Nadia's POV
Armed and dangerous. The words echoed in my head all night.
I didn't sleep. Just lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Dominic move around the loft. Footsteps. Water running. The clink of glass on counter.
Normal sounds in an abnormal situation.
My mind kept circling back to the same questions: Was Marcus really corrupt? Was Sarah part of this? Was Judge Rivers, the woman I'd admired for years, actually a criminal?
Or was Dominic playing an elaborate game, manipulating me with fake evidence?
By morning, I'd decided. I needed to see more. Verify everything myself.
I found Dominic in the kitchen, making breakfast. Again.
You cook every morning, I said.
Routine keeps you sane. I learned that after He stopped. After my wife died. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Same time every day. It gave me something to control when everything else was chaos.
He plated eggs and toast. Perfectly, like always.
I don't want your food, I said.
Then you'll starve. He slid the plate across. Your choice, Counselor.
My stomach growled loudly enough that we both heard it.
I sat down and ate. Still delicious. Still hated it.
Ready for today's evidence? Dominic asked.
No. But show me anyway.
He pulled up his tablet and opened a video file. Remember the prosecution's key evidence? The murder weapon found in my car?
Your fingerprints were all over it.
Because I'd used it three months earlier at a gun range. Legally. They kept records, I signed in, used their rental weapons, including that specific gun. He pressed play. But I didn't take it from the range. Someone else did.
The screen showed security footage of a parking garage. Dark. Grainy. A Mercedes with Dominic's license plate.
The timestamp read 11:47 PM, he night Linda Morrison was murdered.
A figure approached the car. Dressed in black, face hidden. But wearing something unmistakable: a Metro Police uniform.
I leaned closer. Who is that?
The figure pulled out a lock pick. Within ninety seconds, the car door opened. They reached into their jacket, withdrew something wrapped in cloth, and placed it carefully in the glove compartment.
Then they relocked the car and disappeared into the shadows.
The murder weapon, Dominic said quietly. Planted in my car while I was at a business meeting across town. I have witnesses, security footage, everything proving I wasn't there.
My legal training kicked in. This footage wasn't shown at trial.
Because it doesn't exist. Officially. He pulled up another document. The parking garage security system had a 'malfunction' that night. All footage from 11 PM to midnight was corrupted. Unrecoverable.
But you have it.
I pay well for things that don't officially exist. He zoomed in on the uniform. Look at the badge number.
I squinted. Partially visible: 4187.
That's Officer Marcus Rivera, Dominic said. Works night shift in evidence processing. Where the murder weapon would have been stored after Linda Morrison's death.
Evidence processing. My stomach turned.
He took the gun from evidence and planted it in your car.
Then 'found' it during a search. Dominic pulled up another document. And guess who signed the search warrant? Judge Catherine Rivers. Signed at 6 AM, hours before standard court hours. She fast-tracked it.
Judge Rivers. The woman who'd encouraged my career. Who'd told me some cases can't be won but should still be fought.
This could be fabricated, I said weakly.
Verify it yourself. I'll give you access to Metro PD's evidence logs. Cross-reference when the gun was checked out. Match it to the planting timeline. He stood. I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to investigate.
I stared at the frozen image. A police officer planting evidence. A judge fast-tracking a warrant.
Marcus calling me a fugitive on national news.
Show me the rest of the loft, I said. If I'm really staying here, I need to know what I'm working with.
Dominic led me through the space. The kitchen had everything, full refrigerator, stocked pantry. The bedroom had clean towels, soap, shampoo. A whole wall was lined with law books.
You planned this carefully, I said.
I had six months.
One door had a keypad lock. When I reached for it, Dominic caught my wrist.
Not yet. My personal files. You earn access when you've proven you're actually investigating, not planning an escape.
I could scream right now.
This building is abandoned. I own it. Scream if you want. His grip was firm but not painful. Or you could stop testing me and start working.
He released my wrist.
I wanted to hate him. Wanted to fight.
But he was right.
That night, I lay in bed again, unable to sleep. The security footage replayed in my mind. The police uniform. The planted gun. Judge Rivers's signature on an early-morning warrant.
What if it was all real?
What if the system I'd devoted my entire life to was corrupt?
I'd grown up in foster care. Bounced between homes until I aged out at eighteen. I'd put myself through community college and law school working three jobs because I believed the legal system could protect people like me.
People with no one else.
But what if I'd been wrong? What if the courthouse was just another place where the powerful crushed the powerless?
Through the walls, I heard Dominic moving around. Still awake. Like me.
Two people who should be enemies, trapped together, both unable to sleep.
I must have dozed off eventually because I woke to sunlight and the smell of coffee.
Day two.
Time for more evidence. More truth I didn't want to face.
I found Dominic at the computer in the evidence room.
Ready? he asked.
Just show me.
He pulled up new files. Your mentor, Marcus Webb. You've known him for seven years. He encouraged your career. Treated you like a daughter.
Don't, I warned.
You need to see this. He opened a financial document. Marcus has offshore bank accounts. Thirteen of them. Over two million dollars deposited in the past five years.
The screen filled with account statements. Deposits. Withdrawals. Numbers that made my head spin.
This is circumstantial, I said. Lots of people have offshore accounts.
Look at the dates.
I looked. Each major deposit matched a date I recognized. High-profile cases. Criminals who'd walked free. Suspiciously light sentences.
He's been taking bribes, Dominic said. For years. Maybe decades.
You don't know that.
Then prove me wrong. Research him. I'm giving you access to databases that normally require federal warrants. He gestured to the computer. Find proof I'm lying. Please. I'd love to be wrong about this.
I sat down. Fingers hovering over the keyboard.
This was the moment. The choice.
Search for truth, or keep pretending everything was fine?
I started typing.
Marcus Webb. Financial records. Case histories. Connections.
Hours passed. The sun moved across the sky. I didn't stop.
Dominic brought me food. I ate without tasting it.
By evening, I'd found things that made me sick.
Marcus had connections to known criminals. Money trails that made no sense on a prosecutor's salary. Case after case where evidence mysteriously disappeared or witnesses suddenly changed their testimony.
You found it, Dominic said from the doorway.
It's still circumstantial.
You don't believe that anymore.
He was right. I didn't.
There's more, he said. Day three evidence. But this one's going to hurt worse than the others.
Just show me.
He pulled up an audio file. Phone conversation. Recorded two months ago.
He pressed play.
Marcus's voice filled the room: We need to discuss the Cross problem.
I froze.
Another voice responded. Female. What kind of problem?
If she digs too deep during the Ashford trial, we'll need to pivot. Make her the fall guy instead of just using her as the attorney.
She trusts you completely.
I know. That's what makes her perfect.
The conversation continued, but I couldn't hear it over the rushing in my ears.
Marcus. Talking about me like I was a problem to be solved. A tool to be used.
The recording ended.
I sat in silence.
That's not the worst part, Dominic said quietly.
What could be worse than my mentor planning to frame me?
The other voice. The woman he was talking to. He played it again, clearer this time.
And I recognized it.
Sarah Chen. My best friend.
I couldn't look at Dominic. Couldn't move.
Sarah. My best friend for seven years. The person I'd trusted most in the world.
I need to be alone, I whispered.
Nadia
Please.
He left without another word.
I went to my room, closed the door, and pressed my back against it.
Marcus had betrayed me. Sarah had betrayed me. Maybe Judge Rivers too.
Everyone I'd trusted. Everyone I'd believed in.
All lies.
I slid down to the floor and finally let myself cry.