Chapter 112: The Only Way Out
The next day, Diane was sitting in the car outside the police station, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her fingers ached.
This was the only way.
She had spent weeks running from the past, burying it, pretending that if she built herself into something stronger, it couldn’t touch her.
But Adrian was proof that the past didn’t stay buried.
It crawled out of the grave, grinning.
And if she didn’t stop him now, he would come back. Again and again.
She inhaled a lot of air, then stepped out of the car, pushing through the heavy doors of the precinct.
The station was full of—officers talking, people filing reports, the smell of stale coffee mixing with old paper.
A woman at the front desk glanced up. "Can I help you?"
Diane straightened. "I need to report a crime."
The officer—Detective Harper, according to her badge—raised a brow. "What kind of crime?"
Diane’s throat felt tight, but she forced the words out. "Abuse. Assault. Human trafficking."
Harper’s eyes sharpened. "Come with me."
Interrogation Room – 20 Minutes Later
The room was cold. Small. Empty, except for the table between Diane and Harper. A recording device sat between them, the red light was blinking.
Harper folded her hands, studying Diane carefully.
"Are you sure about this? The things you’re about to say—"
"I’m sure." Diane cut her off.
Harper nodded. "Alright." She pressed the record. "State your name for the record."
Diane inhaled. "Diane Hoffman."
Harper’s eyes scanned her whole body. "And who are you here to report?"
Diane clenched her fists under the table. "Adrian Ravenhood. And his father, Richard Ravenhood."
Harper’s face remained neutral, but something in her gaze sharpened. "Go ahead."
Diane’s voice was stable, but inside, she was unraveling.
"When I was eight years old, my mother—Rachel Hoffman—sold me."
Harper’s pen stilled, but she said nothing.
"She sold me to Richard Ravenhood," Diane continued, the words burned as they left her lips.
"He owned businesses. But they weren’t real businesses. They were fronts. The real money came from trafficking."
Harper’s grip on her pen tightened.
Diane exhaled. "From children."
Harper’s expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"You’re telling me you were trafficked?" Harper asked, voice level.
Diane nodded, digging her nails into her palms. "For many years."
Harper’s voice was softer now. "And Adrian?"
Diane swallowed hard. "He helped his father. He wasn’t just a victim—he participated."
Harper’s face darkened. "You’re saying Adrian Ravenhood abused you?"
Diane forced herself to look her in the eye. "Yes."
Silence.
Then—
"Do you have proof?"
Diane inhaled shakily. "I have scars. Medical records from when I was a child. Reports from hospitals that my step mother covered up."
Harper nodded slowly, as if piecing things together. "And Richard Ravenhood?"
Diane’s lips parted, but for a moment, she couldn’t speak.
Then, finally—
"No one can find him."
Harper frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He’s dead."
Harper’s pen stilled. "Do you know who killed him?"
Diane leaned forward. "Adrian."
The room was silent again...
Harper studied her for a long moment. "You’re saying Adrian Langley killed his father?"
Diane nodded. "Yes."
"Do you know how?"
Diane hesitated. "I was never told the details. But Richard disappeared, and no one has ever found his body."
Harper took a deep breath. "And you’re willing to testify to all of this?"
"Yes."
Harper shut her notebook and stood. "Give me a few minutes."
She stepped out of the room, leaving Diane alone with the weight of everything she had just said.
It was done.
There was no going back now.
This was the only way to bury Adrian for good.
The door opened, and Detective Harper stepped back inside—this time, with a man in a dark gray suit.
He was tall, sharp-eyed, carrying an aura of quiet authority.
Harper gestured to him. "This is Assistant District Attorney Marcus Hale. He’ll be handling your case."
Marcus extended a hand, his hold felt strong but not overpowering.
"Miss Hoffman, I appreciate you coming forward."
Diane nodded, shaking his hand before sitting back down. "I assume you’ve been briefed."
Marcus took a seat across from her, setting a folder down.
"Yes. And I’ll be honest with you—this case isn’t going to be simple. Adrian Ravenhood is already in custody for unrelated charges, but what you’re presenting?" He exhaled. "It changes everything."
"Good. Because he doesn’t deserve to walk free."
Harper crossed her arms. "Your testimony will be strong, but we need more. Something concrete. Do you have anything else tying Adrian to his father’s disappearance?"
Diane hesitated before nodding. "Rachel."
Marcus frowned. "Excuse me?"
Diane’s fingers tightened against the table.
"Rachel kept records. She documented everything—her money, her dealings, even her leverage over Richard."
Harper raised a brow. "And where are these records now?"
Diane exhaled. "I have them."
Marcus blinked. "You—what?"
Diane smirked slightly. "I’ve had them for years. I was waiting for the right moment."
Marcus exchanged a glance with Harper before leaning forward.
"Miss Hoffman, if what you have is legitimate, this could make Adrian’s case airtight."
Diane folded her arms. "That’s the plan."
"You really don’t do things halfway, do you?"
Diane smirked. "Not when it comes to revenge."
Marcus nodded. "Then let’s get to work."
Diane stepped out of the police station, the cold air hitting her face like a sharp slap. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. It was done.
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked toward the parking lot, her mind still racing with everything she had just put into motion.
And then—
A familiar person leaned against a sleek black car, arms crossed, smirking.
"Took you long enough," Riot drawled, pushing off the car. "I was starting to think you got arrested instead."
Diane rolled her eyes. "Not today."
Riot opened the passenger door for her, his face turned more serious now. "So? Did you bury the bastard?"
Diane slid into the car, letting out a slow breath.
"Not yet." She glanced at him. "But I just started digging the grave."
Riot grinned, shutting the door behind her before sliding into the driver’s seat. "That’s what I like to hear."
As the car pulled away from the station, Diane leaned back, exhaling.
Now, all she had to do was wait for the storm to hit.