Hilton was peeling a grape for Ciera when the police walked into her private suite. He was feeding it to her, his expression one of tender servitude, when they presented him with the arrest warrant.
He didn't even bother to read it. He tossed it onto the bedside table as if it were a take-out menu.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his tone dripping with the casual arrogance of a man who had never been told 'no'. "Get out. And send your captain in. I'll have his badge for this."
Ciera giggled, nestling into his side. "Hilty, don't be mean to them. They're just doing their jobs, aren't they?" She looked at the officers, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding. My boyfriend is Hilton Austin."
She said his name like it was a magic word, a charm that could make all unpleasantries disappear. And for his entire life, it had been. Legal troubles, business rivals, inconvenient women-the name 'Hilton Austin', backed by Austin money and Nexus stock, had always been enough.
He believed it would be enough this time, too.
But the arresting officers were not from the local precinct. They were state police, dispatched by a direct order from the Attorney General' s office-an office that owed my father a great many favors. They were immune to the influence of city politics and tech money.
"Hilton Austin," the lead officer said, his voice a flat monotone. "You are under arrest for aggravated assault and battery. You have the right to remain silent."
Ciera' s smile faltered. "Assault? But… but he was defending me! His wife attacked me!" she cried, pointing a frantic finger at the officer. "She's a crazy person! She's obsessed!"
The officer ignored her completely. Two of his men moved forward, each taking one of Hilton's arms.
Hilton finally realized this wasn't a game he could win with a phone call. He began to struggle, his face turning a deep, mottled red. "Get your hands off me! You can't do this! I'll sue you! I'll sue this whole damn department!"
They cuffed him, the click of the metal echoing in the silent, luxurious room. They dragged him out, still shouting threats and demanding his lawyer. Ciera ran after them, her pleas turning into panicked sobs.
He was processed not at a comfortable city precinct, but at the state holding facility-a cold, concrete building that smelled of disinfectant and despair. He was put in a small, bare cell. He raged. He demanded. He listed the names of every powerful person he knew.
No one listened. His lawyer was denied immediate access, tangled in "procedural delays." His parents' calls went unanswered. The Austin empire, for the first time, had hit a wall it couldn't buy or break.
Through the precinct grapevine, I heard the reports. "He's going ballistic," Mark told me, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. "Threw his food tray at a guard. He keeps screaming that his wife is a vindictive bitch who framed him."
I took a sip of my coffee, the warmth a strange contrast to the ice in my veins. I signed the visitor request form. As the victim, I had the right to see him.
The visiting room was small, divided by a thick pane of plexiglass. Hilton was already there, slumped in a plastic chair. He looked terrible. His designer suit was rumpled, his hair was a mess, and a dark stubble was already shadowing his jaw. The charismatic billionaire looked like a common thug.
When he saw me, he shot up from his chair, his hands slamming against the glass.
"Aleta! Get me out of here!" he roared, his voice hoarse. "What did you do? Where are my parents? Why won't anyone answer my calls?"
I sat down, placing my hands calmly on the metal counter. "They know you're here, Hilton."
He froze, his eyes widening in disbelief, then narrowing in rage. "You told them to leave me here? You… you would do that? To your husband?"
"Husband?" I let out a small, dry laugh. "Is that what I am? I seem to recall you telling a room full of people that I was a disgusting, lying bitch you hadn't touched in months."
His face paled. "That was… I was just trying to calm Ciera down! You know how she gets!"
"I do," I said, my voice soft. "I also know that you left me on a deserted road, causing me to lose our child. That you publicly accused me of faking it. That you cut me with a piece of glass and had me beaten."
I leaned forward, my eyes locking with his. "And I know that I was the one who called the police. I was the one who handed them the security footage, the medical report, and the weapon with your fingerprints on it. I am the reason you are in here, Hilton."
His jaw dropped. The fury in his eyes was replaced by a dawning, horrified understanding. He stared at me as if seeing me for the first time-not as an inconvenient wife or a political asset, but as an enemy.
"You wouldn't dare," he whispered. "The alliance… our families…"
"Our families value strength, Hilton," I said, my voice as cold and sharp as the glass he' d used on me. "And right now, you look very, very weak."
I stood up to leave.
"Wait!" he cried, his voice cracking with a desperation I had never heard from him before. "Aleta, please! I'm sorry! Just get me out of here! I'll do anything!"
I paused at the door, my back to him.
"By the way," I said, without turning around. "Your parents aren't coming. No one is. I'm the only person who has come to visit you."
I walked out, leaving him to scream my name in the empty, soundproof room.
