How could that be? She had destroyed every shred of evidence that could implicate her! And… the police knew who Brendan’s wife was, and Deirdre was already sentenced for the crime. Who the f*ck would even care about the truth when everything was already settled!?

Who was it? Who the f*ck was it who wanted her dead!?

Charlene was hysterical. She started to rip the document with her bare hands like a woman possessed until the police snatched it out of her grip. She turned to Brendan and started to shout for help, “Help me, Bren! Help me now! I don’t want to go to prison! I don’t! Didn’t Deirdre admit to the crime already!? Why the f*ck do I have to be arrested!?

“F*ck off! All of you get your f*cking hands off me! That was four f*cking years ago! I’m gonna be Mrs. Brighthall, you f*cking pigs! You can’t do this to me! F*ck all of you to h*ll— Aaaaargghhhhh!”

Charlene’s meltdown was indistinguishable from a nervous breakdown, but the police were unfazed. They just hauled her and her w