Pregnant And Rejected

Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Interrogation

Selene’s POV

Being in lock down with morning sickness is even less fun than being in lock down with nothing to do – especially when one is confined with a host of people who can’t know you’re pregnant.

I’ve been popping my anti-nausea medication like it’s breath mints for the better part of three hours, intermittently wondering if it’ s possible to overdose on the drug. My stomach is finally starting to settle, but the boredom isn’t getting any better.

Bastien didn’t explain anything when he tossed me in here with Odette and the guards, simply announcing that there’s an emergency and we needed to “stay put” until he returned. It might be easier to accept the situation if we understood what’s going on, and my mother-in-law isn’t faring much better than I am. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

“Try not to worry, Odette. “I soothe for the dozenth time. “I’m sure Bastien’s safe.”

“I’m afraid none of us are safe ‘She replies grimly. “Bastien won’t say so, but I know more is going on here than he’s letting on Too much has gone wrong lately.”

“I know, I agree soberly, “But feeling anxious about things we can’t control or predict will only make it worse.”

Odette looks like she’s about to respond, but before she can get any words out, her expression changes and she jolts to her feet. “He’s back

I scent the air, realizing she’s right before I can question why or how I’m doing this.

“He’s not alone. She announces.

Aiden? I suggest.

“No enforcers.”

I can hear their footsteps now, so many they muddle together into an odd, clomping cacophony. They pound down the hallway until the bolts locking the door gradually turn over, and the wooden panel swings open so sharply it rebounds against the wall.

Bastien towers in the center of the frame, flanked on either side by rugged and gnarled enforcers. I sit frozen while Odette runs to him. Sweetheart, what’s happened?”

“Arabella has been kidnapped.” He declares gruffly.

My mother-in-law’s eyes go wide and her hands clamp over her mouth, “Oh Goddess.”

I’m not sure what to think. At first all I can process is the rage in Bastien’s expression. He must be out of his mind with worry, not to mention infuriated someone would do such a thing. Then I wonder who would possibly be dumb enough to kidnap the Alpha’s future wife, thinking of the Gemini wolves and their provocation at the memorial, as well as Gabriel’s still unknown murderer.

Yet underneath it all, doubt niggles at my mind. I know what Arabella is capable of, and I know how upset she must be to have her wedding postponed this way, Is it possible her cruelty doesn’t only extend to me? Would she put the man she loves through such pain in order to get what she wants?

Just as quickly as the thought enters my mind, shame swells in my chest. What a horrible, cynical thing to think. A woman’s life is in danger and I’m questioning whether she’s faking the threat. Only a complete sociopath would engineer such a plot.

“We need to speak with Selene.” Bastien’s command clears the room before I can catch up to his hushed conversation with his mother

When we’re alone with the enforcers, I approach my husband, “I’m so sorry.” I express honestly. “This is terrible.”

But it isn’t Bastien who answers me. Please have a seat Mrs. Durand.”

I swing my gaze to the investigator who spoke, noting the way the other men seem to defer to him. He must be in charge.

Though I want to ask about a hundred questions, I obey, returning to the chaise I had been sharing with Odette,

Bastien crosses the room with an unreadable countenance, Selene, when did you last see Arabella?”

The image of Arabella kissing Bastien as she left his office after midnight appears in my mind’s eye, every bit as damning as it was in reality. “The other night.” I’m speaking to the ground, unable to bring myself to look at them. “It was late and I was worried you were still working. So I came to get you, but then I saw Arabella leaving your office.”

“And you haven’t seen or spoken to her since?” Bastien prompts.

“No.” I murmur.

When I finally raise my eyes, I see the enforcers exchanging knowing glances. “Mrs. Durand,” The lead investigator interjects, “How would you describe your relationship with Ms. Winters?”

My brain flips through our past dealings; from our coffee house meeting, to her attack on the stairs, and our confrontation outside the jewelry store. “We’re not friends, if that’s what you mean.”

Understatement of the year,

“I see.” The man nods, “have you ever fought?”

For the first time, it occurs to me that I might be a suspect. Why else would they be questioning me this way? “We‘ve argued.” I hedge. The last thing I need is to tell them how many times Arabella threatened me. My husband leaving me for her already gives me plenty of motive to want her out of the way.

“Like the argument you had when you pushed her down the stairs?” One of the enforcers chimes in.

“I never did that!” I exclaim, looking to Bastien for help.

He shakes his head, “I’ve already told them what happened.”

Confusion pulses at my temples. How can this be happening. He said he believed me! I scan their faces, searching for anyone who looks sympathetic and finding none. “I swear I didn’t have anything to do with this. You have to believe me!”

“No one suggested you did, Mrs. Durand.” The lead investigator replies smugly.

“Wha- but…” | grapple for calm but only feel myself grow more flustered, “You obviously think I did. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here questioning me this way.”

“Please calm down, ma’am.” The man condescends, “We’re merely here to ascertain facts about Ms. Winter’s life and relationships.”

“Selene.” Bastien interrupts firmly, his silver eyes piercing through me. “Have you ever threatened Arabella, in any way?”

“No.” I answer instantly. “Of course not. I don’t threaten people, no matter what they’ve done to me.”

I can see they think I answered too quickly. The same enforcer who brought up the stairs tilts his head curiously. “What do you mean, no matter what they‘ve done to you? Are you saying Ms. Winters wronged you?”

“That isn’t what I meant.” The words are scarcely more than a squeak.

“What did you mean?” Bastien asks.

“Simply that making threats isn’t in my nature.” I state slowly, trying desperately to regain my bearings.

The lead investigator pulls out his phone, scrolling over the screen before offering it to me, “Then how do you explain this?”

A photo fills the small rectangular screen, clearly displaying a cream colored parchment bearing a few lines of flowing script. I read the message quickly, bafflement and incredulity rising to the forefront of my ‘swirling emotions. The handwriting looks like mine, but the signature is slightly off.

Arabella must have found something I wrote and studied it in order to copy the script. “I didn’t write this.” I maintain, “That isn’t my signature.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Durand.” The enforcer gestures to Bastien, who produces another paper from his jacket pocket. I recognize the note paper immediately – it’s a narrow sheaf from the kitchen notepad where I write out to-do items and shopping lists. “but the handwriting is almost identical.”

Side by side, the similarities are damning, but they must see how ridiculous this is. “I make half a dozen lists like that every week anyone could pull one from the trash to copy my writing:”

“So your defense is that you’re being framed?” An enforcer inquires, “why would anyone want to frame you?”

“Why would anyone sign their name to such a threatening note.” I defend, pointing to the phone in exasperation. “Especially if they planned on kidnapping the recipient.”

“Maybe it wasn’t planned.” The lead investigator jumps back in. “Maybe you lost your temper and didn’t have time to go back and clean up the evidence.”

I attempt a steadying breath. “Even if I wanted to kidnap her, how could I? I’m not strong enough to overpower anyone!”

“The element of surprise goes a long way.” One of the enforcers declares, a few others nodding in agreement. “Especially in the confines of a vehicle.”

“You can’t honestly believe this.” i beseech Bastien.

Bastien’s hard jaw twitches ominously. “It isn’t just the note Selene. The blood in the car came from two different people. One sample was hers, and one was yours.

Bastien’s POV

This is torture.

Selene looks like she’s been hit by a truck, and I can’t blame her. The enforcers have taken this too far. I told them over and over again that my mate has nothing to do with this, that the kidnapping is more sabotage, but they believe the evidence is too strong.

The lead inspector, Danvers, didn’t seem to be capable of grasping why someone would both kidnap Arabella and frame Selene. What was the point when they could kidnap them both? Why resort to kidnapping at all? If someone has a vendetta against the family, why bother with sabotage? Why not kill us?

He doesn’t seem to understand that killing me isn’t enough for our tormentor. It would adopt the narrative of a tragic leader taken too soon, further perpetuating our reputation and legacy. It wouldn’t

break my will or tarnish my good name, and that’s what they want: to make sure I have nothing left when they finally go in for the kill.

I can hear Selene’s heart hammering from across the room, which means the others can as well. “I’ve never been anywhere near Arabella’s car – and I don’t heal like you do.” She pleads. “You’d know if I was injured.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Durand but you are injured.” Danvers points to a handful of long red marks on Selene’s forearm.

“They’re just scratches!” She cries. “I’ve been taking care of Odette’s roses until she feels up to it again.”

“That might explain one cut, maybe two. Those,” He nods toward the parallel gashes, four stretching side by side, only an inch or two apart. “Look like claw marks.”