The Marriage Swap || ON HOLD TILL SEPTEMBER

9 | 𝙳𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

If you were drowning at a sea, I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe. That's a song lyric. But I want you to know I've got you, little brother.

~notes from Axel's brother.

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☘︎ Axᴇʟ Hᴇʀɴᴀɴᴅᴇᴢ ☘︎

The runaway is a walking disaster.

Nothing else could define the situation of being interrupted during reviewing an important case on my enemy, by an unlikely phone call at near midnight.

With the precise words, "This is Officer Groove speaking from Paris Police Department, on 525 High Street. We have a Mrs Eve Hernandez under arrest for act of disrupt in public, being caught having a fist fight with a group of thugs. Since she's in no condition to speak, we're contacting you as her listed attorney."

"Do I look like I'm in a coma? I'm in every condition to speak, mind you!" A high-pitched, slurred voice yells in the background, very much belonging to the woman I happen to have married. Furthermore, she sounds drunk.

"We request you to arrive at the soonest, she's very uncooperative and is creating a nuisance." The officer asserts in frustration.

"Uncooperative? Excuse me, I don't see you calling those idiots in the other cell a nuisance! I demand justice and then I will co-operate!" Her words are so dragged and drowsy, like how one would sound high on drugs.

The documents of various cases that had been filed on Michael Lee Voroski but somehow pushed under the rug during the legal procedure, remain sprawled over the Swietenia Mahagony desk in front of me. I'd been studying the cases thoroughly so when my grandfather finally hands over my inheritance a month from now, I can issue each of them for re-trial. With the help of the top-notch lawyers working in the law firm I'd inherit, attacking Voroski from all sides isn't a hard task. Only now my work has to wait.

A sigh escapes my lips as I rub the bridge of my nose. I'm not even surprised she didn't listen to me for once and remained back at home until I had her security team appointed. It just happens to be a universal fact at this point that Eve invites trouble wherever she goes. Regardless, I have no choice in the situation than to get her out of it.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." I let the officer know before he could answer Eve, causing her to argue further and make bailing her out difficult. Officer Groove grunts in agreement, disconnecting the call.

Rising from the chair, I make a quick work of fixing the cufflinks on my wrist and buttoning the top buttons of my shirt I'd left open while working. Pulling on the Tom Ford suit jacket over my crisp black shirt after grabbing it from the leather chair it was draped on, my footsteps proceed to venture out of the office in determined strides.

There's no reason to lock the premise, considering no other soul than me is working in the entire skyscraper building. Not because the employees left early, but because I don't have employees. Or rather no one wished to work with me, knowing who I am.

But for the sake of precaution, I enable the digitalized lock system Tori created.

...

The journey of getting into the Aston Martin DBS awaiting in the parking lot, fastening the seat belt and driving onto the Paris streets happens in a sequence of actions where I constantly refrain myself from pulling my hair. Within minutes, I'm greeted by the tall, white-brick building with the words Préfecture De Police engraved in black marble.