Olivia’s POV
"Mr. Wellington, please!" I begged as the officers dragged out of the room. "Have rcy! I’m too young for prison!"
The officers remained unmoved by my pleas. They just kept edging forward. anwhile, Maxwell had completely disappeared inside his cat’s penthouse, probably feeding it caviar and telling it how they’d successfully rid themselves of the crazy assistant.
"This is all a misunderstanding!" I continued wailing as they hauled down the stairs toward the front door. "I’m not a criminal! I don’t even jaywalk! I return library books early!"
The staff had gathered to watch being dragged out, their faces filled with shock. Even the maid who’d specifically warned against going near Maxwell’s bedroom was surprised to see in handcuffs.
"Mr. Wellington!" I tried one last ti as the officers shoved into the back of the police van. "I’m extrely sorry!"
But the door slamd shut, and we were driving away from the Wellington mansion.
*********
It was my first ti in a police station, and it wasn’t what i was expecting at all. The place slled of stale coffee and broken dreams, and it looked depressing as hell.
"Na?" the desk sergeant asked bluntly.
"Oliver Hopton," I mumbled, still in shock that this was actually happening.
"Age?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Charges: Breaking and entering, theft, and..." he squinted at the paperwork, "unlawful cat acquisition?"
I wanted to protest that "unlawful cat acquisition" sounded made-up, but given my current situation, arguing seed unwise.
"Fingerprints," another officer commanded, grabbing my hands and pressing them onto an ink pad. The black ink stained my fingers like evidence of my fall from grace.
Then ca the mugshot.
"Look straight ahead," the photographer instructed. "Try not to cry."
"I’m not crying!" I protested, even as tears stread down my cheeks.
After what felt like hours of paperwork and bureaucratic humiliation, they finally got to the fun part.
"Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars," the desk sergeant announced.
I nearly fainted. "Fifty THOUSAND? For petting a cat? What is this, the cat Protection Act?"
"Breaking and entering into a multibillion-dollar mansion tends to carry high bail amounts," he explained readily. "Plus, the cat is apparently worth more than this entire building."
"It’s a CAT!" I shrieked. "It doesn’t even have a job!"
The officer shrugged. "Rich people cats, man. Different rules."
As the reality of my situation sank in, they led toward the holding cells. The walk felt like a death march, and I didn’t know how I’ll survive a night in this place.
"Cell B," the officer announced, stopping in front of a barred door. "Try not to get on Big Mike’s bad side, kid. He gives pretty boys special treatnt."
My blood turned to ice water. Inside the cell, lying on one of the narrow bunks like he owned the place, was quite possibly the most terrifying human being I’d ever encountered. Big Mike - and he definitely lived up to his na - had arms like tree trunks, a shaved head covered in tattoos, and eyes that looked like he ate people like for breakfast.
"Fresh at," Big Mike rumbled in a deep voice.
I pressed myself against the cell wall so hard I was probably leaving an imprint. Maybe if I concentrated really hard, I could phase through the wall and escape into another dinsion where I’d never t Maxwell Wellington or his beautiful cat.
"I’m not here," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes. "This is all a terrible dream. I’m actually at ho, sleeping in my own bed, having a nightmare about being arrested for cat theft."
"You talking to yourself, pretty boy?" Big Mike asked, and I could feel his eyes boring into like lasers.
"Nope!" I squeaked, not opening my eyes. "Just... praying. Very loudly. In my head."
Big Mike chuckled, a sound that made shiver in fear. "I like you, pretty boy. You’re funny."
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. The scary prison man thinks I’m funny. This is how every prison movie starts.
I risked opening one eye and imdiately regretted it. Big Mike was staring at with a predatory interest, like I was an appetizing al who’d appeared in his territory.
"So what are you in for, pretty boy?" he asked.
"Cat burglary," I whispered.
Big Mike burst out laughing. "Cat burglary? Like, stealing cats?"
"Just one cat," I clarified miserably. "And I didn’t even steal it! I just... I just wanted to borrow it."
This seed to delight Big Mike even more. He sat up on his bunk, giving his full scary attention.
"You’re telling you got arrested for borrowing sobody’s cat?"
"It was a very expensive cat," I mumbled, still pressed against the wall like a human pancake.
"How expensive?"
"More than my apartnt. Possibly more than my new salary."
Big Mike whistled slowly. "Damn, pretty boy. You sure know how to pick ’em."
I spent the next hour trying to beco one with the wall while Big Mike drilled with stories of his various criminal escapades. Every few minutes, he’d look at with that unsettling interest, and I’d press myself even harder against the wall, wondering if it was possible to actually rge with building materials through sheer force of will.
Finally, after what felt like years, an officer appeared at the cell door.
"Hopton, you get one phone call."
I practically launched myself toward the bars. "Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
The officer looked shocked by my enthusiasm but handed my phone through the bars. I grabbed it imdiately and dialed Kira’s number.
"Hello?" Kira’s voice ca through.
"Kira!" I whispered frantically. "Thank God you answered!"
"Olivia? Are you still at the office? Why do you sound strange?"
"I’m in jail."
Silence.
"I’m sorry, what did you just say?"
"I said I’m in jail, Kira. Like, actual jail. With bars and everything." Then I lowered my voice to a whisper. "There’s also a terrifying man here who keeps calling ’pretty boy’ and I think he wants to make his prison wife!"
"WHAT?" Kira scread. "How did you go from not coming ho last night to being in JAIL by noon? What happened?"
"I... I tried to kidnap Maxwell’s cat."
Another long silence.
"You kidnapped your boss’s cat."
"I didn’t kidnap it! I just... borrowed it. For emotional support. Without permission. And then I fell asleep with it in his bed."
"You WHAT?"
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