POV: Isabella
Freedom was a room with no windows. The apartment was a sleek, modern box in a nondescript building in a neighbourhood that wasn’t trendy, wasn’t run-down, and wasn’t anything at all. Neutral beige walls, a grey modular sofa, and a stainless-steel kitchenette that looked like it had never been used. It smelt of synthetic air freshener and new carpet. A safe house. A different kind of prison, but one with a door she could, theoretically, unlock.
Bail had been a furious, covert operation. Xavier hadn’t been able to secure it himself—the conflict of interest was too glaring. It was David Chen, through a shell company and a lawyer Xavier had never met, who posted the bond. Isabella was released through a side door of the courthouse after midnight, ushered into the back of a tin
