Killing My Father-in-law for Justice

The car’s tires screeched as we sped through the narrow streets. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, my hands aching from the cuffs that bit into my wrists.

The officers didn’t speak. Not that I expected them to. Four of them had manhandled me into the back of the police vehicle, their grips firm and unrelenting, and I’d known better than to keep struggling.

Still, every fiber of my being wanted to fight.

Minutes later, the car came to a sudden halt. One officer yanked open the door, and before I could move, they dragged me out. The station loomed in front of me, its sterile lights glaring like a spotlight on my shame. They didn’t give me a chance to find my footing, their hands pulling and shoving until I was thrown into a cell.

I hit the cold concrete floor hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. The clang of the cell door locking behind me was deafening, and I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

How poetic. This was the grand finale of my life—rotting in a cage for the murder of Victor Salvani.

The hours crawled by. I sat in the corner, knees pulled to my chest, my mind running in circles. My stomach churned, not from hunger but from the weight of what I knew was coming.

It was the sound of approaching footsteps that finally broke the monotony. I didn’t bother to look up until the cell door creaked open, and when I did, my stomach dropped.

"Marco," I whispered, my throat dry.

He stepped inside, his face a mask of fury. His usually pristine suit was wrinkled, his tie loosened, as though he’d come here in a rush. His dark eyes bore into me, a storm of anger and disbelief swirling behind them.

"Oh, that's just lovely, Daphne. Killing my father and then divorcing me? Such a thoughtful gesture. Simply divine." he said, his voice low and menacing.

I didn’t respond.

"Don’t you dare sit there in silence," he snarled, his voice rising. "You killed my father, Daphne! Why?!"

His words echoed in the small cell, but I refused to flinch. Refused to let him see the guilt that clawed at me. My face was a blank slate, betraying nothing.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor drew my attention to the doorway. Amanda Banes stepped into view, her perfectly polished demeanor intact. The sight of her made my blood boil.

"Oh," I said, my voice laced with mockery. "The cavalry arrives. Let me guess, Amanda, you couldn’t wait to gloat?"

Amanda smirked, stepping closer to Marco. "I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you rot for what you did," she said coolly.

I tilted my head, studying her. "A prosecutor helping her lover’s husband avenge his father. How quaint. Tell me, Amanda, does he cry on your shoulder at night? Or are you too busy playing house?"

Amanda’s expression hardened, but her voice remained calm. "You’re a murderer, Daphne. You deserve every second of what’s coming to you."

I couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that even to me felt unhinged. "Murderer? Amanda, you don’t even know the half of it."

Marco stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "Enough," he barked, glaring at me. "You disgust me."

I met his gaze, the words stinging more than I wanted to admit. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Amanda touched his arm, her voice softening. "Let’s go, Marco. She’s not worth it."

They left together, their footsteps fading into the distance. The silence that followed was suffocating. I slid down the wall, my legs giving out beneath me.

For a long time, I stared at the floor, my mind a chaotic mess. The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I pushed it down, locking it away where it couldn’t hurt me.

It was the faint rustling from outside the cell that snapped me out of my daze. I sat up, my brow furrowing. The noises were different this time—unfamiliar, almost deliberate.

Then the door creaked open, and several figures filed in. Their faces were obscured by masks, their movements swift and precise. Panic surged through me as one of them approached the cell, his gloved hands working quickly to pick the lock.

The door swung open with a soft click, and the figure stepped inside.

"Come with us," he said, his voice firm but low.

I shook my head, backing away. "I’m not going anywhere with you."

The man hesitated, then reached up to remove his mask. My breath caught in my throat.