Chapter 10 - The Precinct Waiting Room
The fluorescent lights of the downtown police precinct hummed a dull, monotonous tune that grated against my nerves. The waiting room smelled of stale coffee, industrial floor wax, and damp winter coats. Outside the tall, wired-glass windows, a steady sleet was beginning to slick the asphalt, catching the amber glow of the streetlights. I sat on a hard plastic bench, my fingers tracing the edge of the small wooden music box I had brought along just to keep my hands steady.
Adrian sat beside me, his shoulder pressed reassuringly against mine. The physical distance between us had vanished hours ago in the boardroom, replaced by an unspoken, hard-won solidarity that felt more permanent than any contract. Across the room, a pair of high-priced defense attorneys in charcoal overcoats paced anxiously near the double doors, whispering into their phones as they waited for permission to enter the holding cells.
The inner precinct door swung open, and the federal investigator who had taken our statements earlier stepped out, carrying a thick clipboard. He walked over to our bench and offered a tired, respectful nod.
"The paperwork is finalized," the investigator said, glancing between Adrian and me. "Preston Hale is being transferred to central booking to await arraignment in the morning. His legal team tried every procedural delay in the book, but the digital evidence packet you provided left them nowhere to hide. The charges for reckless endangerment and corporate intimidation will stick."
"And the foundation's real estate assets?" Adrian asked, his voice sharp and focused.
"Frozen by order of the federal judge," the investigator replied. "The families who were displaced by his manufactured zoning violations are going to get their day in court, too. You broke the whole thing wide open."
I let out a long breath I felt like I'd been holding since the champagne bottle first shattered against the brass railing in the ballroom. The heavy knot of fear that had lived in my chest for days finally loosened its grip.
May you like
"Thank you," I murmured, looking up at Adrian as the investigator walked away.
"We're not done yet, Lena," Adrian said softly, reaching over to take my hand, his calloused fingers interlacing securely with mine. "Let's go home and tell Isabella that she's safe."
