All Chapters of Never Meant to be Seen : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The wind hit us hard the moment we stepped onto the rooftop, pulling at my clothes and whipping Ava's hair across her face. Arlo's father stood dangerously close to the edge with one arm locked around Ava's waist, while she struggled to keep her balance against him. Below us, police vehicles surrounded the building, their lights flashing across the streets, but none of them could move quickly enough without risking Ava's life. “Step away from the edge,” one of the officers shouted from the rooftop entrance. Arlo's father laughed bitterly. “Another step and she goes.” The officers immediately stopped. I looked at Ava. She was frightened, but she was still fighting him. “Don't move,” I told her. Her eyes met mine. “I won't.” Arlo's father tightened his grip. “You're very calm.” “I'm trying to keep you calm.” “You think talking will change anything?” “Yes.” He gave me a cold smile. “You have no idea what you're dealing with.” “I know exactly what I'm dealing with.” I ke

The blade flashed between us, and for one terrible second, I couldn't tell whether Arlo's father was aiming for my chest or my shoulder. I stepped backwards instinctively, but the rooftop beneath my shoes suddenly felt much smaller than it had a moment ago. Arlo shouted my name and moved before anyone else could reach us. “Sofia!” His father was already almost on top of me. Arlo slammed into him from the side. The impact sent all three of us stumbling. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, while Arlo and his father crashed against the metal railing near the edge. The knife flew from his father's hand and skidded across the rooftop, spinning once before stopping several feet away. Someone shouted, and then several voices erupted at once as the officers rushed forward. “Get down!” “Move away from the edge!” “Arlo!” I pushed myself upright. My eyes immediately searched for Arlo. He was struggling with his father near the railing. His father grabbed t

The Alfie case was officially closed three weeks after Arlo's father died. There were no more secret meetings, no hidden instructions, and no powerful family member waiting to interfere with the investigation. The authorities had enough evidence to dismantle the operation, freeze the remaining assets, seize the shipping companies, and connect decades of illegal activity to the people who had controlled it. But none of that meant my own case had disappeared. I was still facing charges. Fraud. Identity theft. Forgery. The list looked different when it was printed on paper. It was easy to forget what I had done when I was surrounded by people who had done much worse. But every time I looked at the charges, I remembered that I had still agreed to become Isabelle Ashworth. I had taken the money. I had worn her name. I had signed documents as her. I had walked into rooms knowing everyone believed I was someone else. Even though I hadn't known about the smuggling operation, I cou

The judge's chambers were nothing like the courtroom. There were no rows of people watching me, no journalists waiting for a reaction, and no lawyers standing between my words and the person deciding what happened to me. There was only a large wooden desk, two chairs, a bookshelf filled with legal volumes, and the woman who could determine whether I walked out of the courthouse free. The judge motioned towards the chair opposite her. “Sit.” I did. She closed the door herself. The click sounded louder than it should have. For the first time in months, I was completely alone with someone who had the power to judge me. My lawyer wasn't beside me. Arlo wasn't behind me. There was no Mia. No Isabelle. No Ava. No one who could speak for me. Just me. The judge sat across from me and opened the folder containing my case. She didn't speak immediately. I waited. Finally, she looked up. “Are you comfortable?” I almost laughed. “No.” She nodded. “I expected that.” Her expre

The week after the hearing moved more slowly than any week I had ever lived through. Every morning, I woke up expecting a phone call from my lawyer, and every night, I went to bed wondering whether the judge had already made her decision. There was nothing left for me to investigate, no secret document to find, and no dangerous person waiting around the corner, yet waiting somehow felt worse than all of it. Arlo tried to keep me distracted. He took me out for breakfast. He made terrible coffee. He insisted I watch movies with him. I complained about his taste. He ignored me. For the first time in months, we were doing things that had nothing to do with survival. No police. No courtrooms. No hidden files. No family secrets. Just us. But even when I laughed, part of my mind was counting the days. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. By Thursday, I had checked my phone so many times that Arlo finally took it from me. “You're not getting this back.” I stared at him. “Give it to