CHAPTER 10

Longer Sentence...



William's POV

“Prosecutor William,” a voice called out, halting me in my tracks.

I turned on instinct. A young man—he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five—stood by a sleek black vehicle. Dressed in a tailored suit and wearing an earpiece, he had the composed, alert look of someone trained to obey and protect.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I responded, adjusting the strap of my bag.

“I’ll be escorting you to Mr. King,” he said, voice clipped, formal.

So, I was expected.

“Alright then. Lead the way.”

He opened the car door for me with robotic precision. I stepped inside without further words. The driver, already in place, nodded at me through the rearview mirror and started the engine. The car was quiet, the type that muffled even the hum of the world outside.

As we drove, I stared out the window, trying to calm the growing tension in my chest. Meeting Mr. King wasn’t something I took lightly. He wasn’t just a man—he was a presence. Dominating, unpredictable, and too powerful for his own good.

We arrived at his estate—an intimidating mansion tucked into the hills like it ruled the land. The man from earlier led me through large double doors and down a pristine hallway. It opened into a study, minimalist but suffocating in its silence.

“Please wait here for a moment,” he said before disappearing.

I remained standing. The silence was a weight pressing down on my shoulders, mingling with my thoughts, already crowded from the complications of this case.

Two minutes passed—maybe three.

Then, suddenly, I heard a scream outside. A woman’s voice.

“Bruno! Stop!”

My heart jumped. I dashed out without thinking, my instincts overriding my reason.

“Bruno!” the voice called again, but this time with laughter laced in her tone.

I turned the corner and was met with a surprising sight.

A dog—brown, muscular, clearly enjoying the chase—bounded across the grass, tail wagging. Following him was a young woman, laughing wildly as she tried to catch him. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, a few strands falling loose, framing her radiant face.

She was beautiful—stunning, really. She wore simple clothes: shorts and an oversized shirt, but there was something striking about how she moved, like she belonged to the world and yet didn’t care to be noticed by it.

She collapsed onto the grass, still laughing, the dog pouncing on her, licking her face.

“Bruno! No, oo!” she giggled, pushing him away playfully.

I found myself frozen, watching. Her laughter, her joy—it felt foreign. I hadn’t seen something so genuine in a long time.

Then she noticed me.

Our eyes met. Her smile faded slightly, replaced with curious recognition.

“Have we met before?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Had we?

Oh—right. The bar. The night I got dragged out for a drink I didn’t want.

“Yes… um, that time at the… bar?” I said, scratching the back of my head.

Before I could process more, the dog turned toward me, barking.

“Bite!” she said, pointing at me.

My body jolted into panic mode, and I stumbled backward, landing square on my ass. My heart was racing.

But… nothing happened.

She was holding the dog in place, laughing her heart out.

“That look on your face!” she wheezed through laughter.

I stood up, red-faced, brushing myself off.

She smiled again, a little softer this time. “Bruno, sit. Stay. Good boy.” She gave him a rub on the head before glancing back at me.

“Sorry about that,” she said with a playful wink, then turned. “Bruno, let’s go.”

And just like that, she was gone.

I stood there, dazed, still recovering from the chaos she brought with her. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her. She was a spark of wild freedom in this cold, calculated place.

I headed back inside. Mr. King was already waiting for me in the study, sitting by a table that held two glasses and a decanter of wine.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I nodded silently, setting my briefcase down and taking the seat.

He poured the wine. His movements were slow, deliberate. Meant to unnerve.

“Any siblings?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” I replied, not seeing the relevance.

“Married?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

Before I could answer, the door opened. She walked in—the woman. Only this time, her hair flowed freely over her shoulders, and she wore a dress that swayed with every step. Graceful. Commanding.

“Are you interviewing him now?” she asked, strolling over to the wine like she owned the place.

“This here is Prosecutor William,” Mr. King introduced.

She looked at me, that smirk returning. “Nice to see you again.”

I didn’t know what to say. My brain stuttered. All I could do was nod.

“This is the one I’m about to marry,” Mr. King said, like announcing a business deal.

My chest tightened. Of course. Of course, she was his.

“I heard you were curious about the case I’ve taken over,” I said, steering the conversation away from the awkwardness.

“Okay… let’s cut to the chase,” Mr. King said, sipping his wine. “Death due to hit-and-run. How much of a sentence can you give?”

“I don’t think you called me here for simple curiosity,” I replied, sitting up straighter. “Anyone could answer that.”

He smiled faintly. “Glad to see we understand each other.”

His gaze turned sharp. “I heard the evidence in the case is quite… fail-proof. So why is the suspect still walking free? Why is the case dragging?”

“I can’t discuss that. The investigation is ongoing.”

He stood then, walked toward the window, arms behind his back.

“She deserves the maximum sentence. Make it happen,” he said.

I paused.

That name…

“May I ask,” I said cautiously, “what your relationship with Miss Jade is?”

“I’m not concerned about who Jade is,” he said coldly. “I’m concerned about June. The woman that thing killed.”

June. My breath caught. That was the name of the victim.

“She was carrying a child, wasn’t she?” Elizabeth’s voice cut in.

I looked up. She was staring at me again, her eyes glassy but alert. She’d been listening the whole time.

“Yes,” I said carefully.

“She was the woman he loved to death,” she added bitterly, draining another glass of wine.

“Elizabeth, maybe stop drinking. Mother’s visiting tonight,” Mr. King said without looking at her.

She sighed but poured one last glass. “Whatever. I’m off.”

As she walked toward the door, he stopped her. “Wait—I’ll call a driver.”

“No thanks,” she replied, venom creeping into her voice. “You trying to act kind is the real danger.”

She looked back at him with a sad smile. “Go on, keep telling him about the woman you can’t live without.”

Then her expression darkened, and she left.

I rose from my chair. “I can’t grant your request. You’re making this personal.”

“That wasn’t a request,” he replied, voice steely. “That was a declaration. I will be watching how well justice is served.”

“Thank you for your time,” he added, dismissing me.

As I stepped out, my head spun. The case, Jade, June, Elizabeth… everything was too entangled. What had I stepped into?

Outside, I found Elizabeth leaning against her car, keys in hand, eyes slightly unfocused.

She opened the door, clearly intending to drive.

“No,” I said firmly, stepping between her and the wheel. “I’ll drive.”

“Move aside,” she muttered, pushing weakly.

“I’ll drive,” I repeated, holding her gaze.

She looked up at me, eyes sharp despite the alcohol. “And why the hell would you do that?”

“You’ve had four glasses of wine. I’m worried.”

Something in her eyes shifted. She looked away and moved to the passenger seat without another word.

As I started the engine, I glanced up—only to see Mr. King standing on the rooftop, watching us.

A chill ran down my spine.

Whatever this was—I was already in too deep.