Chapter 99
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After Mr. Stern left to handle my ball paperwork, I returned to the holding cell.
There wasn’t much to do–nothing to pack so I decided to lie down on the narrow cot and rest my mind for a bit.
Before I could even close my eyes, someone lunged at me.
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The steel shelving behind me left no room to move. Even someone in perfect health would’ve been injured if they were shoved into it. And me? With steel plates and screws holding my body together, a hit like that could easily cripple me—if not kill me outright.
I’d been caught completely off guard, too distracted by my thoughts to notice her approach. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late to dodge.
Just as I braced for the worst, I felt a strong hand yank me backward.
One of the women in the cell—the one who looked the most intimidating–grabbed me and pulled me out of the way. Her timing was perfect ; I was inches away from colliding with the shelf
Before I could process what had just happened, she leaned down and murmured, “Get out of here as soon as you can. Someone’s gunning for you.”
Her voice was low, urgent.
“She knows you’re still recovering, which is why she went straight for you like that.”
I stared at her, stunned, trying to wrap my head around her warning.
She must have noticed my confusion because she continued quietly, “Someone approached me first, but I’ve got a daughter waiting for me at home. I promised her I’d stay out of trouble, no more illegal crap. I’m not about to break that promise.”
Her words clicked instantly. There was only one person I could think of who would go to these lengths—Julianne. This was her plan. She wasn’t going to let me leave this place alive.
The woman who had attacked me glared at the one who saved me, but seeing she’d lost her chance, she returned to her bunk, muttering curses under her breath.
My first instinct was to press the emergency button and report her to the guards, but the woman beside me grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“That won’t do you any good,” she said, her voice firm. “She’s got a documented psych record. Even if she did manage to hurt you, they wouldn’t do much to her. And right now? She didn’t even succeed.”
I hesitated, but she added, “Look, whoever set this up made sure there’d be no evidence linking back to them. Don’t waste time trying to prove it. Focus on getting out of here first. Everything else can wait.”
She was right.
I followed her back to her bunk and sat down, still shaken. After a moment, I finally asked, “Why’d you help me?”
She clearly understood the risks, so wasn’t she afraid of retaliation for helping me?
It wasn’t that I was paranoid or doubting someone who had just saved my life—it was just that, in this world, no stranger willingly helped you while knowing the danger involved.
She must have had something she wanted from me.
And whatever it was, I would do everything I could to give it to her
Her expression was calm, but her words were blunt. “I’ve seen you before. You came to my village a few years ago for one of your
charity projects. I know who you are. I know you’ve got money, and I know you’re a good person.”
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She paused before continuing her gaze steady. 1
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“ I want to give my daughter a better life. I’m hoping that by helping you, I can get a job–something honest, something with decent pay– so I can start over with her and leave this life behind for good.”
There was no pretense , no sugarcoating. She didn’t bother pretending this was about kindness or goodwill.
She was a mother fighting for a second chance.
Not everyone gets to leave their past behind, no matter how muclihey regret it. A criminal record follows you like a shadow, making it nearly impossible to rebuild.
For someone like her–middle–aged, with no formal education and a long list of offenses–starting over wasn’t just hard. It was nearly impossible.
When I first arrived, I had been wary of her. She was tall and broad shouldered, and her sharp, piercing eyes made her seem intimidating—like someone who didn’t shy away from trouble.
I’d been sure she’d be the first to cause me problems.
But I’d been wrong.
That intimidating stare? It wasn’t malice. She’d been sizing me up trying to figure out how to approach me, how to leverage this moment to give her daughter a shot at a better life.
She wasn’t just smart. She was a mother willing to do whatever it took for her child.
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