Kiss My Revenge The Heiress Strikes Back

Smiles playing on his lips as Elian watched Miranda. "I'll wait for you out here."

Miranda nodded slightly before heading in, leaving Elian to stand there, watching until she was out of sight.

"Mr. Elian Ashcroft, everything's sorted now. You're free to leave," a police officer informed him.

Elian nodded and turned to his assistant. "Grab a chair for me, will you? I'm waiting for her."

The officer hesitated. "Mr. Elian Ashcroft, that's not really appropriate."

Elian frowned. "What's inappropriate about waiting for my wife?"

The officer paused "Alright."

Since they were family, there'd be no problem. Then, the officer walked off to organize his files.

"Claiming she's your wife, got the marriage certificate? I could sue you for slander, Elian Mr. Ashcroft."

Maximus's voice came from behind, cold and dismissive. Elian turned to see the man, clad in suit, clasping a file of documents.

He knew well enough about Maximus, who was active online, having helped Miranda with numerous cases, each more ruthless than the last. If there was a chance to send someone to prison, Maximus never missed it. His success rate in court was impeccable.noveldrama

He worked directly for Miranda and had even shared the same prison with her once. Coincidentally, not just him, Marion was in the same jail as them.

Maximus's words were laced with a hint of sarcasm and displeasure, clearly protective of Miranda.

Elian smirked. "Who needs paper to call someone 'wife'?"

Maximus maintained his icy demeanor. "Without the papers, you're just tarnishing my boss's reputation."

To Maximus, Elian was nothing more than a spoiled rich kid-a pesky admirer trailing after his boss.

Elian raised an eyebrow, giving Maximus a look that sent a chill down his spine. He gazed at Maximus, his lips curled into a half-smile, his eyes piercingly frosty.

There was something about Elian's aura and stare that suggested he was far from an ordinary wealthy heir.

"Eventually, there will be papers, but that's none of your concern, Mr. Grey."

Maximus frowned, muttering, "quite cocky," before falling silent.

He came here with Miranda, and it was only natural to wait for her outside. As her lawyer, he also needed to liaise with the police regarding past and current cases involving her.

Miranda was meeting with a higher-ranking officer. After a few routine questions, the officer didn't seem to continue. The evidence was sufficient, after all, and her visit was merely procedural.

"Is there anything you need? Within reason, of course, we're more than willing to accommodate," the senior officer told Miranda courteously, avoiding any mention of her time in prison.

Before released, Miranda recalled the prison warden mentioning she'd been placed under special protection, meaning only the police with high clearance would know of her incarceration.

There was no need for her to

concern the repercussions due to the imprisonment, for nothing

related would be left in her records, which implied that this officer likely be aware of her being

evelight

protected, explaining the reason of his previous question as well as his reticence about her jail time.

If the warden's words were true, the police would have to require certain

clearance to glean her information.

Miranda curled her lips into a smile. "I'd like to see them."

"Technically, that's against the rules," the officer said, a tad hesitant. "But for you,

it's a reasonable request."

With that, he smiled back, standing to lead the way for Miranda.

"Oh, and one more thing. Your former foster family, the Zades, have been formally charged with child abuse. We're gathering evidence, and the testimonies from neighbors

and witnesses, alongsideeignet

confessions, substantiate the abuse claims. They'll face sanctions once the prosecution goes successfully."

He paused shortly. "However, given their current situation as a vulnerable demographic, the consequences may not be too severe."

The Zade family now included merely a mother and a son. One was bedridden for life, the other frail and destitute. Even if convicted, societal compassion might shield them from harsh punishment. They were already penniless, incapable of surviving on their own.

Miranda chuckled lightly as she replied, "For them, prison might be a blessing, wouldn't it?"

The officer took a brief moment to realize the implication. It was true; with their current suffering, they'd reaped what they sowed, living on borrowed time, and prison might offer respite-a roof over their heads and meals provided, which was indeed a blessing.

"It seems you're right," he acknowledged with a bob of his head. "Right now, torment's been inflicted on your foster mother by her own son. Living outside now, for them, is a form of social death."