Her Divorce Lawyer Want Her novel Chapter 67

In the interrogation room.

Freya sat shrouded in darkness, the table in front of her lit only by the harsh glow of a single desk lamp.

They’d already taken her phone when they hauled her in.

She waited awhile, and then–finally–someone arrived.

Two officers settled into chairs across from her.

One flipped open a notepad and pen, then thumbed the record button on the tape recorder.

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The other leaned forward and got straight to it. “Freya, Joseph has filed charges against you for extortion–to the tune of 30 million dollars. Got anything to say in your defense?”

Freya kept her cool. “Can I wait for my lawyer? I’ll talk once he’s here.”

“You’ve already lawyered up? When did that happen?”

“Officer, I just want to know if I can call my lawyer now and get him down here to the station.”

By the book, she had every right to do just that.

But they didn’t give her phone back–instead, they pointed her to the station’s landline.

Freya lifted the receiver and just held it there, staring at the dial for what felt like forever, without pressing a single key.

The cops shot her a wary look. “You said you wanted to call your lawyer. So what’s the holdup?”

Her tone was steady as ever. “Officer, off the top of your head, do you know your building’s locksmith’s number?

“A lawyer’s not family. It’s no big deal if I don’t have his memorized.”

“So this is your stall tactic?”

“No.”

She punched in a number.

It rang once before someone picked up. “Hello?”

“Liam, it’s me.”

His voice spiked with urgency. “Freya? You okay? I can’t break away right now–Natalie’s in a bad spot, and my folks are tied

up

too…”

“I’m not counting on you showing up.”

The line went quiet, the weight of it settling in.

Liam sighed, defeated. “Freya, easy now. This isn’t some capital crime like murder or arson. It’s just about the 30 million dollars. They won’t rush a verdict. Crash there tonight, and I’ll spring you first thing tomorrow. Just hold on for me, alright?”

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Chapter 67

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“That’s not why I’m calling. I blanked on Ryan’s number. Give it to me–I need to get in touch with him.”

It clicked for him. “Oh, right–Ryan’s your lawyer; he’ll sort this. Bet he’s already en route to the station. I’ll ring him now.”

“No need-”

The call cut off abruptly, like it had a mind of its own.

One of the cops pinned her with a frosty glare. “Ms. Harper, heads–up: This line’s for contacting your lawyer, not chit- chatting with friends.”

Freya didn’t flinch. “I get it, time’s tight. But cut me a little slack too. I only called him to get the lawyer’s number–you heard every word.”

She was poised, unflappable, spelling it out without a hitch.

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