Chapter 21
WILLIAM
I sat in the foyer of the local police station, my hands cradling the wrinkled paper cup as if it held my personal salvation.
Minutes had turned into hours as daylight finally broke through the glass windows. I had been cemented in the same position all night, slumped in the uncomfortable chair, causing my spine to scream out for relief. I refused to leave.
Despite my desperate pleas, the officers declined my entry, rejecting my presence altogether, while my wife sat behind bars.
Just the thought of her in that cell made me sick with worry.
Nikita and I were supposed to be celebrating our nuptials. Instead, the special day had been ruined, our union spun into a cosmic joke.
I still hadn’t come to terms with everything that had happened, unable to comprehend that it was my son who sabotaged the whole thing.
When he spat those savage words in front of our loved ones and stared at me so utterly indifferently, it felt as if I was looking at a stranger—one filled with untapped disdain, solely geared towards me.
I could understand his hatred and could even accept his resentment after five long years. But did he have to go after Nikita to get back at me?
My wife was innocent. Of that, I was certain. Though how was I supposed to help deny the charges when I didn’t know what they were?
Movement in my periphery made my head jerk towards the entrance, managing to catch the arrival of Colton and another man who seemed vaguely familiar.
They both looked fresh, professional and intimidating, sporting expensive suits with the shiny shoes to match. They were the antithesis of me, as I remained in my crinkled dress shirt and stained tailor-made pants from the night before.
My spine straightened as my son walked past, waiting for his acknowledgement or apology… That didn’t come.
Instead, Colton beelined for the front desk, not sparing a measly glance my way. My hands clenched up in frustration, destroying the remains of the flimsy cup still in my grasp.
I watched on, almost detached as he smiled at the receptionist, who nodded and slipped out back. My son didn’t falter, softly whispering with the man who accompanied him, their speech rushed, yet low enough that I couldn’t decipher the words.
He can’t do this. I won’t allow him to. He’s still my child.
I was overloaded with emotions, overstimulated to the point that I wanted to scream. I didn’t understand what was happening, but it was about time I found out.
I stood on shaky legs, holding the back of the chair to stabilise myself.
“Colton,” I called. It mustn’t have been loud enough since the two men continued talking, heads huddled together.
I cleared my throat to try again, daring a step forward.
“Colt.”
Still nothing. So he was ignoring me on purpose.
As I prepared to storm over there and demand his attention, the receptionist opened a side door and stepped out into the foyer, gaze locked on Colton as she said, “Mr Tems, we’re ready for you now.”
Tems?
No, it can’t be. He’s taken Beth’s maiden name. This can’t be real.
Then my son followed through with the final blow, confirming the dire suspicion. “Thank you, but please call me Colton.”
They all shuffled towards the opening when I managed to shriek, “If this has to do with Nikita, I’m coming.”
The group all turned as one, but I didn’t spare them any mind, my sole focus on the only person who mattered.
I shouldn’t have been rattled by gaining his attention, as that was what I intended, but his cold expression threw me off. He stared right through me, not giving anything away, as if I weren’t even there.
I opened my palms, imploring and desperate—for what exactly, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t get far before Colton asked the gentleman beside him, “What do you recommend, Tom?”
Sudden recognition sparked at the name, his familiar face identified as the Tems’ family lawyer.
Thomas perked a brow. “I guess this does concern him too. We can bring him with us and save time?”
Colton inclined his head, then spun on his heel, leading us deeper into the depressing labyrinth of jail cells.
I silently followed, my feet getting heavier with each advance forward. I had achieved what I wanted, so why did I have a strong sense of foreboding?
The receptionist finally came to a halt, ushering us into an empty interview room—basic, dull and cold. The only furniture available was a lone table with two seats on either side.
Thomas immediately slipped into an empty chair and opened his briefcase on the hard surface. Colton wasn’t far behind, laying a loose palm on the lawyer’s shoulder, the gesture altogether telling.
Bitter jealousy crashed forth. When the receptionist departed, I let loose.
“What the fuck is going on, Colt?” He didn’t pay me any mind as he casually adjusted his cufflink, which was infuriating. “Don’t ignore me. I’m still your father. Have some fucking respect.”
Everything went still, a bitter chill permeating the air as Colton pieced me with his sole attention. My breathing grew ragged from the blatant show of savagery when Thomas interrupted.
“Take a seat, William. Everything will be revealed in due time. Although I warn you this once. Do not insult my client again, or there will be severe repercussions.”
I gulped, accepting the threat with the seriousness it deserved. Thomas wasn’t some inexperienced lawyer; he was a well-renowned cutthroat bulldog, employed to represent a multimillion-dollar company. He was not someone to be taken lightly.
Which only served to confuse me further. Why? Why is all this happening?
That’s when a high-pitched screech ricochetted off the walls. “Fuck you! Get your hands off me!”
A struggling Nikita was unceremoniously shoved into the room, then the thick metal door was slammed shut in her face.
She was dishevelled, her bridal gown marked, with her hair in disarray, yet I was relieved to see her in one piece. “Babe,” I said.
Nikita ignored me, fire flashing over her features. “What the fuck have you done, Colton?”
He had the audacity to appear shocked. “Me?”
“Yes you, fucker! I know this is all your doing! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”
Thomas stood. “If you take a seat—"
“This is illegal—all of it! Holding me against my will, shoving me into this room. I’m not scared of you and won’t be bullied into your shit! You’re not the authorities, Colton. You better get ready to be sued out of your ass!”
“How did you manage to get us in here?” I asked, trying to work out what the hell was going on.
“Anything is possible, William, when you’re filthy fucking rich.”
My new wife flinched, which had my brow furrowing.
Colton tutted at her. “Ahh, I see. You thought you’d managed to get your grubby little hands on it all, huh?”
Nikita blanched, colour rapidly draining from her face as she stared dumbfounded at my son.
That was when Colton’s lips perked into an amused grin—more sinister than the impassive mask he’d worn earlier. “It’s finally here.”
“What?” I asked, my voice breaking on that one singular word.
“Justice.”