CHAPTER 23: HANSEL: THE RELIEF I DIDN’T DESERVE.

I turned to stare at Andrew like he’d developed a second head. "What else?" I shrugged. "Come, we’re going to bail Naya out."

"That much is clear," Andrew sighed. "But why? A million dollars isn’t a few hundred. That’s a lot of money."

"Sir, please come to your senses," Mina stepped forward. "We have so many financial obligations for this month, you shouldn’t be doing this."

"Enough." The word came out as a command, and Mina’s mouth snapped shut. "I don’t want to hear another word against Naya. Do you understand?"

She stared at me, something ugly flickering across her face before she masked it. "Yes, Mr Ward."

My phone rang, and it was Lucas.

"Central precinct," he said when I answered. "They’re holding her on civil charges. Bail is set at twenty thousand, but she’d still owe the full amount to the hospital."

"I’m on my way," I said. "Thank you."

As soon as the call ended, I turned to Andrew. "C’mon, let’s go."

I headed for the door, Andrew falling into step beside me.

"You know this changes things, right?" he said quietly. "Once you do this, once you pay off her debts and bail her out, you can’t pretend you don’t care about her anymore."

I didn’t answer him; there was no way I could explain this feeling to anyone, much less Andrew.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the Central Precinct. I pushed through the front doors with Andrew at my heels, and immediately, the desk sergeant’s eyes went wide with recognition.

"Mr Ward," he stammered, nearly dropping the papers he’d been holding. "Sir, if you’ll just wait one moment, I’ll get the Chief..."

"That won’t be necessary," I said, moving past him toward the back offices. "I know where I’m going."

A door opened before I could reach it, and a heavyset man in his fifties came out, his face breaking into what he probably thought was a welcoming smile but looked more like he’d just spotted a cash machine. Chief Connor, according to the nameplate on his door.

"Mr Ward! What an unexpected pleasure. Please, come into my office, we can discuss—"

"No," I stopped in front of him, close enough that he had to tilt his head back slightly to meet my eyes. "I’m not here for small talk or pleasantries. I’m here about Naya Rivers. She was arrested and brought here on orders from Luxford Memorial Hospital’s director, correct?"

The Chief’s smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, flashing a polite smile at me. "Ah, yes. Ms Rivers failed to comply with the payment schedule on two separate occasions. She’s been held for defaulting and will be charged in court tomorrow morning."

"Where is the hospital director now?" I asked, already scanning the lobby for anyone who might fit the description.

"That would be me."

The voice came from behind me, and I turned to see a middle-aged man in an expensive suit stepping forward from where he’d apparently been waiting near the entrance. He had the look of someone who’d spent his career valuing money over people.

The kind of administrator who saw patients as profit margins and medical emergencies as billing opportunities.

"Pete," he said, extending his hand with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m the director of Luxford Memorial Hospital, and you must be Hansel Ward. I’ve heard a lot about you."

I didn’t take his hand; I just gave him a cold assessment that used to make people nervous. "How much does Naya Rivers owe your hospital?"

He blinked, apparently thrown by my directness. "I’m sorry?"

"How much," I repeated slowly, like I was talking to a child, "does she owe? I’ll write you a check right now."

Pete stared at me for several seconds, his mouth slightly open. "You’ll pay off her debts? The full amount?" he sounded shocked.

"Yes," I nodded. "Is there a problem?"

"Mr Ward," he chuckled slightly, scratching his face. "I don’t think you realise how much she owes. Her mother, before she died, had been at the hospital for three years, and within those three years, none of the bill was paid."

I felt my jaw tighten with irritation. "Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear me the first time? Write out the amount. I don’t have all the time in the world."

"I—yes, of course, I just—" He fumbled in his briefcase, pulling out a folder with shaking hands. His fingers rifled through papers until he found what he was looking for—a billing statement that he thrust toward me like it was a winning lottery ticket. "The total outstanding balance is eight hundred and forty-seven thousand, three hundred and twelve dollars. That includes the original medical costs, late fees, interest, and the administrative costs associated with pursuing legal action."

I didn’t even look at the paper. Just turned to Andrew, who was already holding my chequebook and a pen. I wrote the amount without hesitation, then signed with a flourish before ripping it out and handing it to Pete.

"There," I said. "Now she doesn’t owe you a single cent. And I expect all charges to be dropped immediately."

Pete stared at the check like he couldn’t quite believe it was real, his hands trembling slightly as he held it. "This is—Mr. Ward, this is extraordinarily generous. I’ll make sure all the paperwork is processed first thing in the morning—"

"Not in the morning. Now." I turned to the Chief, who’d been watching the whole exchange with interest. "Bring Ms Rivers out, I’m taking her home."

The Chief nodded quickly. "Of course, Mr Ward. But first, we need to handle the bail legalities. There are forms that need to be signed, processing fees—"

"I’ll handle it." Andrew stepped forward, pulled out his business card, and handed it to the Chief. "Andrew Cady, Mr Ward’s legal representative. If you’ll show me the necessary paperwork, I can expedite the process."

The Chief nodded and gestured to the officers at the front desk, who immediately started pulling out forms and typing rapidly on their computers. I could hear Andrew’s voice behind me as he dealt with whatever bureaucratic nonsense was required to get Naya released, but I’d stopped paying attention to the specifics.

All I could think about was that she was here, somewhere in this building, probably scared and alone and thinking no one was coming for her.

It took fifteen minutes that felt like fifteen hours. I paced the lobby while Andrew handled the paperwork, ignoring Pete’s attempts at conversation and the Chief’s offers of coffee or a more comfortable place to wait. I didn’t want comfort. I wanted Naya out of whatever cell they’d stuck her in.

Finally, I heard the heavy door leading to the holding area creak open. Footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond, and then she appeared.

The restlessness that had been clawing at my chest for hours—that frantic, desperate energy that had driven me here in the middle of the night, suddenly stopped—just ceased completely, like someone had flipped a switch. In its place came something else, something softer that I didn’t quite know how to name.

Relief. That’s what it was—pure, overwhelming relief.

But looking at her, that relief was quickly joined by guilt.

Naya looked like she’d been through hell. The elegant dress I’d provided for the fundraiser was ruined. The fabric clung to her in damp, wrinkled patches where the rain had soaked through, and there were dark smudges of dirt along the hem and across one shoulder. Her hair, which had been styled so carefully for the event, hung in tangled waves around her face. Her makeup was smeared, black streaks of mascara tracking down her cheeks like she’d been crying for hours.

She walked slowly, her shoulders hunched forward like she was trying to make herself smaller, and she wouldn’t look up at anyone. Just kept her eyes fixed on the floor as the officer guided her through the lobby.

But the moment her eyes landed on me—

Her eyes went wide with shock. Her mouth opened slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words.

For a moment, we just stared at each other across the police station lobby. I wanted to say something, to at least apologise for the things I’d said at the fundraiser, and tell her she didn’t have to worry about the medical bills anymore because I’d taken care of them.

But the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in my throat, blocked by years of learning to keep my emotions locked down tight where they couldn’t be used against me.

So instead, I turned to Andrew. "Handle it from here," I said, my voice coming out colder than I’d intended. "Make sure all the paperwork is properly filed. I want confirmation that the charges have been dropped and the debt is cleared before we leave."

"Of course," Andrew said with a smirk.

I gestured to my driver, who’d been waiting near the entrance. "Bring Miss Rivers to the car. I’ll be waiting."

Then I turned and walked out of the building without looking back or seeing Naya’s reaction to my abrupt departure