Bryson didn't believe me.

Of course he didn't.

The lead officer stepped forward, voice firm. "Ma'am, you're suspected of theft involving a high-value item. You'll need to come with us for further investigation."

Click.

Cold cuffs snapped around my wrists.

I looked at Bryson.

Nothing came out.

Old wounds ripped open, that dull ache spreading through my chest, heavy enough to take me down.

We grew up together.

He once said he'd protect me. Forever.

Yeah. Right.

Then why does he keep being the one who breaks me?

As they led me away, Talia stepped in close. Just enough so only I could hear.

"Bitch," she whispered, smug as hell. "Did you really think you could beat me?"

Just like that, they shoved me into the police car and drove off.

***

Third-Person POV

In the staff lounge, Vivian and the others shoved their stuff into bags, faces totally wrecked.

"This is all Joanna's fault. She did it on purpose. She saw people coming and didn't even warn us."

The intern scoffed. "Right? She should've stayed locked up as a thief. Ten years, minimum. Let's see how cocky she is then."

Vivian said nothing. Losing her job hit hard. Her face went dark as she yanked her backpack zipper shut, teeth grinding.

They were about to head out when Vivian caught something in the corner of her eye.

A small figure.

Joanna's kid—Kyle.

He sat quietly, flipping through an old picture book. No running, no noise.

Vivian's eyes locked on him. And just like that, a nasty idea clicked.

She dropped her bag, pasted on a smile, and walked over.

"Kyle, reading a picture book? Such a good boy."

Kyle looked a little shy but still nodded. "Hello, Ms. Finch."

Vivian hummed and reached out, all fake sweet, patting his hair.

"Kyle, I need to tell you something. Your mom just got taken by the police. They said she did something bad."

"What?!"

The book slipped from his hands and smacked the floor.

He shook his head fast, voice trembling. "My mom wouldn't do anything bad!"

Vivian sighed, all fake sympathy. "I believe her too. That's why you have to save her." She pointed toward the main hall. "Don't cry. Go out there and run to the brightest, busiest place.

"Once you're inside, find... hmm, a really well-dressed, powerful-looking old lady.

"When you see her, beg her to save your mom. Tell her to make the police let her go. Remember—only she can help."

Kyle was too young to catch the trap.

"Thank you!" he cried.

Kyle didn't even grab the book. He bolted for the banquet hall.

Vivian leaned in the doorway, watching him go, a twisted smile creeping across her face.

The others crowded around her, nervous but kinda excited. "Vivian... this won't cause trouble, right?"

"Trouble?" She let out a short laugh. "What trouble? Worst case, it annoys the Harding family and makes Joanna's life in prison even worse. And if that brat gets lost? Not our problem."

She turned and walked off, leading them out like she'd just won something.

Kyle was scared.

But for his mom, he ran straight into the main banquet hall.

One look—that was all it took. He spotted the older woman in the center, surrounded by people.

She stood out. Dressed to kill, everyone treating her like she owned the place.

'It's her.'

No time to think. Saving his mom was all that mattered. He pushed through the crowd, forcing his way forward.

Crying, Kyle slammed right into Adeline.

"Ma'am, please tell the police to let my mommy go!"

Adeline stumbled, caught off guard, but someone beside her steadied her fast.

She looked down, ready to snap—then froze.

"Oh my, whose child is—"

That face.

The whole room went silent.

The brows, the eyes, the nose—he looked exactly like Bryson when he was a kid.

At the same time, Bryson rushed over.

One look at Kyle and he just... stopped. Then he scooped him up, stunned. "Kid, who are your parents?"

Kyle shrank back, scared by everything. "Please save my mommy! The police took her! Mommy... I can't find Mommy. Her name is Joanna."