The moment the group arrived at the police station, they stormed in like a hurricane of emotions, hearts pounding, adrenaline surging. Anxiety painted everyone's face as they were quickly directed down a tiled corridor buzzing with murmurs and fluorescent lights.
At the far end, Frances sat on a metal bench, filling out paperwork with the calmness of a bored cashier. Her cheek was swollen and bruised, the purple hue climbing toward her eye. Yet, her body language screamed defiance, her legs crossed, her hand lazily picking at her ear like Channing's furious rants were nothing more than background static.
"I don't give a fuck if she is underage! I'm charging her! I'm definitely pressing charges. She will go to jail!" Channing barked at the officers, flailing one good arm as he staggered.
Frances tilted her head toward him slowly, a wicked smile dancing at the corner of her lips, completely unbothered. Her silence taunted him more than any insult.
"Frances!" Evie's voice pierced through the air. He dashed toward her and embraced her tightly, trembling. "Oh my goodness, you were beaten up?" His hands gently cupped Frances' injured face, eyes watering until he looked up.
Evie froze.
Channing stood like a broken scarecrow, one eye swollen shut, dried blood crusted over his lips, his once-white t-shirt stained scarlet. His arm sat stiffly in a sling, the gauze peeking beneath his sleeves suggested more than one break.
"Isn't he supposed to be in the hospital in this kind of situation?" Coco asked cautiously, pointing at Channing with a half-nervous smile.
"He wanted to press charges so we came to the police station instead."
"You went to the hospital before coming here?" Cora asked, her mouth slightly ajar.
"Sure! I beat him up and called the ambulance to come and carry him. You see, this is why people don't help people. I planned to beat him up and pay for his medical bills, but he brought me to the police station instead," Frances said with a wide grin, her voice chipper.
Evie blinked. "You what?"
"Am I supposed to be grateful for that? You broke my arm! I'm pressing charges! I'm not letting you go!" Channing's voice cracked from the strain, fury bubbling over.
"Don't kill yourself, Channing, you'll die faster if you keep shouting that way," Frances quipped, tilting her head mockingly.
In a blur, Channing lurched forward and grabbed Frances by the jacket.
"Don't you dare touch her, you bastard!" Evie growled, shoving him back fiercely.
"You sent your friend to beat me up, right? I'm gonna show you two that you're just kids and nothing more!" he hissed.
Frances slowly turned to the officer. "Who is your guardian, Frances Holland? Please call him," the officer said, flipping through forms.
"My ancestor wouldn't fly down here to bail me out," she said with a shrug.
"Your ancestor?" he echoed, brow furrowing.
"The lawyer would come."
"I'm here already, Miss Holland." A rich baritone voice silenced the air like thunder.
A man stepped forward through the crowd, his tailored coat brushing against his knees, briefcase in hand. He patted Frances on the back gently and extended his hand toward the officer.
"I am Jasper Fox. I'm Miss Holland's lawyer."
"Nice meeting you, sir."
"Can we talk for a minute?"
"Sure," the officer nodded and led Jasper into a private room.
As the tension simmered, Evie leaned in close. "I thought my mum was here? How did she know that you were here?"
"I called her earlier to call your family lawyer. I called mine too, but he got here faster than your family's lawyer," Frances said coolly.
"The family lawyer? Didn't you just need a bail out? We can bail you out!"
"What bailout? I'm charging her for assault! She's going to jail!" Channing barked again.
Morgan's fists clenched, jaw tightening. He lunged, but Abby caught him, arms tense.
"We are inside a station. Don't go too far," Abby said calmly, holding him back. Morgan grunted and stepped away, his glare fixed on Channing.
"What's the situation, Frances? You involved the lawyers in this?" Coco asked, eyes darting nervously.
"You'll find out the situation in a moment… also, whoever that will be going to jail," Frances replied, her voice low, dangerous, eyes glinting like a blade. She cast a slow, scathing glance at Channing.
Just then, the officer and Jasper returned. The officer held a clipboard and gestured toward another uniformed man who approached Channing.
Before Channing could react, the handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
"Officer! What are you doing?" Channing panicked.
The officer stepped forward with authority, clipboard in hand.
"Alright. Here are the charges being filed against you as of this moment." His voice was calm, but carried the weight of a judge's gavel.
He cleared his throat and began:
"Count one: Statutory Rape, engaging in sexual activity with a minor under the age of consent. The victim is sixteen. That's a felony."
Gasps echoed. Evie covered his mouth in horror.
"Count two: Child Enticement, you used manipulation to groom the minor into a sexual relationship. This falls under federal jurisdiction. Carries a mandatory minimum of ten years."
Channing's mouth dropped open.
"Count three: Theft by Deception, you obtained two hundred thousand dollars from the victim through false pretenses. That's Grand Larceny. Class C felony."
Lawrence muttered under his breath, "Two hundred K? What the hell…"
"Count four: Aggravated Assault, you physically assaulted two individuals connected to the case. One needed medical treatment. Another felony."
The officer lowered the clipboard and stared at Channing coldly.
"You're looking at serious time. Multiple felonies. You'll be processed, and then held until your arraignment. Legal counsel's been notified. Sit tight."
"Officer, how can you do this?! I'm the one who got beaten up!" Channing shouted desperately.
"You beat up a minor, and it was added to your charges," the officer snapped. Everyone turned slowly to look at Frances, stunned.
Cora raised her eyebrows and gave Frances a thumb-up.
Frances winked at her slyly.
"Miss Holland has been granted a bail. You can go back home now," the officer said, handing a file to Jasper, who signed it quickly.
Frances rose with exaggerated grace, her every movement calculated.
She leaned close to Channing, her voice low and even.
"I told you I'm a menace. You shouldn't encounter me twice. Now see who is going to jail... Channing." She patted his back, mockingly, like an owner petting a disobedient dog and turned on her heels as her friends followed behind her.
Outside, the fading golden sun kissed the asphalt. Frances stood under its glow, speaking briefly with Jasper before dashing toward her friends.
"How is it? Did I do well?" she beamed.
"I can't believe you beat up Channing that way and now he is going to jail?" Evie whispered, stunned.
"Several years in jail, darling. He will get his ass fucked up in there, I swear."
"Frances is so good, I can't believe it!" Coco gushed.
"Evie's money will also be refunded to him if Channing doesn't wanna stay longer than usual."
"Oh my, you got justice for me. I love you so much, Frances!" Evie shrieked dramatically, wrapping her in a hug.
Frances wriggled away. "If you weren't so stupid in the first place, how could I have been beaten up this way?"
"I'm so sorry, sweetie! It's all my fault. I will pay for your nose surgery."
"I don't need no fake nose, just go away! I will deal with you in school tomorrow. Let me go and relax at home, I'm tired."
"Sorry Frances, you are so kind! I love you so much! Muah muah!" Evie puckered his lips dramatically, and Frances swatted him away and hopped into her car, which revved and sped into the sunset.
"Frances is one formidable force," Abby said, shaking his head.
"Right, Abby! I know Frances is crazy, but I can't believe that she was this crazy. She really went to meet Channing all alone without fear and beat him up to a pulp, he is a grown man!" Cora screamed.
"She even broke his arm and called the ambulance," Lawrence said, and they all burst into shocked laughter.
"That was the highlight of the day. She called the ambulance? I can't believe it. Now Channing is going to jail. He will be registered as a permanent sex offender."
"That's some crazy shit! Don't ever offend Frances in your life," Morgan warned, pointing.
"Don't point at me! I can't mess with Frances either," Cora said, slapping his hand away.
"We should go home now, it's getting late," Abby said, gently tugging Coco's hand.
They all exchanged quick goodbyes and dispersed, their silhouettes blending with the fiery sky as the sun finally sank
Frances alighted from the car, the low hum of the engine fading behind her as the vehicle rolled away. She pushed open the heavy front door, stepping into the vast, silent expanse of her home. The foyer echoed faintly with her footsteps. Without pausing, she kicked off her shoes mid-step, one landing against the marble wall with a thud.
She glanced around briefly, no sign of the housekeeper. The quiet confirmed it. They've already left… She sniffed, not from emotion, but to shake off the lingering chill that clung to her skin. Her dog's bark echoed from a distance, sharp and repetitive.
But she didn't respond.
Instead, Frances climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. Her injured face ached faintly with every twitch. She went straight to the bathroom, flicking on the lights. The brightness hit her like a slap, revealing every bruise in the mirror. The corner of her lip was split. Her eye was puffy. Still breathing, she thought.
She washed up thoroughly, face, arms, legs, letting the hot water sting her wounds. She wrapped herself in a light pink robe, her hair damp and clinging to her neck. Padding barefoot across the smooth glass flooring of her bedroom, she paused in front of the full-length windows.
The stars blinked back at her.
Frances stood there for long, her reflection ghostly beside the night sky. Her shoulders drooped slightly, and she let out a sigh so deep it fogged the glass in front of her.
She moved on Downstairs.
She boiled water, tore open a pack of instant noodles, and stirred it slowly, watching the steam rise. The kitchen, usually pristine and untouched, smelled faintly of salt and spice now.
She slumped at the counter, eating in silence. The only sound was her chewing and the occasional soft bark from her dog. Her gaze drifted around the living room.
Beautiful. Radiant. Rich. And empty.
She could name every designer in the room, every imported fabric and custom furniture piece. But they meant nothing tonight.
Not when it feels like I'm the only thing that's breathing here.
The noodles were hot, and she ate them too fast, desperate to fill something inside her. She gulped water between bites, then choked. Her eyes widened, and she slammed her fist into her chest once, twice trying to breathe. Her throat burned.
Tears sprang to her eyes, not just from choking. They came like a storm, all at once.
Frances started crying, mouth full, tears running down her cheeks, soaking the corners of her robe. But she didn't stop eating. She couldn't.
Her dog trotted closer, ears perked, tail tucked as it watched her from the doorway. The sharp bark stopped. Even the animal could feel it.
The way her shoulders trembled. The way she sobbed without sound.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"
she whispered between ragged breaths.
There was no answer. Just the hollow echo of the question bouncing around the walls.
Morning came too fast.
The sky barely lit up behind the curtains when Frances sat up, her eyes bloodshot, her body stiff and sore. Her head pounded as if it carried every punch from yesterday again. She groaned and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
In the mirror, her bruises were still visible but they looked slightly better. She dabbed at them with cold compresses and applied ointment in practiced motions, no longer flinching.
By the time she stepped out of her room, she had morphed into someone else.
Uniform crisp Her Hair brushed into place and her Demeanor was calm.
Downstairs, the house had come alive again.
The housekeeper stood by the counter, flanked by two maids wiping down the kitchen island and fluffing cushions.
"Good morning, Miss,"
the housekeeper greeted with a sweet smile.
Frances didn't even glance back. She smirked faintly.
"Prepare some steak for dinner!"
she called, striding toward the door without slowing down.
"Alright, Miss!"
the housekeeper responded cheerfully, waving as the front door shut behind her.
The maids exchanged knowing looks.
"Our little boss got into a fight again,"
one of them muttered with a click of her tongue.
"She definitely did. Is there a time that she doesn't get into a fight?"
the other replied, shaking her head as they returned to cleaning.
"True."
A quiet, sympathetic sigh followed.
The sunlight poured into the house now but it still felt like the warmth hadn't reached its center.