The Bad Daughter

Sarah's fingers trembled as she reached for the car door, her knuckles white against the metallic surface. Watching John being pushed into the police vehicle had been harder than she anticipated. The man she had once loved, trusted, and built a life with now sat behind bars, and she was the one who put him there. 

Stumbling into her car, she leaned back, taking a deep breath that seemed to shatter into a million pieces inside her chest. She fought the tears that threatened to spill, her vision blurring momentarily. 

"Sarah," a gentle voice said, breaking the silence. 

Maya's hand rested on her shoulder, grounding her. "I know this is hard, but it was necessary. You had no choice." 

Sarah's jaw tightened. She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to nod. "Yeah," she said hoarsely, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I'm fine. Let's go." 

But she wasn't fine. The invisible weight in her chest pressed harder as she started the engine. 

---

The road back to the station was silent, the hum of the car engine filling the void between them. Sarah's fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, her mind racing with questions. 

"Maya," she began, her tone clipped. "What's the status on Laura Smith?" 

Maya hesitated, glancing at Sarah before replying. "Nothing yet, ma'am. We've been focused on gathering evidence against John." 

Sarah's grip on the wheel tightened, her knuckles turning pale. "We don't have time to waste, Maya. I need information on Laura—now. If she's connected to this case, we need to know." 

"Yes, ma'am," Maya said, her voice firm but tinged with unease. 

The station loomed ahead, its harsh fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the parking lot. Sarah exhaled sharply, steeling herself. 

---

 "Where is he?" Sarah asked as she entered the station, her voice commanding despite the tremor she tried to suppress. 

"In the detention room," an officer replied. 

Sarah nodded and walked briskly toward the room, pausing outside the door. She shrugged off her jacket, draping it over a chair, and rolled her neck until it cracked. She flexed her fingers, and With a deep breath, she pushed open the door. 

John sat slouched in the chair, his once confident posture replaced by a defeated slump. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now seemed dull, like a man resigned to his fate. 

Sarah sat across from him, her face a mask of calm. The folder in her hands was heavy, its contents a weapon she was prepared to wield. 

"John Blake," she began, her voice measured. "What is your relationship with Laura Smith?" 

John didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on her, unblinking, as if trying to gauge how much she knew. 

"Mr. Blake," Sarah said, her tone sharpening, "I recommend you cooperate. It will be in your best interest." 

Still, silence. 

"Let me rephrase," Sarah said, her eyes narrowing. "How long have you known her?" 

John's lips pressed into a thin line before he finally spoke. "A year." 

"And how did you meet her?" 

"Through a case," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"What case?" 

"There was an accident at her university," John replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

"What kind of accident?" Sarah pressed. 

"A chemical accident." 

"And Laura Smith's connection to it?" 

"She was accused of being the culprit," John said. 

"Was she guilty?" 

"No." His voice was firmer now. "She wasn't. It was someone else." 

"Describe the accident," Sarah demanded, leaning forward. 

"I don't remember," John said, his tone dismissive. 

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she flipped through the folder. "Mr. Blake, you are accused of leaking confidential police information to an outside source—most likely Laura Smith or someone associated with her. Information that has likely contributed to these murders." 

John shot up, the chain securing him to the table clinking loudly. "I did what?" he shouted, his face a mixture of shock and anger. 

"You leaked—" Sarah began, her voice cold and accusatory. 

"I didn't!" John interrupted, his voice desperate. "Sarah, you know me! I wouldn't do this!" 

"Do I?" Sarah snapped, her composure cracking. "Because the evidence says otherwise. You were caught on CCTV rummaging through my desk." 

"I wasn't rummaging!" John said, his voice breaking. "Yes, I opened your drawer, but I didn't touch any files. I wasn't prying!" 

"Then prove it!" Sarah retorted, slamming her palms on the table. "If you didn't leak that information, then who did? Or are you trying to tell me you're not just a leak but the murderer?" 

John's face paled, and his voice caught in his throat. "Sarah," he whispered, his tone getting aggressive yet pleading.

"I'M YOUR HUSBAND!" 

 "YES!! YOU WERE MY HUSBAND.

And you CHEATED!"

Sarah voice changed tone from aggressive to helpless… and then the Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. John sank back into his seat, his head in his hands. Sarah stood, her arms braced against the table, her chest heaving with restrained emotion. 

"If you're innocent, bring me proof," she said, her voice quieter but no less sharp. "And tell me when that chemical accident happened." 

But John said nothing. He lowered his head, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. 

Sarah stared at him for a moment longer before picking up her folder and leaving the room. 

As the door closed behind her, Sarah leaned against the wall, her breath coming in short gasps. The weight on her heart felt unbearable, a mix of anger, betrayal, and lingering affection twisting like a knife in her chest. 

Every woman, she thought bitterly, is weak before her religion and her passion. 

"Ma'am?" Maya's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. 

Sarah straightened, wiping her face quickly. "I'm fine," she said, her tone clipped. "Get me all the case files John has handled in the past year. Make sure not a file is missing." 

Why we need the files? Maya questioned crossly… to which Sarah glared at her, and said

Am I supposed to answer that?!

Maya said nothing and returned to get the files, concern flickering in her eyes, but she said nothing.