His voice was laced with impatience, as if I were a nuisance. "The evidence and witness testimonies are all against you. Have you lost your mind? Call off the report immediately! I can't marry a woman with a criminal record—"
I didn't even look at him.
"Okay," I said flatly.
For the first time, Jonah hesitated. Perhaps he expected me to fight back, to plead. But I didn't.
Satisfied, he left without a single word of concern.
The day of my discharge, I went home to pack my things—only to find the entrance decorated for the wedding, the one that should have been mine. And the door had a new passcode.
I hired a locksmith to break in, gathered my belongings and left. After all, I had a wedding to attend.
As my plane landed, my phone buzzed with a call from my lawyer. There were new developments in the case.
I glanced at the damning evidence in my hands, my lips curling into a cold smile.
I sent Jonah a message. [Congratulations on your wedding.]
Jonah, standing at the entrance of the venue, glanced at his phone. His expression darkened as he turned to Zane.
"Make sure to guard all exits," he ordered. "Arabelle must not be allowed to cause trouble."