Chapter 1
Ethan Grant brought the police to me himself. There was no guilt in his eyes—only cold, shining relief.
"Sophie Lane... she's gone. You were the last person to see her." His voice shook not with grief, but with excitement.
The woman beside him was sobbing softly, leaning into his arms as if she might break. But when she glanced up at me, I caught a smug little smile tugging at her lips.
"Jessica Reed, how could you be so cruel? Even if you hate me, you shouldn't do that to me," she sobbed.
Together, they built the perfect prison for me, using public opinion and evidence to publicly crucify me and leave me drowning in shame.
They thought I was done for—a lawyer accused of murder, my reputation destroyed, with no hope of ever bouncing back.
But they didn't know I could carry myself with grace in calm days, and fight even more elegantly when the storm came.
Especially when I had nothing left to lose.
*****
The bubbles in my premium custom champagne bubbled up energetically in the crystal glass. I swirled it, watching the tiny bubbles burst one after another, like a silent party in my glass.
Today marked the third anniversary of our firm, and I, Jessica Reed, was turning thirty.
Thirty was often seen as an awkward milestone for women, but for me, it meant I had it all: a thriving career, a loving marriage, and everything falling perfectly into place.
I took a sip of champagne, the sweet liquid sliding down my throat, leaving the right touch of warmth.
Outside the office's floor-to-ceiling windows, the downtown skyline glittered like a river of stars, a dazzling display stretching as far as the eye could see.
All of this was my empire, built case by case.
My partner and bestie, Ruby Carter, sauntered over in a blazing red dress with a daring slit, wine glass in hand, and nudged me with her elbow.
"What are you staring at? Your business empire?" she teased.
She fluttered her perfectly lined eyes, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Ms. Reed, it's your big day. Stop acting like you're carrying the weight of the world. Come on, give me a smile."
I turned to her, her vibrant beauty lighting up the room, and her infectious grin made me laugh, too.
"I'm trying to figure out what kind of gift to get my man," I said.
I waved my phone around, showing a selfie of Ethan and me. His gentle smile and handsome features looked even softer in the sunlight.
Today was both our wedding anniversary and my birthday. After the firm's celebration, I still had to head home for some quality time.
"Oh, here we go again," Ruby teased, rubbing her arms in an exaggerated way. "Jessica, can't you spare some of that fire you use on everyone else for him?
"You've been married five years, and you're still acting like you're in the honeymoon phase. Doesn't it ever get old?"
"You wouldn't understand," I said, slipping my phone away, not even noticing the hint of pride in my voice. "Ethan's not like the others."
Ethan really was different.
I was the type who was always grinding in the world of power and money, chasing deals and status. But Ethan was an artist—a painter with a gentle soul, nothing like me.
He was clean, genuine, and the only softness I had in this cold, unforgiving world.
We were college classmates, and I was the one who pursued him. After graduation, I built my law firm, and he opened his art studio. I was the breadwinner, and he was the homemaker—clear roles, no drama, only harmony between us.
To everyone we knew, Ethan was the perfect husband—and honestly, he was my greatest conquest.
"Okay, okay, he's different. He's your Mr. Right," Ruby said, rolling her eyes with a smirk.
She raised her glass, still teasing. "To your Mr. Right—and to all the cash we're raking in!"
"Cheers," I replied.
Our glasses clinked, and I threw back my champagne in one smooth gulp.
Right then, the thick wooden office door slammed open, and a group of uniformed cops marched in, faces stone-cold, their eyes scanning the room like hawks.
The party vibe froze instantly—every head turned, all eyes locked on the intruders.
I frowned, set my glass aside, and stepped up. As the host, it was on me to handle this.
"Officers, is there something you need?" I said.
My voice stayed polite, but there was a clear edge to it. "This is a private party, so unless it's something urgent..."
The lead cop looked pretty young, with a square jaw and an honest, no-nonsense stare.
He glanced at me, then checked the photo in his hand, before fixing his gaze right on my face.
"Are you Jessica Reed?" he asked.
"That's me," I replied.
He didn't say another word. Instead, he pulled out a pair of cold handcuffs from behind him and dangled them in front of my eyes.
The silver handcuffs caught the light, their cold gleam standing out sharply in the glittering office.
"Ms. Reed, you're suspected of assault resulting in death. We need you to come with us for further investigation," he said.
His voice wasn't loud, but in the dead silence of the office, it hit like a thunderclap.
I froze, my mind going completely blank.
Assault? Death?
I'd only ever seen those words in case files and courtrooms. How could they possibly be associated with my name?
Ruby was the first to react. She stepped in front of me, blocking the cops, and said sharply, "You've got the wrong person. She's been with us all night. There are dozens of witnesses here."
"We don't need to explain ourselves to you," the young cop replied, expression blank and unyielding. He sidestepped Ruby and came straight to me. "Ms. Reed, please cooperate."
The cold handcuffs snapped shut around my wrists.
The icy touch of the handcuffs shot right through me, chilling me to the core.
Two cops grabbed me, one on each side, and marched me out.
As I passed the colleagues and clients who'd been laughing and celebrating with me, their faces were plain as day—shock, contempt, and even a bit of smug satisfaction at my downfall.
People, huh. What a piece of work.
It wasn't until I was escorted out of the firm and saw the man standing by the police car, his face filled with anxious sorrow, that my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.