He Gave Her My Home So I Took Back My Life Chapter 07
The next day, I didn’t go to the hospital.
At nine-fifty, a hard pounding rattled my hotel room door.
Two police officers stood outside. Graham was with them, dressed in a sharp suit. Behind him, Vivian’s eyes were red and swollen, a fresh bandage wrapped around her arm.
“Graham, don’t do this,” she choked out, tugging at his sleeve. “Nora just lost control for a moment…”
Graham shook her off and handed the police the edited footage and the medical report.
“She refused to settle. I want her arrested.”
“The full video is already public!” I clenched my fists. “She scratched herself. I’m the victim here!”
One of the officers glanced over the materials, his tone brisk and official.
“Ma’am, based on the evidence we currently have, we’re authorized to take you into custody. Please cooperate with the investigation.”
He took out a pair of handcuffs.
I stepped back, staring at Graham. “What are you trying to do?”
His expression was cold as stone. “You made your choice.”
The next second, my arms were yanked behind my back. Cold metal snapped around my wrists.
They half-marched, half-dragged me out of the room.
When the elevator doors opened, I realized the real humiliation was waiting downstairs.
The hotel lobby was packed with reporters.
Flashbulbs exploded, and microphones were shoved into my face.
“Nora, have you shown violent tendencies before?”
“Are you jealous of Vivian? Is this a mental health issue?”
Graham’s PR people stood in the crowd, steering reporters closer to me.
“Please understand,” one of them kept saying, “Mr. Ashford has been trying to protect a family member with emotional instability.”
Voices rose all around me.
I wanted to scream the truth, but the officers just pushed me forward. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them, and the cameras lunged greedily toward the proof of my distress.
Then a black car pulled up sharply outside the hotel.
Three men in dark suits got out and moved quickly through the entrance. The one in front, flanked by two attorneys, shouldered through the reporters and stepped directly between me and the cameras.
The noise in the lobby dropped at once.
Someone blurted out, “Isn’t that a donor to the National Trust for Historic Preservation—?”
I looked up sharply.
Mateo Ruiz was here.