Worst Fear 178

Worst Fear 178 Summary

Mason grows increasingly frustrated during a tense conversation with Detective Shawn, who insists that Lydia cannot leave due to the ongoing murder investigation. Shawn is adamant that Lydia remains detained despite Mason’s objections and the presence of a lawyer, citing orders from his superior, Mr. Grey. Mason is troubled by the mention of Mr. Grey, a close associate of Mr. Everett, and the implication that Lydia is being unfairly targeted.

 

Seeking leverage, Mason contacts Daniel to gather information on Anthony Grey. He obtains compromising photos of Grey with another woman, which Mason uses to pressure him into allowing Lydia’s release. Mason’s bold move works, and Shawn ultimately permits Lydia to go free, though the detective offers a reluctant apology for the earlier treatment.

 

On the drive home, Lydia reveals her emotional turmoil, insisting she did not push Julia and expressing deep distress. Mason reassures her of his belief in her innocence, acknowledging his past doubts and the guilt he feels for having accused her. Their shared moment of vulnerability strengthens their connection as they return home together.

 

At the house, Lydia is greeted warmly by Zoe, Mia, and Gloria, who have been supporting her throughout the ordeal. Despite the comfort of friends, Lydia remains troubled and hints at a possible suspect when she reluctantly admits to seeing Victoria at the event, suggesting new questions and uncertainties in the case.

Chapter 178

Mason

I narrowed my eyes, my patience thinning dangerously. “What?” I demanded, fighting the urge to tear the entire room apart in frustration.

Detective Shawn’s lips curled into a smug smile, clearly feeling triumphant. He pushed his hair back with a casual flick and settled more firmly into his seat. “She can’t leave,” he said with certainty. “This is a murder case. We simply can’t allow her back into society.” His voice sent a chill down my spine, making me wish I could block out the sound entirely.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off sharply. “Julia isn’t dead.”

“You can’t prove she pushed her with just one video,” Shawn retorted, dismissive. “There isn’t enough evidence. Anyone could have worn that dress.” I knew that was unlikely—only two of those dresses existed in the world.

One belonged to Lydia. I had no idea who owned the other, so maybe there was still a sliver of hope.

“She can go, by the la—” Davis began, but Shawn interrupted with a harsh tone.

“It’s an order from my superior, Mr. Grey,” Shawn said through clenched jaws, dripping with disdain. It was clear no matter what was said, he wasn’t budging, even with a lawyer present.

“Bail isn’t an option either.”

Bail was for those locked behind bars, but I’d never allow Lydia to step foot in a jail cell—not ever.

My teeth clenched at the mention of that familiar name. Mr. Grey was a close associate of Mr. Everett. News of Julia’s fall had spread quickly, and I knew her father, who likely believed Lydia was guilty, wouldn’t let her off lightly.

Lydia pressed her lips together, still seated and silent. I pulled my phone from my pocket, then placed a steady hand on the small of Lydia’s back, leaning toward her.

“I’m stepping out to make a call. I’ll be right back.”

The cool breeze tousled my hair as I walked toward my car. “Daniel, what do you have on Anthony Grey?” I asked, holding the phone to my ear.

“I’m sending it now,” Daniel replied without hesitation.

“Good.”

I ended the call, yanked open the car door, and slammed it shut behind me.

Moments later, my phone buzzed with incoming images. The first showed a man kissing a woman inside a car; the second captured the same pair sunbathing on a beach. They looked like the perfect couple—the woman’s smile radiant, the man’s eyes filled with love and desire. It was a flawless picture of affection.

Except they weren’t a couple.

I smirked. Three pictures were enough. Perfect. I found Mr. Grey’s number, sent the photos, then dialed him. The call connected on the second ring.

“Did you send me those pictures?” His voice was strained, almost a whisper.

“I see you’re having a pleasant night with your wife, while keeping mine here,” I said, grateful he’d skipped the usual pleasantries.

“What are you doing?” I heard the rustle of sheets, then footsteps. The sounds ended with the faint click of a door closing.

“What do you want? Why did you send those pictures? No—how did you even get them?” His questions came fast, but I ignored them.

Instead, I stated my purpose plainly. “I want Lydia’s name cleared from this case.” I heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end and casually studied my fingers.

“You what? Who do you think you are? I don’t grant just anyone’s requests,” he snapped, annoyance dripping from every word. Mr. Grey was known for his calm control and power—he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

“Request?” I let out a low, humorless laugh that vanished as quickly as it came. “That was an order.” My voice took on a dangerous edge.

“I’m friends with Mr. Everett. Why would I let his daughter’s murderer walk free?” His confidence wavered slightly.

“You saw those pictures,” I said slowly, resting my hand on the steering wheel. “One tap, and they’re in Mr. Everett’s hands. I wonder how he’ll react when he sees them.”

“Why would yo—”

“Your wife will be thrilled to get hers too. I have enough copies for everyone.”

“Ma—I mean, Mr. Woods, those photos are private,” his voice trembled now. “They shouldn’t be with you. I can sue you for stalking and… and pri—” He stammered, struggling to find words.

“You’d tell that to Mr. Everett? That might explain why you’re kissing his wife.” Without waiting for a reply, I ended the call.

When I returned to the office, Shawn stood nearby, phone pressed to his ear. He hung up shortly after and nodded at Lydia. “You can go.”

Lydia looked momentarily stunned. “I’m sorry for keeping you here. I made a mistake. I hope Miss Alissa won’t hold it against me for long,” he said, bowing deeply.

Lydia didn’t respond, simply turning and walking away. I followed closely behind. Lydia might be angry with Shawn now, but I knew she would eventually forgive him. I wasn’t so sure about myself.

Detective Shawn had crossed a line that couldn’t be forgotten.

The drive home was quiet. Lydia leaned her head against the headrest, gazing out at the dark night. The car came to a stop in front of a familiar black gate.

My heart tightened as I watched her unbuckle her seatbelt. Just as she reached for the door handle, I gently stopped her.

Her eyes looked fragile, the mask of strength slipping away. Her hands trembled beneath mine. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly.

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t push her. I would never…” She inhaled sharply, tears threatening to spill. She lowered her gaze.

I covered her hands with mine. “I know.”

She lifted her head, surprise clear in her voice. “You do?” I understood her doubt—after all, I hadn’t believed her when I should have.

I nodded, silently acknowledging my past mistake.

She stared into my eyes.

A heavy silence settled between us—not uncomfortable, but filled with unspoken words: I see you, I believe you, I’m here.

I reached up to brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. A soft sob escaped her lips, and she met my gaze with raw emotion.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She pressed her lips together, a faint smile touching her mouth. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

My chest tightened. I struggled to breathe. This must have been how she felt all along—needing someone, anyone. And I had been absent, joining the crowd that accused her of killing my stepfather.

Guilt I’d tried to suppress surged back fiercely.

Hand in hand, we walked toward the room. I had no intention of returning to the penthouse—not while Lydia felt this way. The twins were in their room, and Gloria was in the kitchen.

I heard Gloria’s voice on the phone. “Do you want to see your mom?” I asked Lydia.

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think she knows yet. She doesn’t check her phone often.”

I nodded.

Lydia started toward the stairs. We were about to take the first step when a familiar voice called out behind us.

“Lydia, you’re back.”

We turned simultaneously.

“Zoe,” Lydia said, surprise threading her voice.

Zoe closed the distance between us, taking Lydia’s hands in hers. Her eyes were soft, understanding—they knew. Behind her, Mia and Gloria stepped out from the kitchen.

Contrary to what I’d assumed, Mia and Zoe had been with Gloria the whole time.

“Are you okay?” Zoe asked gently, guiding Lydia toward the couch. I hadn’t noticed Mia was missing earlier.

I slipped my hands into my pockets and sat across from Lydia on the couch.

They gathered around her, firing questions rapidly.

“Give her a moment to breathe,” I said firmly.

“Who could have done that? Who would push Julia, and why?” Zoe’s brow furrowed deeply, lost in thought.

Lydia stared down at her hands. A glass of water rested on the table in front of her, which she had just taken a sip from. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m not sure.” Her expression hinted she suspected something.

“Is there something you know?” Gloria asked softly. She seemed to understand Lydia as well as I did.

Lydia glanced at me, then at Zoe. She inhaled slowly, then looked back down at the glass.

Reluctantly, she spoke. “I think I saw Victoria at the event.”