Chapter 20 Sent To Prison
Instead, he turned and sat down on the bed.
For a moment, she remained frozen, barely breathing. It seemed he hadn’t noticed her. Slowly, she exhaled, careful not to make a sound.
The space beneath the bed was unbearably cramped, pressing in on her from all sides. She had always hated dark, enclosed places–they dragged her back to a past she wished to forget.
Joel, reeking of alcohol, swinging his shoe with terrifying force. The sting of every strike. The desperate scrambles to hide, slipping under the bed, curled up in the shadows. And from the living room, the sound of Patricia’s agonized cries.
Click
Donovan lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag as his gaze drifted to the vanity. His eyes lingered on the neatly arranged bottles and jars, as if he could see through time–see Shelby sitting there, delicately applying her makeup.
The cigarette burned down to the filter. With a flick of his fingers, he snuffed it out, then lay on his back, staring blankly at the
ceiling.
The bed carried the familiar scent of fresh laundry detergent. Shelby had always beenre she found a product
she liked, she stuck with it. That same subtle fragrance clung to every sheet, every fabric in her home.
Even after moving her pillow into his own room, he still felt displaced, like a stranger in his own house.
In this room, however, he could sense her presence.
Turning onto his side, Donovan propped his head on his arm. He closed his eyes, reaching out instinctively–almost expecting to find her there.
“Don” Shelby’s voice was gentle, her arm draped around his waist, her face nestled against his chest.
“Should we have a baby? I’d love a daughter. They say daughters take after their fathers, don’t they?”
She was soft, warm, and utterly pliant in his embrace–something Donovan never tired of. He loved the way her skin felt beneath his touch, how her hands and arms were so delicate that he wished he could absorb that softness into his very bones.
He pulled her closer, his grip tightening. Shelby giggled, pushing lightly against his chest. “Don, stop,” she laughed breathlessly. “I can’t breathe.”
But in reality, the bed was empty. Donovan lay on his side, his arms wrapped stubbornly around nothing.
Meanwhile, Lila had spent the night curled up under the bed, her limbs stiff and aching. When she finally woke, the sun was already high, and Donovan was long gone.
She wasted no time. Quietly, she retrieved the jewelry she had pilfered from the drawer, tucking it into her pocket before slipping out of the room and retreating back to her own.
When Lila came downstairs, she found only Olivia in the dining room.
Breakfast was a traditional Clusian spread–milk and buns. Lila grimaced. She much preferred an Azanian–style breakfast
“Mr. Mayer specifically instructed that you must finish it all,” Olivia said flatly.
Lila didn’t have much of an appetite. “Where is he?”
“He’s already left for the office.”
Without another word, Lila set her fork down and stood to leave, but Olivia blocked her path. “Mr. Mayer asked me to ensure you finish your meal. He stressed that you must take good care of your health.”
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Lila barely heard her, Joel’s calls had been relentless, one after another, as urgent as a life–or–death demand. By nine o’clock, her phone was already vibrating non–stop.
She shot a glance at Olivia before turning on her heel and hurrying back upstairs to get ready. Pressing her phone to her car, she muttered, “Wait for me at home.”
Lila made her way to a second–hand luxury store and discreetly sold the jewelry she had stolen.
Shelby’s pieces were undeniably valuable. With just three of them, she managed to gather the money joel demanded.
She knew this cycle had to end. Cutting ties with Joel was her only way forward, but she had to be careful. More than anything, she couldn’t let Donovan find out about her stepfather.
Lila’s childhood home sat on the outskirts of the city, nestled in a tangle of narrow alleyways lined with cramped residences. The house they lived in wasn’t even theirs–Joel had gambled away their original home long ago.
Bracing herself against the foul stench that always clung to the place, Lila pushed open the door. Inside, Joel lounged chair, clad in oversized shorts. Squinting, he held a book close to his face–Harry Potter.
The moment Joel spotted Lila, his eyes gleamed with greed. He strode toward her, gaze fixed on the bag slung over her shoulder.
Disgust twisted in Lila’s stomach. She instinctively stepped back before yanking the bag off and tossing it toward him.
She hated it when he got too close.
Joel unzipped the bag. rifling through the stack of cash inside. His lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes remained c and calculating. “Not bad,” he drawled. “You got it pretty fast. Maybe I should’ve asked for two million instead.”
Looks like she could come up with that too.
Lila gritted her teeth. Fury burned through her veins–she had never met anyone so shameless.
“Where’s my mom?” Lila looked around.
Joel, counting the money with a satisfied smirk, didn’t even look up. He casually stuffed two stacks into his pocket. “She’s sick.”
he muttered.
The sound of his flip–flops smacking against the floor echoed as he made his way to the door. He yanked it open and disappeared outside.
Only when the door clicked shut did Lila finally exhale, stepping into her mother’s room.
“Patricia lay on the bed, a thin blanket draped over her. Even in the dim lighting, Lila could make out the bruises shadowing her mother’s skin.
She wasn’t sick.”
Lila sat down at the edge of the bed. “Mom, get a divorce. I’ll take care of you.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, beneath the covers, Patricia shifted slightly. Her voice was barely above a whisper, muffled and resigned. “I can’t,” she said. “If I do, he’ll kill me.”
Frustration churned inside Lila–her mother’s weakness infuriated her just as much as Joel’s cruelty.
“Forget it. Do whatever you want,” she snapped, her patience worn thin.
Slipping into her high heels, she stepped outside. That was when she spotted a police car idling in the alleyway. She barely spared it a glance, assuming someone else had landed themselves in trouble.
Until the officers approached her.
“Ms. Lila Brock, correct?” One of them stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “You’re suspected of theft. Please come
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with us.”
Lila’s stomach dropped. Her brows knitted together. “What are you talking out?”
She instinctively took a step back, her heels scraping against the pavement, unwilling to let them drag her into that car.
Hearing the commotion, curious neighbors trickled out of their homes, craning their necks to see what was happening. When they spotted Lila surrounded by the police, murmurs broke out.
“Goodness, what did she do?” someone whispered.
“I hope they’ve finally caught her father.”
“Shh! Don’t say that out loud,” another cautioned. “If that scumbag hears, he might come after you.”
At that, the crowd fell into uneasy silence.
Lila was taken to the police station, where all the jewelry she had sold had already been recovered. The jewelry shop owner jwas also present. Only then did Lila realize her mistake–she had drastically undersold the pieces. One of them alone was
worth three times what she had received for everything.
“I didn’t steal anything, Lila said firmly. “Call Donovan.”
She had a plan, and she was certain she could talk her way out of this.
The officer tapped his fingers on the desk, his gaze sharp. “It was Mr. Mayer who reported the theft. He took you in our kindness, and you repaid him by stealing from his wife.”
Lila was momentarily stunned, unable to process the accusation.
“Take her into custody,” the officer instructed.
Panic surged through her, and she instinctively resisted. “No! This can’t be right–I need to see Donovan!”
All I did was take a few pieces of Shelby’s jewelry. What’s the big deal? She’s gone–her things are just sitting there, unused. What’s the harm in using them to handle an urgent situation? Donovan must have thought there was a burglar in the house. That’s the only reason he called the police. He couldn’t have known it was me.
Desperate, Lila blurted out, “I need to call Donovan! He’s my boyfriend! He must have thought the jewelry was stolen–that’s why he reported it! If he knew I was the one who took it, he never would have.”
The officer handed her bag back. “Go ahead and call him.“/
Lila wasted no time, retrieving her phone and dialing Donovan’s number. There was no way she was spending the night in a
cell.
After a few tense seconds, the call connected.”
“Donovan, I’m at the police station,” she said, her voice trembling with distress. “There are all sorts of criminals here–I’m really scared. Can you come get me?”
“Hand the phone to the officer, Donovan said flatly.
Lila’s lips curled into a small, triumphant smile. Confident he would clear things up, she held out the phone to the officer.
Arms crossed, she waited, certain she’d be walking out of there any moment now.
As the officer listened to the call, his gaze flicked toward Lila. She smirked inwardly. Donovan must be convincing them to let me go. After all, the jewelry belongs to the Mayer family. If Donovan didn’t press charges, there’d be no consequences.
The moment the call ended, she leaned forward eagerly. “What did my boyfriend say?”
The officer handed back her phone, his expression firm. “Mr. Mayer made it clear–there will be no reconciliation. He has,
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zero tolerance for your actions and wants us to proceed according to the law.”
