ISLA'S POV
I watched as the wine glass slipped from his fingers, the crimson liquid splashing across the white tablecloth. "What? How did it happen? Who are they?" he muttered.
"I don't know," I said calmly. "Never heard of them. His lawyer said it was a legit company."
Harry turned to face me. "Damen has a lawyer?" he asked. "Who is he, and when did he get a lawyer?" He stood up and refilled his glass of wine.
"I don't know when," I replied, "but he said his name is Quinton Andersen, he is a big nuisance."
Again, Harry spilled his wine, this time choking violently. "What?!" he shouted, his face reddening, his eyes wide with alarm, he began to pace across the room.
"Why are you panicking? What's wrong?" I asked calmly, my knife slicing smoothly through my steak. I glanced up at Harry, with a smile. "Come on, I got the money, at least."
"He is Lawyer Andersen," Harry replied, as he continued to pace the room. "The most feared lawyer in the city. He has been missing for three years. His last case was the Jeyton family." I could almost hear the fear in his voice.
I remembered the Jeyton Case, everyone in this City knew about it. The Jeyton's case was one of the most notorious cases in recent history. I still remembered how the media had branded the lawyer who solved it as the most ruthless lawyer in the city.
"What do we do now?" I asked, pushing my chair back and rising from my seat, my meal forgotten. "How did Damen end up with Quinton Andersen?"
"I am not sure how," Harry said, his voice laced with desperation, "Anderson has refused to work on so many cases. Why did he choose Damen?" Harry's hand trembled and suddenly he threw his glass across the room, where it shattered against the wall. He spun back to face me, his eyes blazing with urgency. "We have already lost the land. Ensure we get the money."
"He instructed for it to be deposited directly into my account," I replied, taking a cautious step back from Harry. "It will take two to three days."
Harry's expression transformed, a cold, calculated smile spreading across his face. "Good," he said, his voice filled with malice. "After that, I will press charges. You will be a witness in court. Get ready to face your boyfriend."
"Why do we need to press charges?" I asked in confusion. "He is still facing a ten year sentence if we don't pay bail."
"With Mr. Andersen as his lawyer and no rightful charges pressed, he can be out tomorrow," Harry said, his voice filled with bitterness. "Imagine Damen out of prison, knowing you both betrayed and lied to him. Him discovering the child in your belly isn't his." He laughed, his laughter sent shivers down my spine, a wicked and terrifying sound. "That boy may seem kind, Isla, but I have seen his dark side. I will make sure he stays behind bars, no matter what it takes."
DAMON'S POV
It had been a week. A full week since anyone had visited me, not Isla, not Harry, not Harper, not even Ivy. The last three I could understand. But Isla, my lawyer, had informed me that he had deposited the money in her account. So, where was she?
I was tempted to call VD and have him investigate. But I was still having a problem finding a phone, I really hoped my imaginations were wrong.
As I scrubbed the toilets, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Isla, an officer approached me. "Mr. Clarck, you have a visitor."
I was so happy, I literally skipped to the meeting area. I should have trusted her more, I thought, feeling a pang of guilt for almost losing faith. But my smile faded when I realized my visitor wasn't Isla but Quinton Andersen, his imposing presence commanding attention as he stood waiting for me.
Quinton's eyes scanned me, his expression critical. "You've lost weight, Damen," he observed, his voice blunt. "It's best if you adjust and learn to endure because you may have to stay in here a bit longer than anticipated." He didn't waste time on small talk, going straight to the purpose of his visit.
"How long?" I asked.
"Years," Quinton replied, his expression grim. "Twenty-five years."
I stared at him, searching his face for any hint that this was a joke, but the Quinton I know, never joked.
"What happened?" I asked, my mind racing with possibilities.
"Harry pressed charges," Quinton replied, his voice firm.
"Why? What happened?" I pressed, my frustration growing.
"I don't know," Quinton said, his expression grim. "We will both find out tomorrow. But I assure you, Damen, I will fight to get you out of prison. If the law doesn't work, then BS will come in." His eyes seemed to darken.
I was still in shock to form a response. It took a moment for me to recover from the news, but as my mind cleared, one name echoed through my thoughts: Isla.
"Yes, Isla," I finally managed to say, my voice laced with concern. "What about her? Have you checked on her? Is she safe?"
"She is living in Harry's house, and she's very much fine," Quinton replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.
"What? Why is she living in Harry's home?" I demanded, my voice rising in shock and alarm.
"That's all VD could gather," Quinton said, his expression grim. "He reported that the property is highly guarded, and he couldn't obtain any more information or photos."
"There must be an explanation," I said, trying to convince myself. "After all, Harry is a kind person, and Isla has no relatives. Maybe he's just helping her out." I paused, my mind racing with possibilities. "Whatever they are planning, we will find out in court."
"If they mess with you, Dam, I will take them down," Quinton vowed.
Quinton's expression was dead serious, and I knew he meant every word. But I also knew he would never act without my orders.
"Let's wait, Anders." He smiled at the nickname.
"I will see you tomorrow with the details," Quinton said, his voice firm and resolute. "Court is in a week." With that, he turned and left, leaving me with so many questions that had no answers.
The day finally arrived. I stood in the defendant's dock, my eyes fixed on the ground as the charges against me were read aloud. I was accused of murdering Zoey Blaze, with whom I allegedly had an affair, and our unborn child. They claimed that I had been enraged by Zoey's decision to raise our child with Harry as their own, and that this rage had driven me to murder her.
"Absurd! Completely absurd. Who had come up with this nonsense?" I muttered to myself, my eyes scanned the courtroom in search of Harry. When our eyes locked on mine, his were burning with a fierce hatred as he glared at me. Did he truly believe this outrageous lie? Was this the reason he had finally pressed charges against me?