Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge-Chapter 209: By the Book

"We have some unfinished business with them."

The prosecutor hated their nerves and loathed how they talked because of the wealth backing them. He asked with mock arrogance. "And why exactly do you want to meet us, Mr. Lancaster? We aren't free to entertain civilians. Unlike silver spoon kids, we've got real work to do."

Aveline almost laughed, hearing him. Her hand instinctively brushed her lips, but the faint curve at the corner betrayed her amusement. Everyone saw it, and it burned.

Alaric didn't respond immediately to the prosecutor. He simply looked at the four officers, one by one. His silence was heavy enough to choke them against the walls.

Then, in the calmest voice, he began, "Detective Hall, you were promoted last quarter, despite failing the evaluation twice."

Detective Hall's jaw clenched. His face flushed crimson at the truth of his life.

His gaze landed on another officer, "Sergeant Cruz, the charity fund to bury that assault case has made you greedier." Each of his words landed like a quiet strike.

Sergeant Cruz's head snapped around. His eyes widened with panic.

Aveline was impressed by her boyfriend but pitied the officer for provoking Alaric in the middle of the hallway.

Alaric turned to the captain, "And Captain Reeves…"

The captain shook as soon as he heard it. He cut in hurriedly, "Mr-mr. Lancaster, we shall talk inside my office."

In a split second, the captain and prosecutors vanished from the hallway and into the office.

"Tsk…" Aveline shook her head, biting back a smile at how easily they crumbled.

Alaric's warning was clear without being spoken when they entered the captain's office. He dropped a neat set of papers on the captain's desk. "Block Theodore Marston and the Astors' passports. They shouldn't travel anywhere without my approval."

The mere mention of the Astors twisted every expression in the room. Their bravado and rage vanished, replaced by a flicker of unease that Aveline caught instantly.

"Why should we?" one of them dared to ask, their voice thin with forced courage.

Aveline shrugged lightly, her tone disarmingly casual. "Because we're suspicious of their involvement. Surely you wouldn't want to ignore evidence now, would you?"

Alaric didn't bother replying. He turned his head just enough to cast them a single glance. Then, as he stepped out of the office, his voice cut through the silence like a blade wrapped in silk. "The media's waiting."

He would let the cops manage the circus of the media. Their statements to the public could wait.

At the exit of the precinct, Aveline instinctively grabbed her hat, tilting it low to hide her face. But she soon noticed the reporters weren't raising their cameras or bombarding her with questions.

Her gaze followed the hush and landed on her father's Maybach, parked between rows of Apex guards in formation.

A quiet snicker escaped her. She didn't lower her hat until Henry stepped forward and pulled her into a brief embrace. "Sweetheart," he said, his tone proud and unyielding, "don't forget. We're Laurents."

Aveline only hummed, her expression unreadable. She had seen their downfall once before. This time, the fear of it lingered like a shadow she refused to let near.

When Alaric opened the door of her car, she slid inside without a word.

Only then did the cameras rise.

Henry's Maybach drove first, followed by the black Rolls-Royce blocking the flashing lenses. Then came the Bugatti.

Finally, the sleek Bugatti eased forward, gliding past the reporters with quiet command.

Only silence remained as the reporters looked at each other. They had thought they could finally tear apart the Laurents until they received calls from their companies.

The negative coverage of Aveline was halted. Only statistics were aired on the screen. Before they could process what was happening, the captain of the investigation team stepped out with his officers to arrange a quick press conference in the precinct's press hall.

...

The precinct's press hall was packed with reporters and cameras. Flashes burst across the room as cameras clicked relentlessly, capturing the four officers seated at the panel.

The captain adjusted his collar, his face composed, though his eyes betrayed a hint of fear. He cleared his throat and began, his voice steady but cautious. "After interrogating key personnel and reviewing the evidence collected, we've found that Ms. Aveline Laurent has followed every procedure, by the book and by the law."

A murmur rippled through the press row. Reporters glanced at each other, surprised and skeptical. It contradicted the story they had been fed the previous night.

He continued, pausing between words with deliberate care. "However… based on her statement and the cross-verification of facts, there are two individuals we have reason to be suspicious of. Their identities will not be disclosed until the investigation confirms involvement."

A journalist shot up, his voice sharp. "Captain Reeves, are you saying Ms. Laurent is completely cleared?"

The captain's expression didn't shift, but his gaze was firm. "The investigation is ongoing. Until the truth is determined, neither Ms. Laurent nor the individuals in question will be leaving the city."

Another voice from the back chimed in, "So, Ms. Laurent is under travel restriction?"

The captain's smile was too polite to be genuine. "Let's just say everyone under scrutiny remains available for questioning."

The crowd erupted in whispers again. Aveline's name echoed in fragments across the room.

The captain raised a hand, silencing the hall. "And one more thing," he said, his tone carrying an edge of authority. "We urge the media to stop targeting individuals without valid proof. Reckless reporting helps no one. It only helps the guilty."

He reached for the microphone again, this time with finality. "To maintain transparency, we'll be releasing video evidence shortly. It may help the media relay the truth to the citizens."

The journalists gasped, realizing Aveline was either innocent or using connections to escape.

Flashes intensified as questions came like rapid fire. "Captain! Why wasn't this video released earlier?"

"Was it withheld to manipulate the narrative?"

"Are the officers involved in foul play?"

The captain's jaw tightened. The prosecutor attempted to manage the situation. "The footage speaks for itself," he said simply.

Without another word, they turned and walked out of the hall.

The cameras followed them until the doors shut, leaving only the sound of reporters arguing their opinions and the unshakable sense that Aveline Laurent had turned the narrative her way.