Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Later Michael became a head detective. I was once robbed in college, and he was the one who helped me.

When my father was nearing the end of his life, he asked Michael to look out for me if I ever got into trouble.

Now I needed him again.

“Thanks for coming,” I said as he sat down.

He shrugged. “No trouble. Though I was surprised to hear from you after all this time.”

“I need your help again.”

“I gathered that from your text.” He sipped his coffee. “What’s the situation?”

I laid it out for him–the stabbing, Tyler Hodges‘ accusation, Blake’s reaction. Michael listened without interruption, occasionally making notes in a small black notebook.

“So you need to find out who put Tyler up to this,” he said when I finished.

“Yes. And why.”

He nodded. “I can help. I have some contacts at the detention center. I’ll see what I can do about getting you a meeting with Tyler.”

“I appreciate it, Michael. I really do.”

“Don’t mention it.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Let’s just say I enjoy seeing privileged assholes get what’s coming to them.”

I knew he wasn’t talking about Blake specifically.

“This isn’t about revenge,” I said. “It’s about the truth.”

“In my experience, the two often coincide.” He closed his notebook. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

The detention center smelled of industrial cleaner and desperation. Michael had worked some kind of magic to get me in to see Tyler within days. I sat at a scratched metal table, trying not to fidget as the door buzzed open.

Tyler shuffled in, thinner than I remembered, his eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal. The guard pushed him into the chair across from me and stepped back against the wall.

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Chapter 41

“You have fifteen minutes,” he announced before crossing his arms and staring at a point above our

heads.

“Hello, Tyler,” I said quietly.

His gaze finally settled on my face, confusion giving way to recognition. “What do you want?”

“Anna Anderson Wright. The woman you framed. That’s me.”

He looked away. “You should go.”

“You’ve been charged with attempted murder, not assault,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Do you understand the difference? The difference is that the Wright family can turn three years into ten, ten

years into life. You’ll never see the outside of a cell again.”

That got his attention. His eyes widened, and I could see the calculation happening behind them.

“That’s impossible. I didn’t try to kill anyone,” he said, his voice cracking. “I just hurt her by accident.

I wasn’t thinking straight. Sometimes I black out–I don’t know what I’m doing. You can have doctors

examine me. I’ll be found not guilty.”

I leaned forward. “Yet here I am, free, despite your accusations against me. And here you are, locked

1. up. Is this what ‘not guilty‘ looks like to you? You’ve already confessed to the assault, which has expedited the investigation…”

“Just go,” he interrupted, agitation building. “Once you’re in prison, I can get out.”

“If you want out, I’m the only one who can help you.”

His eyes met mine, desperate but wary. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t just about money or a