Our Bodyguard|18+

Nine

My legal representative, Kenna, stays with me as I finish the paperwork for an official release. I'm still floating in clouds, unsure how exactly they've managed to prove my innocence. Kenna will have to tell me everything once we're out of here. Something I'm looking forward to.

"Excuse me, I need to take this call." Kenna gets up with her ringing phone, leaving me and Smith alone.

He takes a seat, holding some papers.

"You believed me yet you didn't want to believe me," I say quietly while studying his interesting profile.

A middle-aged man trapped in a young body. Small in frame, but sturdy in appeal. I'm still figuring out where to put him. Now more than ever, I need allies. And mostly, I need to recognize whom to recruit and whom to discard.

I need my own army. Legal and illegal.

"I was only doing my job. Being biased is a luxury I can't afford and I'm not expecting you to understand me." After a moment of silence on his part he finally says this. "Sign here. And here. You'll get your things in a short moment and you'll be free to go. I'm sorry for what you've gone through. Believe it or not, it was nothing personal."

I sit straight, my eyes still on his sharp ones. A smile tugs at my lips and slowly I do as he says. It's my release and promissory notes—which means I'm now free from the murder charges, but the case is still open and so I can't leave the country without any notification.

"If you say so." I put my signatures with so much relief inside. "Done." Sighing, I put the pen down and stand up.

"All the best, Mia. And rest assured that we're doing our best to find out who's responsible for Anne's death," he says curtly.

"Please do. Mainly because whoever killed her is the same person who framed me. They need to pay." No mercy finds my voice.

I'm done being a good girl. Even though I find it hard to believe that Anne is really dead, I'm not gonna grief about it. No, I refuse to even think about it because my own life is a big mess and I have a lot to fix.

"Okay," Smith mutters.

"I have a favor to ask you," I tell him before I go. He nods stiffly. "I need a police escort to go to my husband's house. I want to get my things peacefully and I believe I have the right to do so. Can you provide me with that?"

With everything going on, the last thing I want is a fight with Patrick that may ruin my chances in the divorce procedure. I want to remain as calm as possible during this time, and for that I'll play by the law so as to have it on my side.

"Why would you need a police escort to get your things at your own house?" Smith looks intrigued, eyes squinted quizzically.

"It's a private matter, Detective. Will I get an escort or not? It's only a favor I'm asking for," I remark.

After a heavy sigh, he simply says, "Okay, Mia. Tell me when and I'll arrange someone to escort you."

"Thank you. But I want it today. Right now," I state. Yes, I'll go straight to the mansion when I leave this place. He nods affirmatively. "And I need to make a call. Can I have your phone?" Mine is with my mom, according to Kenna.

Despite the condescending look he gives me—a mixture of stupor and wonder—he smoothly tucks his mobile from the breast pocket of his denim shirt and hands it to me. I make a quick call to Butler Lucas and instruct for my thighs to be packed.

All of my things..

When Kenna returns it's our time to go. At each step I take outside this precinct, I wonder what would've happened if they took me to prison as they intended. Surely it would've been ugly for me, but now I can fix that. I'll fix every broken thing.