Chapter 3 Encountering an Impossible Person Again

Katherine's POV

I brushed aside the wedding chaos and made my way to the King County Detention Center. The fluorescent lights buzzed above as I trailed the agent down the sterile corridor, security cameras tracking us with their blinking red eyes.

"Ms. Thompson," the case officer began, shuffling through the papers on his desk. His voice carried the practiced neutrality of someone who delivered bad news daily. "The charges against Kevin Jordan are serious. Attempted rape of Sophie Porter."

My hands clenched in my lap, nail polish digging into my palms. Sophie Porter. Sarah's sister. Of course it would be her. The Porter sisters had always excelled at destroying lives.

"That's impossible," I stated, my voice steady despite the rage building inside. "He would never—"

"The victim's family is quite influential," the officer continued, not looking up from his papers. "Mr. Hudson himself has personally requested that bail be denied."

Alexander Hudson. Even now, five years later, he was still pulling strings to hurt me. Memories flooded back–being eight years old, watching helplessly as Sarah and Sophie tormented me after our parents' marriage, my father too besotted with their mother to notice. Now they were doing the same to Kevin.

"I want to see the evidence," I demanded, leaning forward.

"I'm afraid that's not possible at this stage." The officer finally met my eyes. "Ms. Thompson, I advise you to maintain your distance."

I could only stand, smoothing my skirt nervously, my heart racing. "Thank you for your time, Officer."

"One more thing," I paused at the door. "When did this alleged incident occur?"

"Last night, at the Four Seasons Hotel."

I strode toward the detention center's exit. My mind raced with plans. I needed to get to Kevin's apartment, find evidence of his whereabouts last night, anything to prove—

"Katherine."

That voice. Deep, commanding, unchanged after five years. I kept walking, my heart thundering against my ribs.

"Katherine Jordan."

Heavy footsteps behind me, then a hand gripping my arm. I was spun around to face him–Alexander Hudson, looking exactly as powerful and dangerous as I remembered.

"Sir," I said coldly, grateful for the sunglasses hiding my eyes, "you're mistaking me for someone else."

His grip tightened. "Drop the act. I'd know you anywhere."

"This is a detention center," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "Would you like to become an inmate? I'm sure they have a lovely cell waiting for someone who assaults strange women."

His other hand came up, fingers brushing my cheekbone where my signature teardrop mole used to be. "Makeup can hide a lot, Kitty, but not everything. Shall I check your shoulder for that birthmark?"

The old pet name sparked my fury. I wrenched away, but he was faster, stronger. His hand slid beneath my blazer's collar.

The slap echoed across the detention center entrance. His head snapped to the side, genuine shock crossing his features. Before he could recover, I slapped him again, harder.

"How dare you! Fuck off! " I spat.

But Alexander was looking at my exposed shoulder, at the phoenix tattoo covering the skin where my birthmark used to be. His eyes darkened with rage.

"You little—" His movements were a blur, and in the blink of an eye, I was swept off my feet. He held me tightly in a bridal - style carry, his grip unyielding as if he was afraid I'd slip away.

"Help!" I screamed, struggling as he carried me toward a waiting black Lamborghini. "Someone help! This man is trying to kidnap me!"

"Mr. Hudson!" His assistant–Jack Lawrence, I recognized him from tech news coverage–hurried forward. "Sir, there are cameras—"

"Get the car door," Alexander ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

Even as I fought, I noticed how the security guards looked away, how passing visitors suddenly found their phones fascinating. Hudson Financial Group's influence ran deep in Seattle.

"You fucking bastard," I spat venomously as he shoved me into the backseat. "You think you can just control everything and everyone, you arrogant prick? Well, you're dead wrong!"

He climbed in after me, his presence filling the confined space. "Well, you're running away instead of facing consequences. We have a lot to discuss, wife."

The door slammed shut. Through the tinted windows, I could see the detention center receding–and with it, my chance to help Kevin.

But as Alexander's cologne surrounded me, bringing back memories of passion and betrayal, I forced myself to stay focused.

The Lamborghini merged into Seattle traffic, carrying us toward a confrontation five years in the making.

"Five years," Alexander's voice cut through the tense silence. "Five years of thinking you were dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "What it did to you? Are you fucking kidding me? You self - centered asshole!"

His voice rose sharply. "You're the one who faked your own death and ran away!"

I slapped his hand away with all my might. "I don't know what are you talking about!"

His control was slipping, raw pain bleeding into his anger.

All of a sudden, he said in a sinister tone, "The girl who made a scene at my wedding, she's mine, right?"

My heart skipped a beat, and a swirl of confusion welled up inside me. What on earth was he talking about? My kids were living in Switzerland.

"I don't have any kids" I said icily, but my eyes betrayed me.

Alexander caught the movement. His eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously.

"Katherine," his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "what aren't you telling me?"