Chapter 2

2

Kylie's expression froze for a split second at my sarcastic remark.

Yet that freeze lasted only an instant.

The next second, as if she had heard the world's biggest joke, she shrieked even louder at her livestream camera.

"Listen to this, everyone! Look at the pervert's family trying to deflect!"

"To whitewash a predator, she actually cursed her own husband to be armless! Are you trying to say I was fighting a ghost in that elevator?"

Brenda spat onto the floor. "Bullshit! How disgraceful! To dodge paying up, you make up such ridiculous lies! I saw your husband downstairs with my own eyes―dressed in black with both hands stuffed in his pockets as he entered the elevator!"

Instead of getting angry, I leaned against the doorframe, amused by their performance. "Oh? You saw his hands in his pockets?"

"Damn right!" Brenda declared firmly. "Both hands were shoved deep in those pockets! Stop pretending he's disabled!"

Kylie quickly chimed in, turning to sob toward the police officers.

Indeed, two patrol officers had just arrived at our floor.

"Officers, don't listen to her nonsense. In the elevator, that man's strength was terrifying!"

She gestured with her hands while describing the fabricated details in tears. "His palms were rough, and his fingers were full of thick calluses that scraped my thighs... His left grip was especially vicious as he grabbed the back of my neck. I felt like my bones were going to snap!"

"I fought back with all my might and scratched the back of his right hand! There are definitely my scratch marks on his hand! That's physical evidence!"

The officers frowned as they took notes, their glances toward me carrying a hint of suspicion. "Ma'am, please ask your husband, Gavin Cross, to come out and cooperate with the investigation. If there are scratch marks, we can clear this up quickly."

I stood firm in the doorway, refusing to yield an inch.

"Officers, my husband is in a fragile medical state, undergoing sterile physical therapy right now. He cannot be exposed to drafts or stress. You may investigate, but I request my attorney to be present, and―"

I swept a frosty gaze across Kylie and her mother. "I demand that the entire questioning process be recorded on your body cameras from start to finish."

"You're guilty! You're just terrified!" Kylie screamed, pointing at me. "You're scared the police will see the scratches on his hands!"

Looking at Kylie's face, twisted with manic excitement, the last shred of mercy in my heart vanished.

If they had just stepped inside for a single look, this farce would have ended right then and there.

But they were too greedy, desperate to pin the assault on him and seize that multimillion-dollar settlement.

Since you fabricated such vivid details―calluses, a left-hand chokehold, right-hand scratches...

Then I will give you everything you asked for.

I turned to the officers and said, "Fine, I will cooperate. However, my husband cannot be moved right now. I will go down to the precinct to give my statement. As for examining his injuries―"

A meaningful curve formed at the edge of my lips. "In court, I'll let you examine him to your heart's content."