The cold hallway of the police station echoed with Daniel’s footsteps as he was led toward the holding area. He hadn’t slept. His mind had been a whirlwind ever since the confrontation at the precinct. He still couldn’t believe it—Lena, the woman he had defended, lived with, and trusted, was now sitting behind a locked door, accused of orchestrating a kidnapping.

He paused outside the interrogation room, staring at the closed door. Through the narrow window, he could see her—Lena, seated at a steel table, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her usual poise was gone. Her hair was messy, and her expression flickered between irritation and nervousness. She looked...