She opened her mouth to narrate who was in the interrogation room with them, but the only words that came out were her stammering words as if she were struggling to talk right from the moment they gave birth to her: "People were... we were the... You asked them to leave while you discussed it with me." “Your Honor, obviously, as I said, what more can a criminal like Mrs. Isabella Rosewood have to say than to bring someone else down with her? The fact that she confessed to her crime and the fact that I, as her defending attorney, persecuted her instead mean that she wants to bring me down with her. And as it is in the court of law, whatever anyone claims, there should be evidence to back it up, be it in words or in documents. If Mrs. Isabella Rosewood here cannot provide this evidence, it means that she spoke lies against her attorney, and she should be equally punished for that as well,” Attorney Hughes said immediately. “Mrs. Isabella Rosewood, is there any evidence that you have to
Coming out of the courtroom and being ushered into the police van, Isabella saw that the numbers of the press outside the courtroom, waiting to televise her and write about her in all newspapers, social media, and blogs, were more than what she had seen before she entered the courtroom.However, this time, there was a difference. Judging by how it was before, the reporters would already swarm her and thrust their microphones toward her, even when she said nothing, other than the officers behind her making way for her to pass through.This time, the reporters only filmed her from afar, as she was being put in the police van and would soon be driven to prison, where she would no longer be free. Nevertheless, it did not mean that the reporters did not scramble at anyone because, to Ethan Mark and Emily Collins, who stepped out of the courtroom with Mr. Smith standing firm behind them, the reporters rushed and thrust their microphones toward his mouth.In this way, Isabella saw how they w
"One way in and one way out. There are two hundred officers and twenty prison cells on an island in the middle of the ocean. Each cell is a silent witness to the stories etched in the concrete walls. All of this is what Isabella heard as she stepped her foot onto the prison ground on the night of her sentencing.In the same way, she knew that everything she heard from the officers taking her to her cell was true. So was the fact that she saw how they had traveled by road and by large, deep water to get to this far prison purposely distant from the residents of the people.In the same spirit, she was able to tell that this prison looked so different than the one she had been locked up in before. Such were the surrounding waters, the waves of them, and the breezes that preached the confinement of the prison to be made for notorious criminals.“We are going to see how you will escape this prison this time, Daddy’s girl. Any mistake from you, and you will be thrown into the ocean, and the
Isabella felt a pang of nostalgia for the bright sky she now missed. For a long few seconds, she peered at the sky and wondered when she would be free to witness the bright sky at any hour of the day she wanted.In the same manner, as her eyes slowly fell from the sky, she observed the towering walls casting shadows over the enclosed space, and the mesh fencing above restricted her view of the open heavens.“Step in,” she heard as the metallic door separating the corridor and the prison yard was opened by one of the guards behind her. Just as she was instructed, she stepped in.“Turn and place your hands through the cuff port,” she heard again, and just like that, she placed her hands through the cuff port, and her handcuffs were unlocked immediately.“All prisoners have only two hours in the yard. So make good use of your time,” one of the officers said. Isabella saw them turn back and walk continuously into the corridor.Inside the yard, Isabella also felt a sense of confinement as
Isabella's eyes, lips, cheeks, and every feature on her face bled profusely from the barrage of punches Elara had decided to decorate her face with, creating a macabre masterpiece that mirrored the brutality etched upon the canvas of her battered visage. Even so, it did not mean that Elara stopped; she continued to yell and relentlessly push punches into Isabella's face. "Go Elara! yes! hit that motherf**ker," Isabella continued to hear as they cheered Elara up into hitting her some more. Her vision in this moment became blurry as she struggled to flicker it open; hence, it shut down into darkness. Nevertheless, it did not mean that Isabella gave up the ghost. In this manner, it only meant that Isabella was defeated, drained of all her strength. Even if, by some chance, she were skilled with her hands in combat, she had no strength left to throw a punch with her tired arms. Hence, the only thing she could do was receive the punches as she struggled for her life, unable to pass out f
Waiting for the night to come, like a woman anticipating her date at a coffee shop, Detective Sharon waited all day long for the sun to set and darkness to enshroud the earth.In her car, parked outside her home, Detective Sharon placed a call to one of her old colleagues at the police station.“Hey, Detective C.”“I already told you not to call me that. My name is Detective Cipher Shadow, for God’s sake.”“Alright, Detective C. I will make sure to remember your full name the next time we talk,” Detective Sharon said.“Yeah, whatever,” Detective Cipher replied, rolling her eyes as if Detective Sharon could see her.“Anyways, why are you calling at this time of the night? You should be in bed, probably snoring your lungs out by now,” Detective Cipher wondered why Detective Sharon had called her at this late hour.“You know the drill, Detective C. I need your help,” Detective Sharon said.“Wo, wo, wo, hold it there. Not again. I already told you that I am not doing anything outside of t
Like a criminal intending to break into a home at night, Detective Sharon observed how Attorney Hughes looked right and left, front and back. When he saw that no one noticed him, Detective Sharon witnessed how he quickly unlocked the door and went in. “Are you sure this is his house, or did he just break in?” Detective Sharon inquired once more, her voice cutting through the silence like a razor through paper, slicing through the darkness with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. “Yes, this is his home. I can’t visibly see why he did that unless you're willing to tread closer to the house,” Detective Cipher responded, her words hanging in the air like a delicate thread, daring Detective Sharon to unravel the mystery veiled in the shadows. As Detective Cipher spoke, Detective Sharon plugged her earbuds into her ears to aid communication between Detective Cipher and herself. She then opened her car door and bent out of it. Her height by her car was not taller than her car tires, as s
With the strength in Detective Cipher's voice resonating with authority, like a command forged in steel, he directed Detective Sharon to move the car. In response, she swiftly rose from beneath the steering wheel, and with a sense of urgency, she started her car.Accelerating forward with surprising speed, her car tires screamed like a teenager who had seen a ghost in the middle of the night. Consequently, she followed the direction she had glimpsed—the path Attorney Hughes and his company had taken, akin to a determined predator tracking its elusive prey through the shadows.As she got closer to them on the road, Detective Sharon immediately began to slow down, ensuring they wouldn't detect that they were being trailed. She positioned her car three cars behind them and drove at a minimal speed, akin to a silent shadow silently tailing its elusive targets through the murky night.The longer they continued to drive, even in the rain, the more Detective Sharon wondered where Attorney Hu
Pushing her back into her prison cell like a reluctant pawn being returned to its square on a chessboard, Isabella fell on the prison floor, resembling a fragile autumn leaf descending with a surrender to the inevitable embrace of the cold, hard ground. No matter how her voice had risen in anger towards her mother in the meeting room, she knew very well that she wanted to read the contents of the letter in the envelope and discover the help Ethan Mark had promised her. "Would he file for my release?" "Has he bought me a home as a sign of my forgiveness?" "Would he take me back as his wife?" Different questions rushed through her mind like a tumultuous river, each query cascading over the other. As she held the envelope in her hand, she sat at the corner of her cell and stared at it much more closely. In this way, she saw that the surface of the envelope bore a faint trace of handling, like a blank canvas marked only by the weight of the untold. She also observed the edges, crisp
As Isabella saw her mother through the glass panel, her eyes first peered at her face, which was fresh and glowing like a sun-kissing morning, radiating warmth and vitality. Similarly, she observed her hair, cascading strands of silk, flowing effortlessly, resembling a gentle waterfall gracing a serene landscape.But if that were all, it would be a lie. She also noticed her dress, which was as beautiful as a field of blooming flowers, each petal a vibrant hue, creating a tapestry of elegance. Likewise, her neck, ears, and wrists were adorned with jewelry, resembling constellations adorning the night sky, each piece a sparkling star in the galaxy of her elegance.Taking in this perfect image of her mother, the thought immediately struck Isabella that her mother's current appearance was the complete inverse of hers—a mess in a uniform and in a confined space, akin to a wildflower struggling to bloom in a cramped garden bed."Been a while," Victoria Sinclair said again, immediately as Is
Like a fish forced to live in the desert for the crime she had committed, Isabella's prison days wove a bleak tapestry of monotony and despair. The cold, unforgiving reality of prison life left her yearning for freedom, with each passing moment feeling like an eternity. The absence of familiar faces and the pervasive loneliness created a profound sense of desolation that permeated every aspect of her existence.Most especially, the daily beatings from her tormentor, Elara Whitewind, resembled an unrelenting storm, leaving Isabella's spirit battered and broken, akin to a shipwreck in the tempest of her despair. This was the reason she wished she had never set foot in the prison yard, mess hall, or communal bathroom ever again.However, whether she wished to visit those places or not, prison protocol had to be followed, leaving her no choice but to be present even in the devil's face if the protocol demanded it.In the dimly lit mess hall, clattering trays and hushed conversations fille
Ethan said nothing in response to Mr. Alexander's words. Instead, as if he hadn't heard him, he seized a seat on the other side of the table and crossed his left leg over his right.Yet, this did not mean he spoke at this moment. The only sound was the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table, as if he were playing an invisible piano.In this manner, Ethan Mark exuded authority. Gazing calmly from Mr. Alexander's feet to the tangled mess of hair atop his head, he looked at him. With a serenity akin to the gentle flow of the Nile and a voice as soft as a satisfied dove contemplating a defeated jungle lion, he suddenly spoke."Kneel and apologize."Upon hearing these words, Mr. Alexander's eyes widened in shock. He never anticipated a day when he would be asked to kneel and beg for mercy, especially from the person he had always regarded as a poor bastard.Like an enslaved cat in the presence of a lion, Mr. Alexander fell to his knees as Ethan Mark instructed, pleading, "I was a ter
Seeing how bold, tall, and dangerous this prisoner appeared and observing his audacious manner of poking at him was akin to witnessing a prowling lion, confident in its dominance, taunting its prey before the impending strike. Mr. Alexander then immediately turned his back, attempting to escape from this menacing part of the communal bathroom like a startled deer seeking refuge from the looming threat in the dark forest. "I have to run," he muttered in total fright, his voice a tremor in the echoing silence, like a desperate whisper carried away by the chilling wind of impending danger. However, if his intention was for success, it was a futile hope. "And where do you think you are running to, huh?" Another prisoner said this behind him and pushed him forward like a pawn on the unforgiving chessboard of the prison's power dynamics. As Mr. Alexander was pushed forward, he witnessed how the older prisoners immediately surrounded him. He also noticed how they revealed smirks on their c
After speaking for hours, the man who had conversed with him advised Mr. Alexander to get some sleep. He emphasized the importance of having alert eyes to observe any unfortunate events that might occur in the morning. And with that, Mr. Alexander retreated to the corner of his cell once again, burying his head in his ankle like a ship seeking refuge in the harbor of solitude, sheltering itself from the tempest of the prison's harsh reality. He sat on the ground, succumbing to a haunted sleep. *** The next morning revealed Mr. Alexander as a mere specter of resilience, marked by the weariness of a night spent in the clutches of haunted dreams, like a tattered flag fluttering weakly after enduring the relentless storm of a sleepless night. His eyes, burdened with unrest, betrayed the toll of his surroundings. Disheveled strands of hair clung to his forehead, bearing witness to the restless hours entangled in unsettling dreams. As he rose from the dark corner of his cell, his eyes fir
"Long story, man," the man answered. However, if this was all he said, it was a lie. He began to unravel his own narrative, detailing how his legs became amputated and one of his hands irreparably broken and dislocated."You see, I entered this prison as a healthy man. My crimes weren't that significant. I robbed a bank because I couldn't bear to watch my daughter suffer. We hadn't eaten for days, and robbing the bank seemed like my only option." He took a deep sigh and continued talking."Yes, you guessed right. The mission was unsuccessful, and before I knew it, I was completely surrounded by the police. I had no guns, only a knife and a dagger. I never headed to the vault but collected pieces from each person I encountered in the bank. I just wanted to be able to feed my daughter and move on with life the next day.""While being surrounded, there was nothing more I could do than raise my hands in the air and let the police apprehend me. God knows it was the biggest mistake I ever m
Arriving at the prison, Mr. Alexander saw how the prison walls were imposing, resembling a fortress of despair that stood as a testament to the shadows of society. Certainly, he shook his head in regret, as he had never been to a place this horrible before.He observed cold steel bars, like sentinels of incarceration, confining notorious men whose stories were etched in the graffiti of hardened souls. Similarly, he noticed how the air hung heavy with the weight of regret, whispers of past misdeeds echoing through the dimly lit corridors.The sounds of his handcuffs tucked in chains down to his ankle made obvious sounds as he was escorted through the corridor harboring the cells of different notorious men by two prison officers whose faces lacked smiles, as if they hadn't smiled for many notorious years. Hence, he saw individuals behind these cells harboring untold secrets with their unappealing faces and frightful behaviors.Upon witnessing him and the others being escorted to their r
“Detective Sharon, we would love to ask you a few questions if you do not mind. We are sure this would help the public understand more of what is going on,” one reporter said immediately. “Alright, please go ahead. If this would help the general public understand more of what is going on, “Thank you, Detective Sharon. Now that Mr. Alexander, Mr. X, and Attorney Hughes have been sentenced to lengthy prison terms, and Attorney Reynolds is awaiting the outcome of his investigation before he is sentenced, do you think that would be the end of this deadly organization?” “Yes, Mr. X. Mr. Alexander Rosewood and Attorney Hughes have been sentenced to prison for a very long term, and if care is not taken, for life imprisonment. However, this is not the end of the organization. As you might already know, the deadly organization is a large organization that has penetrated every sector, which could even include the police, the prison officers, the legal system, and many more, which could even i