Rose heard the sirens long before they turned onto her street. The piercing sound clawed through the still evening, echoing off the cracked walls of her kitchen. Yet, she did not flinch.
She sat at the counter, hands wrapped around a warm cup, the steam curling lazily into the air.
The knocking started sharply, impatiently.
She remained still.
They called her name.
She did not move.
She would not give them the satisfaction of her fear, the spectacle of her surrender. If they wanted her so badly, they could break down the door themselves.
Minutes stretched into eternity, twenty, maybe more, before the door finally gave way, splintering under brute force.
The officers stormed in, expecting chaos, resistance, anything but the sight before them.
There she was, seated, expression calm, sipping from her cup as if they were mere inconveniences rather than the force that would drag her into her downfall.
The sight infuriated them.
No pleas, no fight, no fear.
With rough hands, they hauled her up, twisting her arms behind her back.
Still, she did not react.
Expressionless, detached, she walked toward the waiting van, her fate sealed.
Robert couldn't think, couldn't breathe, his mind was a storm, raging with thoughts of self-preservation. He had lost control at work, unable to sit still, unable to string together coherent ideas.
So he drove.
Unconsciously, his hands had guided him toward a familiar place, Rose's home. How many times had he come here under the cover of night, indulging in stolen pleasures? The memories clawed at him, but now they felt distant, unreal.
Then, his gaze shifted.
A van. Police officers.
The doors of her home flung open, exposing the hollow space within, empty, abandoned, and forsaken.
She had no one to defend her. No one to plead her case.
For a fleeting moment, pity stirred within him. Then, like a candle snuffed out, it was gone.
His survival mattered more.
And just like that, an idea struck him. A brilliant idea.
If Rose couldn't plead her case, what if no one believed her at all? What if, instead of a cunning secretary, she was labeled something else, something unpredictable, something unstable?
He could make the world believe she was insane.
The plan unraveled effortlessly in his mind. He would make an anonymous call, pose as a distant relative, and tell the police that Rose suffered from bipolar disorder, that she often forgot to take her medication. Whatever she claimed in her defense would be mere fragments of a delusional mind.
And if she tried to expose him?
He would weave an even thicker lie, he would tell them she was an addict, that her mind was plagued with fabrications, that nothing she said held weight.
Robert's lips curled into a smile, his pulse steadying.
But there was one final step.
He checked the environment no one watching. He pushed open the door to Rose's home, moving swiftly through her space.
He reached her cabinet first, placing bottles of prescription drugs inside, the same ones that had gripped his addiction for years.
Then, he moved to the tea she had left behind methodically, wickedly, and he laced it with more pills, turning the scene into the picture of a woman lost in madness.
By the time he was done, the lie was no longer just a thought.
It was reality.
And all he had to do now was let it unfold.
Robert had never felt lighter, never felt more free. As he drove home, a rare sense of exhilaration flooded his veins. The fear, the anxiety, the looming weight of exposure it was all gone. His plan was foolproof. He had saved himself.
And now, he could return to his life.
When he pulled into the driveway, he spotted his wife, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over her as she watered the garden. Something in him softened. Relief settled deep in his bones.
For the first time in a long time, he felt something.
Without hesitation, he strode toward her, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace that caught her off guard. A surprised laugh escaped her lips, but she melted into him, as if remembering a long-lost version of the man she had married.
He didn't stop there.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside, straight to their bedroom.
His touch was urgent, unrestrained, possessive in a way that stunned her. He kissed every inch of her, sucked on her neck so deeply it turned purple, she was moaning loudly, He proceeded to spreading her legs and sucking the core of her woman, she gasped when he drove himself inside her.
She stared at him, breathless, memorizing every kiss, every whispered plea against her skin.
Because she couldn't recall the last time he had looked at her this way. Touched her this way.
And neither could he.
For once, no shadows were lurking in the corners of his mind, just the illusion of normalcy.
And for now, that was enough.
Anna's heart drummed steadily against her ribs as she watched the screen, the news anchor's voice crisp and unforgiving. Rose Baker, once a name synonymous with efficiency and trust, is now reduced to nothing more than a cautionary tale. Fraud. Forgery. Tampering with company data. If convicted, six years behind bars.
Relief settled deep within Anna's chest, but it was tangled with something else. Vindication, certainly, but also pity. The image of Rose in handcuffs should have fueled her sense of justice, but instead, it gnawed at her.
She barely had time to process the thought before the phone rang again. Kelvin Wolfe.
Her mother, Maria, lifted an eyebrow, silently urging her to pick up. Anna hesitated. He had been relentless. Apologizing. Offering distractions vacations, shopping, dinner. As if material things could mend what had been broken.
She pressed the phone to her ear, his voice flooding through baritone, urgent, unrestrained.
Anna, please, he breathed. Just talk to me, I'm sorry, please!!
She said nothing.
I messed up, he continued, desperation slipping through his tone. I know that. But I'm not letting this go. I'm coming over, and I won't leave until you hear me out.
Anna closed her eyes. This was the Kelvin she knew, persistent, unwavering. And no matter how much she wanted to shut the door on him forever, a part of her couldn't deny the pull.
A part of her wasn't sure she wanted him to stop trying.
Kelvin stood outside Anna's house, the weight of everything he had done pressing down on him. The groceries, chocolates, and flowers were all carefully chosen, yet he knew they weren't enough to undo the past. But still, he hoped.
Maria greeted him warmly, her eyes flickering with approval at the thoughtfulness behind his gifts. She had always been quietly rooting for him, even when Anna had shut him out.
Inside, Anna lay on the couch, flipping mindlessly through channels. The remote clicked softly in her hand, her expression unreadable. She didn't glance up when Kelvin entered, didn't acknowledge his presence. He hesitated, watching her, waiting.
Then, the music started.
The saxophonist and his crew had arrived outside, filling the air with soulful melodies. The smooth notes curled through the evening breeze, wrapping around the house like a whispered plea. It was loud enough to demand attention but tender enough to soften defenses.
Anna startled, her head snapping toward the window. She moved quickly, stepping outside, her curiosity outweighing her indifference.
Her name floated through the air, woven into the lyrics of every song. Flowers fluttered in the sky like confetti, drifting down in a shower of bright colors. The musicians smiled, their energy electric, their voices carrying warmth that seeped into her guarded heart.
She turned, eyes wide, and there he was.
Kelvin, on his knees, holding a bouquet, tears brimming in his eyes.
I'm so sorry, he whispered, voice trembling. I should have fought for you sooner. I should have never, never doubted you. It would never happen again.
Anna's breath caught in her throat. She had spent so long holding onto her anger, convincing herself that forgiveness was impossible. But standing there, seeing the rawness in his face, she realized something she wasn't tired of him trying.
She reached down, pulling him to his feet, wrapping her arms tightly around him. His body shook against hers, emotion pouring from both of them as they clung to the moment.
And as they cried into each other's necks, Maria wiped away a tear of her own, knowing that sometimes, love deserved another chance.
They broke off and kissed passionately.
The anonymous tip had alleged that Rose Baker was an acute addict. However, multiple drug tests came back clean no substances in her system. It was a puzzling contradiction, one that left the police uneasy.
Determined to investigate further, they searched her home. Inside her drug cabinet, they discovered multiple bottles of carcinogenic and Percocet, medications known for their potency and potential for abuse. But something else was even more perplexing the cup Rose had been drinking from on the day of her arrest contained traces of pills, yet her system remained completely clean.
Had she consumed the drugs and somehow avoided detection? Or had someone tampered with her drink before she could take a sip? The inconsistencies raised questions, ones the police knew they had to untangle quickly.
Meanwhile, in her cell, Rose Baker was unraveling.
Her manic behavior sent echoes through the holding facility. She paced in frantic circles, her breath hitching with every muttered word before her voice crescendoed into full-blown screams.
Kelvin Wolfe is mine!! she howled. He's my man, and nothing will take that away from me! No one!
The officers exchanged uneasy glances. Some had seen desperation before, but this was something darker: delusion, obsession, a mind teetering on the brink.
One officer sighed, shaking his head. Poor woman.
Another watched in silence, sympathy flickering beneath his hardened gaze. Whatever happened to her… it broke her.
As Rose continued her maddened claims, the weight of the mystery grew heavier.
Robert had changed. Completely.
Lucy watched in awe as he arrived home early, set the dinner table, kissed her forehead with tenderness that felt new, yet familiar. He helped Joshua with his homework, laughing easily, guiding him through equations as though he had always been present in this way.
Lucy could barely contain her joy. Had her prayers finally worked? Was this the answer she had waited so long for?
As they sat down for dinner, Robert reached beneath the table, fingers tracing over Lucy's thigh, his touch lingering. Heat rose in her cheeks, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering like they had when she was sixteen. At forty, she had assumed such feelings belonged to the past, but tonight, she felt young again. Wanted.
After dinner, he joined her in washing the dishes, rinsing off suds with careful attention, as though the simple act meant something deeper. He tucked their children into bed, read them a story his voice steady, comforting.
And then he carried Lucy straight to their bedroom.
He followed her into the bathroom, hands working through her damp hair, fingers gently massaging her scalp. Your hair, he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. It was the first thing I noticed about you. That golden color, like sunlight.
Lucy melted under his words, under his touch, under the man she had always loved, but had never seen quite like this before.
He made love to her so passionately, like a man starving, that she felt sore.
Anna's heart swelled with happiness as she soaked in the breathtaking beauty of Greece the endless blue waters stretching beyond the horizon, the charm of cobblestone streets lined with whitewashed houses, the warmth of the Mediterranean sun embracing her skin.
Kelvin had been the perfect companion, filling their days with laughter, storytelling, and little surprises. She never realized he had such a knack for comedy, but every joke sent her into fits of laughter, making the moments even more unforgettable.
For seven nights, they indulged in the luxuries of an exquisite suite, waking to the soft lull of the sea outside their window, dining on the finest delicacies, and losing themselves in the magic of a place that felt like it had been crafted just for them. Those were, without a doubt, the best days of her life.
But as the trip came to an end and the city called them back to reality, Anna found herself holding onto the warmth of those days, reluctant to let go. She looked at Kelvin with wide, pleading eyes, making a request from the depths of her heart, she wanted Rose Baker to be freed.
Kelvin hesitated, but the way Anna looked at him radiant, glowing, more beautiful than ever made it impossible for him to refuse. She had changed in the days they spent together, her happiness evident in the way she carried herself. And if freeing Rose would bring her even more joy, he would do it.
The decision was made. Anna's face lit up with excitement, her happiness spilling into the air around her. And as Kelvin watched her, he felt a quiet sense of fulfillment.
She was thriving. And he was the reason why.