“We’ll drop it,” Toby mutters finally.
Yes!
“Good choice,” Tessa concludes, already tapping on her tablet. “I’ll send the confirmation to you, Chief.”
The chief nods and disappears behind the hallway door again.
I pull Tessa into a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to hold in my tears.
She hugs me back, even tighter. “You’re welcome. What are sisters for?”
She’s right—what are sisters for if not being there for each other during the good and the bad?
“They’ll release Cole in a few minutes. Are you going to wait for him?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it. See you at home.”
“Thanks again.”
She winks and blows me a kiss. “Always.”
The moment she’s gone, Calista mutters something under her breath. I don’t catch it, but the tone is unmistakable. I turn my head sharply. “Do you have something to say?”
She stands abruptly, chin lifting like she’s about to enter a pageant. “Just that you’re all insane if you think he deserved that contract.”
I smile. “Funny. Because the actual decision-makers disagreed.”
Her jaw clenches, and this time she looks ready to fight me. Please do—give me an excuse to slap the bitchiness out of you. I might be 5‘2“, but I grew up with four older brothers. I can hold my own in a fight.
I tilt my head. “Do you know the difference between you and me?”
Toby scoffs. “What, money?”
“No,” I assert smoothly. “Influence.”
He frowns.
“People trust me,” I continue. “They respect me. They know my intentions and my character. And the more noise you make trying to tear people down, the more obvious it becomes that you have none of those things.”
Calista’s face twists.
I gesture at the door. “Run along now. You’ve embarrassed yourselves enough.”
They leave, stiff and silent.
I exhale and lean against the wall, letting myself breathe for the first time since this nightmare began. My palms are still shaking, heart is still racing, but something inside me settles.
Cole didn’t throw that punch because he lost control. He threw it because they dragged my name into it. Because they humiliated me in front of strangers and tried to stain my character in a way he couldn’t stomach.
I should be furious, disappointed, and lecturing him in my head. But all I feel is a heavy ache, the kind that comes when someone defends you, even when you’re not sure you deserve it.
Footsteps echo down the hall, followed by the buzzing of a door. Then Cole steps out from the back, flanked by an officer who gestures toward the exit. “You’re free to go.”
Cole’s eyes find me immediately. He looks exhausted—his shirt is wrinkled, jaw shadowed, eyes darker than usual—not angry or defeated, just worn down in a way that makes something in my chest twist painfully. He’s only been there two hours, but he looks like he might as well have been in there for two days.
I walk toward him, chin up. “You,” I say, pointing a finger at him the moment he stops in front of me, “are an idiot.”
