Chapter 7 - Concrete Reality
Vanessa Kensington paced the length of her holding cell.
Three steps forward.
Three steps back.
Her designer heels had been confiscated.
She was wearing paper-thin orange scrubs that smelled of cheap detergent and despair.
Her perfectly manicured nails were chipped.
"Guard!" she screamed, gripping the steel bars.
"I need my phone! I get a phone call! I know the mayor!"
The female deputy at the desk down the hall didn't even look up from her paperwork.
Vanessa’s anger quickly dissolved into suffocating panic.
She had expected Richard to bail her out.
She had expected a team of expensive lawyers to walk through the door and apologize for the misunderstanding.
Instead, a tired-looking public defender in a cheap suit finally appeared on the other side of the bars.
He carried a thick manila folder.
"Ms. Kensington? I'm David Miller, court-appointed counsel."
Vanessa scoffed, stepping back.
"I don't want a public defender. Where is Richard Harrington?"
David sighed, opening the folder.
"Mr. Harrington is currently in federal custody without bail."
"His assets have been frozen."
Vanessa’s mouth fell open.
The color completely drained from her face.
"No," she whispered. "No, that's impossible. He has millions."
"He has nothing," David corrected her bluntly.
"And frankly, Ms. Kensington, Mr. Harrington is the least of your problems."
He pulled out a sheet of paper.
"The District Attorney is charging you with Attempted Murder in the First Degree."
"Assault of a pregnant woman."
"Reckless endangerment."
Vanessa grabbed the bars, her knuckles turning white.
"It was an accident! She slipped!"
"There are fifty witnesses, including three judges, who saw you push her," David said tiredly.
"There is security footage."
"And the victim's brother is Harrison Cole."
Vanessa flinched at the name.
"The DA is not offering a plea deal," David continued.
"They are going for the maximum penalty."
"You are facing twenty-five years to life."
Vanessa sank to the concrete floor.
The cold seeped through the cheap orange fabric, chilling her to the bone.
There was no penthouse.
May you like
There was no billionaire husband.
There was only a concrete box, and it was going to be her home for a very long time.
