Page 27 of The Mood Board

Chapter 11

Liam

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HOW THE HELL HAD Igotten here?

The question kept turning around and around in my head, which I had sunk into my hands as I leaned forward, nearly double, trying to block out the sights and sounds around me. As if this could somehow be a bad dream, and I would wake up in a moment and find myself in bed, Bailey beside me.

How the hell had I gotten here?

It was ridiculous, right? A nightmare. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong—our lawyers and accountants had been reviewing all the paperwork, and they hadn’t found a thing. There was no way the police or FBI or whoever had written the letter could have found something.

Right?

Except I was in jail, waiting on my lawyer and arraignment. I had been fingerprinted and booked, those awful booking photos taken that would end up plastered all over the news. I was sure I looked shell-shocked in them because that was precisely how I felt.

One moment I had been sitting with Bailey on the couch, and the next, I had been in the middle of processing, told flatly to turn, and turn, and turn again as a flash blinded me.

This had to be a nightmare.

Worse, the questioning had been humiliating. From the way the detective had interacted with me, he obviously already felt I was guilty—he was just trying to get me to admit it. Except that I had nothing at all to confess and never would because I hadn’t done anything wrong. But my pleas for him to believe me had fallen on deaf ears until they had finally brought me back to this harsh, empty jail cell where the only person I had to sit with was myself and my wildly spinning thoughts.

Worse yet, he told me that no one could reach my lawyer, and my one call had gone to his voicemail. The officer escorting me from the phone only gave me a thin-mouthed look of disdain when I asked for another call and shut the cell door with a resounding clang.

How the hell had I gotten here?

None of this made any sense. Only a few weeks ago, everything had been smooth and stable. Then someone had sent Bailey that anonymous letter, and nothing had been the same since.

This had to have something to do with that letter—it was too coincidental not to.

Someone was trying to take me down. I just wished I could figure out who.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have rivals—I was getting ready to expand my billion-dollar tech business in a highly-competitive and lucrative corner of the market. Of course, I had rivals. But I didn’t think any of them would stoop so low as to drum up fake charges against me or possibly even fake evidence.

I tried but failed to think of any one of my competitors who would go so far—it hadn’t been done before, as far as I knew.

I was trying to keep my optimism up, but it was difficult here, alone, with only bare concrete walls around me. I hadn’t felt this way since I thought I had lost my chance with Bailey. Maybe since my mother had died.

Even as a teenager, I hadn’t sunk into my grief—it wasn’t how my parents had taught my siblings and me to face life and all its challenges. I hadn’t fallen into depression or anxiety or cursed the universe and wondered why it had happened to me.

That hadn’t meant, however, I hadn’t felt the loss of my mother deeply, so deeply that sometimes it had been difficult to breathe. The possible loss of Bailey, too, had nearly knocked me from my feet. It had certainly knocked the wind from me.

This was different. This had left me reeling and stunningly hollow in a way nothing else had. Even I was having trouble looking on the bright side or finding the silver lining. All I had to go on was hope that this would all turn out okay, that they would realize I was innocent before any real damage was done. Well, just finding me innocent would be okay for a start, especially since it was the truth.

Worse, there was nothing I could do but sit here and wait for others to act. I had no doubt Bailey was doing whatever she could, and she had most likely called Tom. I knew both of them would likely be on the warpath for me.

I thought about what I had seen as they had led me down the stairs, Bailey standing in the entryway of the house, her eyes wide and round, face ghostly pale, staring after me. The sight had broken my heart—it was still breaking my heart. She didn’t deserve to be in the middle of this.

Whatever it was, it was about me and my company.

Was someone trying to keep us from expanding? Because there was little chance we would find international funding now, not with the stink of dishonesty hanging over the company and me.

“Mr. Bradford.”

I raised my head to see an officer standing on the other side of the door, watching me impassively.

“You have a visitor.”