My Husband Owns Your Precinct

It was the Labor Day weekend rush when my car got rear-ended just before the toll plaza.

When I went to the police precinct on Monday to sort out the paperwork, the entitled jerk who hit me didn't even bother to apologize. Instead, he whistled at the Porsche crest on my steering wheel.

Hey, gorgeous. Sugar daddy buy this for you? Give me your number. I'll cover the repairs, and maybe we can grab dinner tonight. My treat.

He reached out, his fingers brushing toward my cheek, but before he could touch me, a large, calloused hand clamped around his wrist like a vice.

With a sharp click, a pair of silver handcuffs slammed onto the metal desk.

Lieutenant Willie, sharp in his tailored dress blues, stared him down with a gaze that could freeze water.

"Hit-and-run coupled with sexual harassment. You can have your dinner in a holding cell."

The guy's knees practically buckled.

Willie turned to me. When he spoke, his voice softened, carrying an almost pleading tone. "Are you okay? Did he scare you? Wait until my shift endsI'll drive you home."

The nearby officers stared, their jaws practically dropping. After all, Lieutenant Willie was famously cold, a man who kept everyone at arm's length.

I pulled a wet wipe from my bag, meticulously cleaning the sleeve where the man's fingers had brushed against my coat. I didn't even look up.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but my husband is already on his way to pick me up."

Willies face went entirely bloodless.

I suppose hed forgotten. Three years ago, he was the one who pushed me down a flight of stairs, causing the miscarriage that ended our babys life, before telling me to get the hell out of his.

The air in the precinct lobby seemed to freeze solid.

Willies towering frame went rigid. He stared at my hands as I wiped my sleeve, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths.

"Paula. What did you just say?"

I tossed the used wipe into the nearby trash can. "You're too young to be losing your hearing, Lieutenant." I finally met his eyes, my gaze perfectly flat. "I said, my husband is on his way."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins tracing hard, angry lines over his knuckles. He took a step toward me, reaching out.

"Paula, stop this. Please." His voice was a tight whisper. "I know you're still angry about what happened three years ago. But making up a marriage just to hurt me? It's childish."

I took a step back, effortlessly slipping out of his reach.

The sheer arrogance of himbelieving with absolute certainty that I was still desperately in love with himturned my stomach. Three years apart, and his ego hadn't shrunk an inch.

Before I could tell him exactly where to go, a soft, delicate voice drifted from around the corner.

"Willie, honey, I warmed up your tea for your stomach."

Una stepped into the lobby, holding a stainless steel thermos. She was wearing an oversized police patrol jacket over her shouldersWillies jacket, obviouslywhich made her look impossibly small and fragile.

When she saw me, her steps faltered.

A flicker of genuine panic crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a thin, triumphant smile.

"Paula? Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?" She hurried over to Willie, her hand wrapping naturally, possessively around his forearm. "Its been three years. How have you been?"

I stared coldly at her hand on his sleeve.

Three years ago, those same hands had clutched at Willies collar, painting her as the ultimate victim. And because she looked so helpless, Willie had lost his mind. With bloodshot eyes, he had shoved me backward.

We were in our second year of marriage. I was three months pregnant.

As the warm, terrifying rush of blood ran down my legs, he was already lifting a "fainting" Una into his arms, racing toward the ambulance without looking back.

The woman named Paula died on that cold hardwood floor that night.

"I'm here to file an accident report," I said, my voice empty of any feeling. "It has nothing to do with either of you."

Una glanced out the window at the gleaming black Porsche parked in the precinct lot. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh, wow. A Porsche. Paula, you used to save up for months just to buy a nice handbag. What kind of job did you get after you and Willie split? How can you afford something like that now?"

She blinked her wide, innocent eyes, but her voice was pitched perfectly to carry across the quiet lobby.

The desk officers began whispering among themselves, their glances shifting from me to each other. Even Bradthe guy who had rear-ended mesmirked, sensing a vulnerability he could exploit.

"Told you so," Brad sneered. "A girl that young driving a hundred-thousand-dollar car? Definitely riding some old guy's wallet."

Willie snapped his head toward him, his eyes murderous. "Say one more word, and I'll make sure you spend the next five years in county jail."

Brad shrunk back, instantly silencing himself.

Willie turned back to me, his brow heavily furrowed. He took in my tailored silk dress, then looked out at the luxury car.

"Paula, what have you been doing with your life these past three years?" His voice was thick with a self-righteous sort of grief. "You used to have so much pride. Why are you throwing your dignity away just to spite me?"

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I pulled the police report from my clutch.

"My money is clean, Willie. If your mind is too filthy to imagine a woman earning her own living, I suggest you get professional help."

I turned to take the paperwork to the claims desk, but Una suddenly let go of Willies arm and blocked my path. Her eyes were already rimmed with red, tears spilling down her cheeks on cue.

"Paula, please don't be mad at Willie. Hes just worried about you. What happened back then... it was my fault. I shouldn't have let my heart condition get in the way. If you still hate me, you can hit me, you can scream at me. But please, don't ruin your life with some old married man just to get back at him."

She sobbed softly, putting on a masterful performance of a concerned sister trying to save a fallen woman.

The murmurs in the lobby grew louder. The stares felt like a hundred tiny, poison-tipped needles pricking at my back.

I watched her performance with an empty expression. She had perfected this routine years ago. Back then, all it took was a single tear for Willie to abandon all logic and take her side.

I raised my hand, intending to push past her shoulder.

But Willie was already moving. He lunged forward, throwing his arm in front of Una, shielding her from me.

"Paula, what are you doing?" he barked, his eyes filled with defensive hostility. "Una has a congenital heart defect. She can't handle stress. You already hurt her onceare you trying to repeat what happened three years ago?"

Looking at his fierce, protective stance, a cold wave of absurdity washed over me.

Three years ago.

Una had come to our apartment while Willie was on shift, smirking, telling me how he had spent the previous night holding her hand at the hospital. I did nothing but tell her to get out.

She had immediately collapsed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her chest, pretending to gasp for air.

When Willie burst through the door, he didn't even look at me. He just shoved me out of his way to get to her. I went flying backward, tumbling down the steep wooden steps. He never gave me a chance to explain. He had already pronounced me guilty.

"Willie, if you aren't using your eyes, you should donate them," I said, staring at his protective huddle. "I didn't even touch her. What are you screaming for?"

Una shrank behind his back, her fingers clutching the hem of his uniform. "Willie, don't blame Paula. She was just moving her hand. My heart is fine... please don't fight with her because of me."

Her soft-spoken act made me look like an unhinged harpy.

Willies expression softened as he spoke to her, but when he turned back to me, his face hardened with deep disappointment.

"You've changed, Paula. You used to be stubborn, but you were never this cruel. Look at you nowdripping in designer clothes, bitter, cold. Where is the girl I fell in love with?"

He was trying to use his moral high ground to crush me. I didn't even want to argue. I moved to walk around them.

At that moment, the glass doors of the precinct burst open.

A heavy-set woman in her mid-fifties stormed in like a heat-seeking missile. It was Brad's mother.

The moment she saw Brad standing by the desk, she rushed over, wailing and clutching his face. Brad, seeing his backup arrive, immediately pointed a finger at me.

"Ma, thats her. The bitch in the Porsche. Shes demanding I pay for everything, and shes got this cop trying to lock me up."

The woman spun around, her eyes locking onto me with pure venom. She marched over, thrusting a manicured finger directly in my face.

"You're the little home-wrecker bullying my son? You think because you drive a Porsche you're special? God knows how many men you had to sleep with to buy that car! Drop the charges right now, or I'll tear that fake face of yours off!"

She lunged at me, clawing. I stepped back quickly, her nails narrowly missing my cheek.

Two desk officers rushed forward to pull her back. The lobby dissolved into chaos.

I was backed into the corner near a filing cabinet, my jaw clenched.

Willie stepped between me and the shouting woman. "Ma'am, watch your language. This is a police station, not a circus."

His voice was firm, finally displaying a sliver of his authority.

But the woman didn't care. Seeing his uniform, she threw herself onto the floor and began to wail.

"Police brutality! The cops are taking the side of a high-class whore over tax-paying citizens!"

Her shrieks echoed off the tiled walls.

Una, seeing her cue, suddenly clutched her chest, leaning heavily against the drywall.

"Willie... my chest. It hurts... I can't breathe..."

Instantly, Willies attention snapped away from the screaming woman. He grabbed Una by the shoulders, panic written all over his face.

"Una? Do you have your inhaler? Your pills?"

Una shook her head weakly, looking at the crying mother and son with watery eyes.

"Willie, they look so desperate. Paula has so much money... the repair bill is nothing to her. Why is she doing this to them? Why is she ruining their lives?"

Though her voice was weak, it carried clearly across the room.

The mother on the floor picked up on it instantly. "See? Even the officer's family knows what's right!"

Willie looked from a distressed Una to me, trapped in the corner. He let out a long, heavy sigh and walked over to me.

"Paula, please. Just apologize to them and drop the claim. Una needs a quiet environment. If this keeps up, shes going to have an attack."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Willie wanted me to apologize to a man who had hit my car and sexually harassed me? All so his darling, fragile "little sister" could have a quiet room to recover in?

I stared at him, feeling a wave of physical nausea.

"Willie, are you out of your mind?" My voice shook, but I kept it sharp. "Im the one who got hit. Im the one who was harassed. Im the one being screamed at by his mother. And you, a police officer, are telling me to apologize to the people who did this?"

My knuckles turned white as I gripped my bag.

Willies frown deepened. He stepped closer, dropping his voice so only I could hear.

"Paula, I know you've been wronged here. But these people are trash. If you keep fighting them, you're the one who'll end up looking bad. I'll write you a personal check for the repairs. Just let it go, okay? Stop making a scene."

That condescending tonelike he was doing me a favorwas the final match thrown onto a lifetime of dry tinder.

He had always been like this. Every time Una targeted me, he would tell me to take the high road, to be the bigger person. Because I was his wife, I was expected to swallow every insult to feed his savior complex.

"Keep your charity to yourself," I said, shoving his reaching hand away. "They are paying for every cent of damage. And I'm not apologizing to anyone."

I turned to leave. The air in this room felt toxic.

But as I went to pass Una, her knees buckled again. She went limp, falling directly toward me.

I tried to dodge, but her hands clamped onto my purse strap with surprising, desperate strength.

With a loud rip, my bag was torn from my grip and crashed to the floor. Lipsticks, keys, and a deep blue velvet box spilled across the linoleum.

The brass latch on the box popped open.

A flawless pink diamond ring rolled out, catching the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct.

Gideon had bought it at a private auction in London. It was one of a kind.

Una hit the floor hard, landing directly on top of my things.

"Ow!" she squealed, scrambling to sit up.

As she scrambled, the sharp metal heel of her boot ground directly into the face of the pink diamond.

The sound of metal scratching stone made my heart stop.

I pushed her aside with a force I didn't know I possessed, dropping to my knees. I scooped up the ring.

The once-perfect, brilliant surface of the diamond now had a jagged, deep scratch running across the face, and the platinum band was slightly warped.

Gideon had placed this on my finger. I rarely wore it, terrified of losing it. I had only tucked it safely into my bag today because of the accident.

My hands shook as I squeezed it in my palm. I stood up, staring down at Una.

Sensing the sheer rage in my eyes, Una shrank back, tears streaming down her face.

"Paula, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I just got dizzy... please don't look at me like you want to kill me. You're scaring me."

Willie immediately stepped in front of her, pulling her into his arms. He looked at the warped ring in my hand, a flicker of shock crossing his eyes. Even a novice could tell that stone was worth a fortune.

But he quickly masked it, pulling his wallet out and slamming a black credit card onto the desk.

"Its just a ring, Paula. Una apologized. Are you going to keep badgering her until she collapses? Theres fifty grand on this card. Go buy yourself a better one."

The absolute arrogance of his gesture felt like a blunt knife sawing at my chest. I looked at the card on the table and let out a cold laugh.

"You think your petty cash can fix this, Willie? You couldn't afford this ring in ten lifetimes."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Gideon's private number.

It rang twice before he picked up. His deep, velvet voice filled my ear, instantly soothing.

"Hey, sweetheart. Are you finished?"

"Gideon," I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. "Someone broke my wedding ring. And they're telling me it doesn't matter."

The line went dead silent for a beat.

Then, I heard a cold, quiet chuckle that made my spine tingle.

"Stay right where you are," Gideon said. "I'd like to see who in Chicago thinks they can touch my wife's things and get away with it."

I hung up the phone.

Carefully placing the damaged pink diamond back into the velvet box, I slipped it into my coat pocket.

Willie watched the soft, familiar tone I had used with Gideon, his face turning an ugly shade of gray. A bitter, mocking laugh escaped his lips as he took a step toward me.

"Paula. Are you seriously playing make-believe now? You hired some actor to pretend to be your husband just to get a rise out of me?"

He reached out, trying to grab the box from my pocket.

I was ready. I slapped his hand away, stepping back. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands."

Una watched this from the floor, a tiny spark of excitement dancing in her eyes. She scrambled up and grabbed Willies sleeve, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy.

"Willie, please don't be mad at Paula. Maybe she... maybe she really hit hard times after the divorce. That's why shes doing this... selling herself to some old businessman. Don't you have friends in the Vice division? Maybe they can help her get out of that life."

Every word was designed to paint me as a high-class call girl.

Brads mother joined in instantly, barking a laugh. "I knew it! A cheap streetwalker. Officer, you should lock her up for soliciting! Shes a public nuisance!"

Willies face was dark. He stared at me, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and jealousy burning in his eyes.

"Paula, you're coming with me."

He grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight my bones practically clicked under the pressure.

"We are going somewhere quiet, and you are going to tell me exactly what you've been doing these past three years. If you need money, I'll give it to you. Just stop humiliating yourself in public."

He began dragging me toward the exit.

The sheer, arrogant force of it was exactly like three years ago, when he had tried to force me onto my knees to apologize to Una.

I struggled, my heels screeching against the polished tile floor.

"Let go of me, Willie! My husband is coming! This is kidnapping!"

I grabbed the doorframe with my free hand, the wood scraping under my nails. But Willie didn't care. He was entirely trapped in his own delusions, convinced I had ruined my life just to hurt him.

"You're getting in the car, Paula."

He dragged me out into the gravel parking lot. But just as he opened the door of his unmarked Ford patrol sedan, a deafening engine roar shattered the afternoon quiet.

A sleek, custom black Rolls-Royce Phantom tore into the precinct lot.

The driver swung the massive car around, the tires screaming and kicking up a cloud of grey dust and white smoke. The Rolls-Royce came to a halt inches from Willies patrol car, completely blocking him in.

The desk officers and half the people in the lobby ran outside to see what was happening.

The heavy rear door of the Rolls-Royce clicked open.

A pair of immaculate, hand-crafted leather shoes stepped onto the gravel.

Gideon stepped out of the car. He was wearing a charcoal, bespoke three-piece suit that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders. He was tall, striking, with sharp features and a quiet, terrifying gravity that only came from holding immense power.

The midday sun caught the hard lines of his jaw.

Gideon Blackstone. The undisputed king of Chicagos financial elite.

His dark, piercing eyes swept over the crowd and locked onto Willies hand, which was still gripping my bruised wrist.

The temperature in the parking lot seemed to drop thirty degrees.

Gideon walked toward us, his strides slow, deliberate, and heavy. With every step he took, the air grew tighter.

Willie froze, seemingly paralyzed by the raw, dangerous aura radiating from the man. His grip on my wrist loosened slightly.

Gideon stopped directly in front of us, looking down at Willie like he was looking at dust on his shoe.

He parted his lips, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed across the concrete lot:

"Let go of my wife."