJV. He planted this. He’s framing me.

Her mind spun. Kung makulong ako… sino ang mag-aalaga kay Xavi?

She imagined him alone in his room, clutching the wooden horse, whispering her name. She imagined strangers dragging him away, his cries echoing.

Her nails dug into her palms. Hindi ako pwedeng bumigay. Hindi ako pwedeng maging mahina.

But the walls pressed closer. The camera’s red light blinked, recording every twitch, every tear.

Suddenly, the officer’s phone buzzed. He frowned, checked it, then slid it across the table.

On the screen was a photo. Xavi, asleep in his bed. A gloved hand hovering inches from his face.

Sophie’s scream tore through the room. “No! Don’t touch him!”

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Who sent this?”

Sophie’s lips trembled. LJV. He’s here. He’s everywhere.

The distorted voice echoed in her mind: “Every second you resist, Sophie, I remind him who owns you. Who owns your son.”

Meanwhile, Jace stormed through the precinct lobby, his presence a storm.

Officers scrambled, papers flew, phones rang. His voice was thunder. “You have no right to hold her. No evidence. Release her now.”

Zion trailed behind, pale, sweating. “Kuya, please… don’t make this worse. The press is already outside. If you fight them, it will destroy us.”

Back in the interrogation room, Sophie’s tears blurred her vision. The officer pressed harder. “Ms. Rodriguez, if you don’t cooperate, we’ll have no choice but to charge you formally.”

Her voice cracked. “I didn’t do it. Please… you have to believe me.”

The officer tapped the folder. “Then explain this evidence. Explain the photos. Explain the messages.”

Her heart pounded. Kung magsalita ako… baka mas lalo siyang magalit. Kung manahimik ako… baka mawala si Xavi.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

Choose quickly, Sophie. Confess… or watch your son disappear.

Jace’s glare was lethal. “I don’t care about the press. I care about Sophie. And my son.”

Her knees weakened. The fluorescent lights hummed louder, oppressive.

The officer leaned closer, his pen poised. Jace’s voice thundered outside, clashing with Zion’s pleas.

Sophie’s mind screamed. Whichever choice I make… someone I love will pay the price.

The camera’s red light blinked, recording her every breath. The officer’s pen hovered above the charge sheet.

And Sophie realized: the interrogation was no longer about truth. It was about survival.