Chapter 47 (1)
Abigail
As soon as Daniel raised his hand, the waiter appeared almost instantly, his notebook poised and ready. Daniel gestured for me to begin, and Lordered water to start, planting to keep my meal light.
“Just a simple garden salad,” I started, but then paused Aint memory of my stomach growling earlier this morning intruded, accompanied by a pang of guilt. I had promised my baby I’d do better. Eating properly wasn’t just about me anymore–It was about both of us, I swallow the lump of hesitation and quickly amended
my order. “Actually, I’ll have the rosemary grilled chicken with a side of roasted vegetables. And the soup of the day to start.”
The waiter nodded, his pen moving swiftly across the pap something modest. Instead, he closed his menu and sakl,
glanced at Daniel, wondering if he would opt for I have the same.”
The waiter’s pen stilled for a second before he smiled politely. “Excellent choice.” As he jotted down Daniel’s order, he added, “May I recommend the 2015 Château Margaux? It pairs beautifully with your meal.”
Before I could respond, Daniel spoke, his tone firm but polite. “That won’t be necessary. We won’t be having alcohol today. Instead,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to mine, “bring ginger squash for Mrs. Remington. Make sure it’s non–alcoholic. For me, just soda water.”
His words surprised me, but the waiter simply nodded and wrote it down. “Very well. I’ll return shortly.”
As the waiter disappeared, I turned my gaze to Daniel. A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I studied him. He was a far cry from the hesitant man I’d spoken to over the phone. That Daniel had sounded careful, almost wary. But this Daniel–calm, assured, and quietly assertive–was a different story altogether.
“How did you know I like ginger squash?” I asked lightly, leaning back in my chair.
He shrugged, his expression neutral. “I don’t like to go into meetings unprepared.”
I arched an eyebrow, amused by his nonchalance. “What do you think I called you here for?
Daniel tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady but unreadable. “With all due respect, Mrs. Remington, I’m not a fan of guessing games. I’d rather you just say what you want in plain terms.”
The waiter returned then, setting our glasses of water before us with the precision of a surgeon. “Your food will be out shortly,” he promised before retreating once again.
I took a sip of my water, the cool liquid easing the dryness in my throat. “You must have worked for Alexander long enough to adopt his no–nonsense attitude,” I remarked.
Daniel didn’t respond immediately, his face impassive. For a moment, I wondered if my comment had struck a nerve. But then he raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused.
I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice as I asked, “Do you need my help?”
His brows furrowed slightly. “Help with what?”
“With whatever Alexander has you working on,” I said. “I know he must be investigating the kidnapping case. Susanna was involved, after all. And if he’s digging for answers, I want in.”
Daniel’s expression didn’t change, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. He didn’t immediately dismiss my offer, which was telling in itself. Instead, he regarded the silently for a long moment before speak
“Why come to me?” he asked, his tone even. “Why not go straight to Mr. Remington?”
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At that, I couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking my head. “Daniel, don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. We both low how hot the infighting at the company has gotten. Imagine what the rumor mills would do if they saw me and Alexander together. Headlines about secret alliances and betrayals would be splashed across every gossip column by morning”
He didn’t argue, though his gaze sharpened as if he were reassessing me. “And you think working with me avoids that kind of attention?”
“I think working with you makes sense,” I corrected him. “You’re close enough to Alexander to have access to the Information I need but far enough from the spotlight to avoid unnecessary scrutiny.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he stuffed me. “And what exactly do you expect to gain from this?”
“Answers,” I said simply. “I have my suspicions about what happened, but I need proof. Working together benefits both of us. You get access to what I know, and I get closer to the truth.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then he nodded, almost imperceptibly, “I’ll consider it.”
I nodded in return, taking another sip of my water. It was better than a no, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t about to let him get away so easily. “When?” I asked. “Time isn’t exactly on my side, and I’d prefer to have a definite timeline.”
He looked mildly uncomfortable at my insistence, but in the end, nodded reluctantly. “I’ll give you an answer in twenty–four hours,” he promised.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I said firmly, my gaze steady on his. And when you do decide, I hope you’ll choose wisely.”
His lips twitched in what might have been a reluctant smile, but he simply replied, “You’ll have your answer.”
Satisfied with the progress, I felt my appetite return, and I leaned back in my chair, letting the tension drain from my shoulders. “Good. Now, let’s enjoy our meal, shall we?”
Chapter 47 (2)
Chapter 47 (2)
Abigail
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To my surprise, Daniel didn’t seem averse to small talk. He answered my polite questions about the food and the restaurant with a surprising amount of candor, though he never ventured too far into personal territory. When the food finally arrived, I found myself genuinely grateful for the distraction. The roasted vegetables were perfectly tender, the chicken seasoned to perfection.
I focused on my meal, deliberately keeping my gaze fixed of Daniel or my plate, ignoring the pull of curiosity that urged me to glance toward Courad’s table.
Every now and then, I felt a faint flicker of awareness like a phantom thread tugging at the edges of my mind that told me Conrad or someone at his table might be watching me. But I kept my focus forward. I would not give them the satisfaction of my attention.
Daniel and I ate in silence, but it wasn’t the awkward kind. It was an easy quiet, almost companionable, as if we both understood that the real work had already been done and there was no need to fill the space with unnecessary chatter. When the last bite of food disappeared from my plate, I dabbed at my mouth with the napkin, feeling genuinely satisfied.
As the waiter approached with the bill, Daniel reached for his wallet. “Allow me,” he said smoothly, pulling company card. “I insist.”
out a
I raised an eyebrow, already pulling out my own card. “Not a chance. This meal was my idea, and I’m footing the Bill.”
“Mrs. Remington-”
“Don’t even think about arguing with me, Daniel.” I handed my card to the waiter before Daniel could protest further. “This one’s on me.”
The waiter disappeared to process the payment, and Daniel sighed in defeat, though I caught the faintest twitch of a smile. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.
“And you’re perceptive for noticing,” I quipped, rising to my feet as the waiter returned with my card and receipt. Daniel stood as well, his movements fluid and polite, and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
“I hope this partnership proves fruitful,” I said, holding his gaze for a moment. “Have a good day, Daniel.”
“And you as well, Mrs. Remington,” he replied, bowing slightly.
I turned and made my way out of the restaurant, my heels clicking softly against the polished floors. The moment I stepped outside, the crisp afternoon air greeted me, and I couldn’t help the small smile that spread across my face. My stomach was full, my head felt clear, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I was gaining some ground.
But as I drew closer to my car, the sight of uniformed police officers clustered around it made me stop walking abruptly. My heart dropped to my stomach as alarm bells went off in my mind. Policemen? What on earth had happened? My first thought was that someone had broken into the car. But why? There was nothing worth stealing inside. I had my purse on me, as well as my phone and credit card.
1 started walking quicker, holding my purse tight. “Excuse me,” I called out, my voice touched–by both confusion and concern. “What’s going on here?”
Two of the officers broke away from the group and moved toward me, their expressions grim as th contact with me. I slowed my approach, my pulse thrumming with unease. Something wasn’t right.
ade eye
Chapter 47 (2)
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One officer–a burly man with a slaved head and piercing blue eyes stepped closer, his hand moving to the handcuffs on his belt. For a moment, I thought he was going to explain what had been taken from my car, but then he stopped a few feet from me, his paze hard.
“Abigail Remington?” he asked, his voice cold and clipped
“Yes,” I replied cautiously, my brow furrowing. “What’s ties about?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled the handcuffs from his belt. “Place your hands in front of you”
I froze, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing “What?”
“Place your hands in front of you,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Panic made my heart beat faster as I stumbled back a step, my eyes darting to the other officers. “What is this? What’s going on?”
The second officer, a woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun, moved closer. “Mrs. Pemington,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “We need you to cooperate. Please place your hands in front of you.”
“I demand to know what this is about!” I snapped, my voice rising as fear took hold. “You can’t just arrest me without telling me why!!
The burly officer stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Abigail Remington, you are under arrest for the murder of Marcy Weathers,” he said, his voice filled with unhidden disgust. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
His words shocked me like the sound of thunder on a rainy night, and my knees nearly buckled under me. Marcy was dead?
“Murder?” I repeated, my voice shaking, “What–no! This has to be a mistake!”
“Tell it to your lawyer,” he said with a sneet, snapping the cuffs onto my wrists.
The cold metal bit into my skin, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Marcy? Murder? How could they possibly think I was involved?
“This is insane!” I cried, struggling against the cuffs. “I didn’t do anything!”
The female officer placed a hand on my shoulder, her expression softening slightly. “Mrs. Remington, please don’t make this harder on yourself.”
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes as I looked around, hoping–praying that someone would intervene, that someone would explain this was all a horrible misunderstanding. But the officers remained firm, their faces grim as they stared at me.
As they led me toward a waiting police car, the accusations they had thrown settled over me like a suffocating blanket. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I was roughly pushed into the car by an officer that was unapologetic despite my sounds of discomfort.
How had it come to this? Just minutes ago, I had been internally celebrating the possible partnership between Daniel Woods and me..
1 thought of Marcy, of our last conversation, and a chill crawled up my spine. We had not ended on the best of terms, and my words hadn’t exactly been kind. The idea that she was dead, that someone had harmed her just
jble was hours after I had left her home, was unbelievable. But the thought that they believed I could be re horrifying.
I wouldn’t have been arrested in this way if all the police had were suspicions. As the car door slammed shut
Chapter 47(2)
behind me, I felt the first tear slip down my cheek. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening.
