CHAPTER 32: ARROGANT IMAGE & ILLUSION

After the call, Erisia slipped into an outfit Rita had given her—one she’d worn only once: a beige-and-white plaid jacket layered over a cropped white top, paired with high-waisted beige pants and white sneakers. She bent to pet Rein, who answered with a chirp, and ensured that the food and water bowls were filled. With the kitten taken care of, she locked the door behind her and hailed a cab.

The ride was quiet, city streets buzzing in the late morning sun. By the time she arrived at the police station, the familiar hum of activity greeted her—the shuffle of papers, phones ringing, officers striding across the floor. She greeted a few of the officers she’d interacted with the day before; polite nods and quick smiles passed between them.

Her presence didn’t go unnoticed. A few heads turned—some curious. Officer Ramirez saw the exchange and gestured her down the hall. "Detective Tyler’s in his cubicle," he said kindly.

Following the direction, Erisia wound her way past rows of desks until she spotted Tyler. He sat in his corner, back leaning against the chair as he typed on the keyboard.

"Ms. Erisia," he greeted as soon as he noticed her, rising slightly from his chair. "Glad you came."

He stood up and led Erisia to the observation room where a one-way glass stretched across the entire wall in front of them, giving a clear view into the interrogation room. Inside, Razor was now cuffed to the table, his head thrown back as he slouched in the chair.

Detective Tyler began explaining everything to Erisia—how the arrest warrant was approved the previous night, how they’d gone to Razor’s apartment that morning, and how Razor had attempted to bolt, chasing him down himself and dragging him back for interrogation, then listed the evidence and suspicious items they’d recovered from his home.

They only remained in the observation room for a few minutes. It was obvious from Erisia’s expression that she wasn’t interested in Razor. Her disinterest radiated plainly; her gaze never lingered on the man, her lips pressed thin in boredom. True to her thoughts, Razor was merely a middleman. The one who mattered to her was Adrian Hoffman—the man who had ordered her death. He was the one she wanted to confront, to question. She wanted to rip apart the polished, arrogant image he projected, especially the illusion of his doting affection toward Sierra.

Noticing her lack of interest, Tyler suggested they head out, and Erisia nodded. He led her back downstairs to the bullpen, returning them to his cubicle. Once seated, he shared the latest update: the phone and SIM card had already been sent to the digital forensics unit. If the analysts uncovered proof of Adrian’s money transfer to Razor—or even a single message or call linked to the assassination attempt—it would be solid evidence. Evidence strong enough to hand to the DA, who would immediately turn it over to the judge. Once reviewed, the judge would almost certainly sign off on the warrant for Adrian’s arrest.

"The only downside," Tyler admitted, "is that digital forensics might take some time. Two days, maybe more."

Erisia sighed but nodded, accepting the reality. Not everything could move at the rapid pace it had so far. The only reason things had progressed this quickly was because of Detective Tyler’s dedication. That thought tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she smiled faintly. "Thank you very much, Mr. Tyler. You’ve worked really hard."

"No, please don’t thank me anymore," Tyler said firmly, shaking his head. "This is the police’s job. And don’t worry—I’m sure we’ll be able to get Adrian."

That triggered another thought in Erisia, and she voiced it aloud. "Adrian is Nicko Vance’s cousin, right? And Nicko is the leader of the gang Razor belongs to. Once Nicko finds out about Razor’s arrest, he’ll tell Adrian."

"Yes," Tyler agreed with a slow nod. "If Nicko knows about the arrangement, he’ll inform him. If he doesn’t, then maybe not. Either way, we’ll make sure Adrian doesn’t leave our radar until we have him in custody."

"That’s good to know," Erisia murmured, her voice sharpening. "Because I want to see him behind bars."

"And you will," Tyler promised. "That’s not just police procedure—that’s personal. You have my word." He tilted his head. "So, where’s your kitten?"

Erisia’s expression softened into a small smile. "Oh, Rein. I left her back at the apartment. She’s still little, not used to people, so I can’t take her everywhere. Yesterday was an exception—because of the... incident."

"You’re right," Tyler said, then gave her a curious look. "But you said apartment. Forgive me, I thought you were living at your family’s mansion?"

"You mean with the Wrenfords?" Erisia arched a brow, her smile turning wry. "Well, technically, yes. But I don’t want to go back there. At least not for a while. That place makes me feel fucking suffocated."

"I see," he replied quietly.

"I’m living with a friend," Erisia added, her tone lightening. "It’s pretty comfortable."

"I’m glad you feel that way." Tyler glanced at his watch. "It’s almost twelve. Are you going now, or do you want to wait so I can drive us to get lunch? I can drop you off close to your friend’s apartment afterward."

Erisia considered her dwindling funds and decided to accept. She smiled. "I’ll wait for you."

With that, she headed toward the break room. Inside, a few uniformed officers were gathered, huddled over their phones in hushed conversation. The moment they noticed her presence, they stiffened. One officer let out a small sound, and suddenly all eyes were on her—curious, sympathetic, pitying.

Erisia offered them a polite smile in greeting. They returned it awkwardly before dispersing, though their murmurs reached her clearly:

"Wow, she really suffered. Tsk, her adopted family’s a bunch of filthy people, especially that daughter."

"Tell me about it. I only see situations like this in movies. Who would’ve thought shit like this would play out in real life?"

"Right? I mean, for fuck’s sake, she almost drowned in that pool. And no one went to pull her out. She even had a head injury. I really feel sorry for her."

"Same here. I read someone said it was a stranger who took her to the hospital. Not her family."

"You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if her crazy sister had something to do with that car almost running her over."

Erisia raised a brow and called out silently to Echo for the first time that day, after their usual morning acting simulation.

’Echo, what the hell are they talking about?’

[ Early this morning, a new post tagged your X account. It said that what you wrote in your last post had come true—but at the cost of your near-death. The individual who posted it has a massive following from uploading memes and comedic real-life videos. One of their followers happened to be a Cassian Rowe fan. Wanting to know who the woman with their idol was, they dug through your profile and reposted your recent posts. That sparked a comment thread about your background, the Pool incident, and CloutLeakz. The post also referenced Veritas Vault. ]

As Echo spoke, Erisia pulled out her phone. She realized she hadn’t checked X since waking—only Instagram. Opening the app, she saw dozens of notifications, including one that tagged her directly: