Chapter 7

Anastasia's POV

"I'm leaving Los Angeles," I tell Felicity one evening as we sit in her living room. "I need a fresh start. Somewhere far away from Liam and Marian and my parents. Somewhere I can rebuild."

"Where will you go?" She asks, though I can see she already knew this was coming.

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe New York. Maybe somewhere overseas. I just... I can't stay here."

Felicity nods slowly, tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too." I squeeze her hand. "But I need to do this. For me. For my baby."

The next morning, I start making arrangements. I drain what little remains in my personal account— money Liam apparently didn't know about. It's not much, but it's enough to get me started somewhere new.

I'm at Felicity's laptop, researching apartments in New York when my phone rings. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something makes me pick up.

"Is this Anastasia Campbell?" A woman's voice asks.

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Detective Sarah Martinez with the LAPD. Ms. Campbell, I need you to come down to the station. There's been an incident involving you."

My blood runs cold. "What kind of incident?"

"I'd rather discuss this in person. Can you come in today?"

"I... yes. I'll be there in an hour."

I hang up, my hands shaking. Felicity looks at me with alarm.

"What is it?"

"The police want to see me." My voice sounds distant to my own ears. "Something about an incident."

"I'm coming with you," she says immediately, grabbing her keys.

The police station is cold and sterile, the fluorescent lights making everything look harsh and unforgiving. Detective Martinez is a middle-aged woman with kind eyes that don't match the gravity of her expression.

"Ms. Campbell, thank you for coming in." She gestures to a chair. "Please, sit down."

I sink into the chair, Felicity standing protectively beside me. "What's this about, Detective?"

"Two weeks ago, there was a hit and run accident. A young woman named Isabella Grayson was struck by a vehicle and killed on the night. We have a witness who identified your car at the scene."

The world stops spinning. "What? No, that's impossible. I haven't driven my car in weeks. I don't even have it anymore— my ex-husband took it in the divorce."

Detective Martinez's expression doesn't change. "Your ex-husband reported the car stolen two weeks ago. The vehicle was found abandoned near the scene of the accident. Ms. Campbell, I need to ask— where were you the night of the 4th of the month?"

My eyes widen in horror. On the 4th?

It was the same night I was drugged. The same night Liam and Marian had set me up.

I can't speak. My throat feels tight. What am I supposed to say? That I was in a hotel? A married woman in a hotel and got divorced the next day?

That's too suspicious!

"Say something, Ana!" Felicity whispers to me, her tone filled with desperation.

When I do not talk, she turns towards the detective. "Ana's been living with me for almost three weeks now. She hasn't left except for doctor's appointments."

"Can anyone else corroborate that?" The detective asks.

My heart sinks. "No. It was just us."

"Ms. Campbell, I'm going to need you to come with me. You're being arrested on suspicion of vehicular manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident."

"No!" Felicity cries out as two officers step forward. "This is insane! She didn't do anything!"

"I didn't do this," I say, my voice breaking as they read me my rights. "I swear, I didn't do this. It's Liam and Marian, they're framing me!"

But even as I say the words, I know how they sound. Desperate. Paranoid. Exactly like someone trying to deflect blame.

As they lead me away in handcuffs, I catch Felicity's tear-stained face.

"Call a lawyer!" I shout to her. "Please, call anyone who can help!"

But deep down, I know the truth. I have no money for a good lawyer. No family to help me. No evidence to prove my innocence.

And now, I'm going to prison. Pregnant. Alone. Completely and utterly destroyed.

As the cell door clangs shut behind me, I sink onto the hard bench and wrap my arms around my still-flat stomach.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper to the life growing inside me. "I'm so sorry I brought you into this nightmare."

But even in my darkest moment, a small flame of determination sparks to life in my chest. This isn't over. Somehow, some way, I will prove my innocence. I will survive this.

And one day, I will make them all pay for what they've done to me.