Chapter 110
“Are you saying my wife is getting dragged away because someone called the cops?” Clyde stepped forward, ready to confront Freya, but I held him back.
A police call, especially a serious one like that, meant an investigation was inevitable.
“Get a lawyer.” I looked from Clyde to Jade, “You take the lead on the Design Department meeting.”
“Freya, we should head out,” I said.
Freya’s presence at the office was a clear sign of trouble. She wouldn’t be there otherwise.
Freya nodded at me, and I followed the officers, wondering what proof I could muster to show my innocence. But no sooner had we stepped outside than a swarm of reporters descended upon us.
“Mrs. Patterson, is it true that you orchestrated your love rival’s miscarriage?”
“Did you act first to secure your inheritance against the unborn child?”
“Are you guilty of premeditated murder? Any regrets?”
The officers tried to shield me, but the reporters were relentless. Someone yanked off my wig in the chaos, leaving me bald once again.
Freya quickly shielded me and hurried me into the car. When we reached the station, my wig was long gone. Rubbing my bald head, I felt oddly at peace with it.
“Ms. Crawford, we’re aware of the situation, but we appreciate your cooperation,” Freya poured me a cup of hot coffee. “Should we have someone bring you a wig?”
I shook my head. There was no point in hiding anymore.
“My skin’s been glowing lately. Maybe bald is in,” I joked.
During the questioning, they reviewed some footage.
Freya sighed. “How could you have pushed her from thirty feet away? What does she think you are, a superwoman?”
Her partner cleared her throat loudly, a reminder of the professionalism expected in their line of work.
I understood that Freya had crossed a line, but her point was undeniably clear.
Looking at the other officer, I clarified, “She was bleeding before I reached her. I was the first to call for an ambulance. Her miscarriage has nothing to do with me.”
“In family disputes, the truth can be murky, but we won’t wrong an innocent person when the evidence is clear,” the officer assured me.
Just then, wailing filled the entrance of the station. Upon hearing that familiar voice, my
1/2
00.31
headache intensified.
“Because she’s Mrs. Patterson, she gets to kill my baby? Is there no justice? I may be the other woman, but my baby was innocent!”
I was only there to cooperate and could leave with the questioning over. But seeing Kayla at
the door, I was frightened.
The officers had to help Kayla enter. Kayla tried to lunge at me, but Freya and another female officer blocked her.
Kayla yelled, “Why aren’t you arresting her? Are you all in this together? Crooked dealings! Just because she’s Mrs. Patterson, did my baby deserve to die for nothing?”
“Melanie didn’t even touch you. How could she have pushed you? How could she have killed your baby?” Freya faced Kayla with fury, “Do you understand the consequences of filing a false report?”
Kayla seemed intimidated, not daring to respond, but looked at me timidly. I kept my expression neutral, curious to see her next move.
The police investigation had surprisingly gone smoothly, and with no connection between the miscarriage and me, I was free to leave.
Kayla followed suit. Her mourning facade fell away as she passed me, and she smiled subtly “Melanie, if I can’t be Mrs. Patterson, neither can you. We’ll both go to hell together!”