CHAPTER 39: A LONG NIGHT

The Hoffman residence slept under a heavy hush until the buzz of a phone sliced through the dark.

At 10:50 p.m., the screen on Sawyer Hoffman’s bedside table lit up, flooding the dim room with a blue glow. Harper stirred faintly beside him, shifting under the duvet. Sawyer groaned, rubbed his eyes, and snatched the phone before the vibration could wake her completely.

"Who is this?" His voice was rough, clipped with irritation.

A frantic male voice cracked through the receiver. "M–Mr. Hoffman! It’s—sir—it’s urgent—Adrian—"

Sawyer jerked the phone away from his ear at the sheer volume. "Speak clearly," he snapped, voice dropping into the low register that had made entire boardrooms flinch. "It’s the middle of the night. Stop shouting and say it again."

The secretary’s breathless explanation came in a rush, each word tumbling over the next. "Adrian’s been arrested—LAPD custody—your attorney’s already en route to Los Angeles—sir, it’s serious—"

Sawyer sat bolt upright, the mattress groaning under his sudden movement. "Arrested? Are you joking with me right now?" His voice thundered across the room. Harper stirred fully this time, eyes fluttering open. "Adrian told me he was on vacation with a friend. What the hell are you saying?"

The secretary inhaled shakily and continued, slower now but no less frantic. "Sir, the charge is obstruction of justice and conspiracy in an attempted homicide. The Brightfall plaza incident—the one with the Erisia Wrenford. Police say Adrian arranged the attack and was trying to flee the country when they caught him at LAX. The family attorney called me the second the warrant was confirmed. I—sir, I sent you the official statement. It’s from LAPD and the NYPD. Please check the link."

For a beat, Sawyer just stared into the dark, disbelief locking his jaw. Then he swung his legs off the bed and barked, "Stay on top of this. Don’t you lose track for a second." He ended the call with a hard swipe and opened the text message waiting on his screen.

The LAPD headline glared back at him:

BREAKING: Adrian Hoffman Arrested at LAX on Conspiracy Warrant.

He clicked the link. The joint LAPD–NYPD statement unfolded in cold, clinical lines—charges, extradition plans, Adrian’s name and age spelled out in black and white. His stomach turned.

"What is it?" Harper’s voice trembled behind him.

Sawyer handed her the phone without a word. She read the first paragraph, eyes widening until the phone wavered in her grip. "No—no, this can’t—" Her voice broke, a choked sound that ended in a sharp inhale. "Sawyer—"

"Easy." He caught the phone before it slipped from her fingers. "Breathe."

But Harper was already sitting upright, pulse racing. "He wouldn’t—Adrian wouldn’t—" Her words fractured into silence.

Sawyer cut the tension with action. He thumbed his secretary’s contact again. "Keep a constant line with the attorney," he ordered the moment the call connected. "Every update. Every hour."

"Yes, sir."

Sawyer hung up and immediately dialed the family attorney.

The line clicked after two rings.

"I just landed at LAX," the attorney said without preamble. "They’ve booked him, but I’ll see him within the hour. We’ll push for a quick extradition hearing and bail negotiations if possible, but New York wants him fast."

"I’m in my study in five," Sawyer said, already on his feet. "Call me from the station as soon as you see him."

Harper clutched the duvet around her shoulders, pale and trembling. "Sawyer—"

"I’ll handle it," he said, voice like gentle. "Stay here."

As he strode out, Harper snatched her own phone from the nightstand. Her fingers shook as she scrolled to Reid’s contact.

It rang once before her eldest son answered, voice heavy with sleep. "Mom?"

"Reid—it’s Adrian—he’s been arrested—" The words tumbled out in a rush, each one heavier than the last.

"What?!"

"Your little brother has been arrested! The authorities released a statement saying he directed the car incident that happened to the Wrenford girl, Erisia Wrenford. H-he—"

"Mom, calm down," Reid cut in, suddenly alert. "Don’t work yourself up. I’ll call Dad and find out what’s happening. Stay put, okay? Don’t upset your blood pressure."

"I can’t just—Reid, listen to me—"

"Mom. Breathe. I’ve got this."

He ended the call before her panic could rise again.

Still unsatisfied, Harper immediately tapped Vivien’s name. It rang. And rang. Straight to voicemail.

She tried again. Same result.

Finally, Harper left a message, her voice a brittle whisper edged with urgency.

"Vivien, it’s Mother. Call me back the moment you get this—it’s about Adrian. Please, it’s important."

She lowered the phone at last, the hum of the dial tone filling the large bedroom. Down the hall, the faint click of Sawyer’s study door closing marked the beginning of a long, sleepless night for the Hoffman family.

•

Delilah had just kicked off her plush closed-toe slippers and collapsed against the pillows, the script she’d been skimming sliding onto the nightstand. She knew she shouldn’t have stayed up to read the lines for a scene that wasn’t scheduled until next week—especially after wrapping one today—but sleep wouldn’t come, and she couldn’t help herself.

Delilah always wanted every filming to go perfectly, at least on her side. Her acting had to be flawless.

Her eyelids were finally heavy when a sharp knock rattled the hotel door.

At first, she ignored it—crew members sometimes mixed up rooms—but then her phone lit up on the bedside table, vibrating against the wood in a relentless rhythm. One call. Two. Three. Her manager’s name glared across the screen. Then her assistant’s.

The knocks came again, firmer this time.

Delilah grumbled, kicking her legs against the bed before going still. Whoever it was clearly wasn’t going to quit. The knock came again—sharp, persistent, endless.

"Fine," she muttered, voice rough with fatigue. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, jammed her feet back into her slippers, and shuffled toward the door.

The suite’s living room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of city lights bleeding through the curtains. Another knock hit just as she reached the door. Delilah yanked it open.

Her assistant stood there, wide-eyed and practically vibrating, clutching her phone like a lifeline. Without waiting for an invitation, she slipped inside under Delilah’s withering glare.

"Sorry, sorry," the assistant blurted, breathless. "I just had to tell you this tonight—I couldn’t wait until morning."

Delilah arched her brow, too tired for dramatics. "This better be worth the cardiac arrest." She turned and padded back toward the bedroom. "What exactly couldn’t wait?"

Her assistant trailed behind, phone still in a death grip. Reaching the room, Delilah flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, then sat up again and hugged a pillow to her chest.

"All right," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Spill before I fall asleep mid-sentence."

The assistant started telling her about Adrian’s arrest. Sitting beside her, she tapped on her phone and showed her the various posts gaining traction online, especially the official police statements.

When Delilah first heard the words, she blinked in surprise, then quickly snatched the phone and scanned the statement. A sharp, mocking laugh escaped her.

"Isn’t this my dearest spoiled cousin, Adrian? He’s actually been arrested. Well, serves him right. I’m sure his parents are worried sick right now. Is that why you came to my room and disturbed my sleep? You could’ve told me tomorrow morning. It’s not like someone from my own family was arrested. We may share blood, but we are not equals, okay? Now, take the phone and get out of my room."

The assistant sputtered, "I—I didn’t know you’d be angry. I just thought you should hear it right away. It’s going to be tied to us within the hour because of the family connection. That’s why I wanted to warn you first."

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Whatever they’re going to say, the internet can’t possibly claim I had a hand in his actions, right? They’ll only mention we’re family. That’s all. So it’s not really important."

The assistant shook her head. "I remember what the director said when he cast you—no headlines, no scandals, no gossip during filming. Now that this is linked to you, won’t he be displeased?"

"That grumpy man? Of course he’ll be displeased," Delilah said with a scoff. "But he can’t possibly replace me now, can he? We’re already past the halfway mark of filming and it’s not my fault anyway, so he’ll just have to suck it up. Besides, he cast me because of my impeccable acting. If he wants to waste money, resources, and time over this, that’s on him."

"But—"

"Trust me, this issue is nothing to me. It won’t affect me. Now, go back to sleep. I’ll talk to Mina, my manager, myself tomorrow morning."

"Okay, if you say so. Oh, right—I almost forgot! Miss Mina told me to inform you that Director Frederick will soon start auditions for his new movie." She checked her phone and nodded to herself. "She already sent me the details. I’ll forward them to you tomorrow. Can you believe it’s a horror film? Well, they’re calling it thriller–action–gore, but isn’t that basically horror?"

But Delilah was already half-asleep and barely heard the rest of her assistant’s words. She only hummed in vague acknowledgment, catching the soft goodnight and the sound of receding footsteps as sleep finally claimed her.

———