I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 307: Ophelia Welhaven Did Not Lose

Smack!

The sound cracked through the holding cell like a gunshot.

Ophelia gasped, her head snapping to the side as a burst of pain exploded across her cheek. She pressed trembling fingers to her face, feeling the hot imprint of the woman’s thick, rough hand already swelling under her skin.

For a moment she could only stare.

Disbelief paralyzed her.

No one had ever dared to lay a hand on her before.

"How dare you!" Ophelia roared, her voice shrill with outrage. She lunged forward, raising her hand to strike back, fueled by humiliation and fury.

But she had badly misjudged her opponent.

The woman was faster, and far stronger.

Her wrist was caught midair in a vice-like grip. Before Ophelia could even react, the woman twisted her arm aside and delivered another brutal slap across her opposite cheek.

Smack!

The force sent Ophelia staggering backward. Her heel caught against the concrete floor and she crumpled like a piece of paper to the ground.

Pain burned across both sides of her face.

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes.

She clutched her cheeks, staring up in horror as the woman’s heavy shadow fell over her.

For the first time since her arrest, real fear crawled into Ophelia’s chest.

This wasn’t a social rival.

This wasn’t some snivelling maid.

This wasn’t someone she could intimidate with her name or her money.

This was a brute who didn’t care who she was.

The realization chilled her to the bone.

"Not so tough now, are you, lady?" the woman sneered, rolling her broad shoulders. "All that barking, now look at you, crying on the floor like a spoiled little girl."

Ophelia swallowed hard, her bravado evaporating.

She had imagined many humiliations when she was shoved into that squad car earlier—newspapers, gossip, scandal.

But she had never imagined this.

Never imagined being locked in a filthy cell with criminals.

Never imagined being slapped around like some common street trash.

"Now," the woman continued with a cruel grin, "I think you need a few more lessons about respect."

She raised her hand again.

Ophelia flinched, scrambling backward on the floor until her shoulders hit the cold metal bars. She curled in on herself, heart pounding wildly.

She wished desperately that she could simply disappear.

"Hey!"

A sharp, authoritative voice sliced through the tension.

The raised hand froze.

Ophelia cracked her eyes open.

The woman stepped back with a low grunt of annoyance at her prey escaping.

Relief flooded Ophelia as she turned her head to see a uniformed officer striding toward the cell.

The guard unlocked the door with a metallic clang and pointed at her.

"You," he barked. "Get up."

Ophelia didn’t need to be told twice.

She scrambled clumsily to her feet, wiping at her tear-streaked face, terrified that if she moved too slowly he might change his mind and leave her there.

"Your lawyer’s here."

The words were like music to her ears.

Without sparing another glance at the woman who had humiliated her, Ophelia hurried out of the cell, clutching her torn dignity around her like a fragile coat.

Behind her, she heard mocking laughter.

"Run along, princess," the woman called. "Try not to cry too hard."

Ophelia stiffened but kept walking.

She would remember that voice.

She would remember that face.

And one day, she would make sure the creature paid dearly for what she had done.

The guard led her down a narrow hallway with rooms on either side.

Each step felt like another blow to her pride.

She, Ophelia Welhaven, reduced to this.

Photographed.

Fingerprinted.

Thrown into a cage like an animal.

And now, assaulted by some low-class thug.

Her entire body trembled with rage and shame.

At last they reached a small, dingy office.

Inside, her lawyer sat waiting.

He rose as she entered.

"Ms. Welhaven," he greeted formally.

"Finally," Ophelia snapped, brushing past him to sit down. "Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in there?"

She didn’t wait for an answer. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"Why did you take so long?" she demanded. "I want you on the phone immediately. Call the governor, call a judge, call someone. Just get me out of this hellhole."

The lawyer hesitated.

"Unfortunately," he said carefully, "that can’t be done."

Ophelia froze.

Panic flickered in her eyes.

"What do you mean it can’t be done?" she shrieked.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

"Keep it down in there!" the guard barked from the doorway. "Or you’re going right back to the cell."

Ophelia sucked in a sharp breath.

She pressed a hand to her chest and forced herself to inhale slowly.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

When she spoke again, her voice was lower but no less frantic.

"I can’t stay here," she whispered. "Do you understand me? I cannot go back into that cell with that... that thug."

Her composure cracked.

"She attacked me," Ophelia said, her voice trembling. "She put her filthy hands on me. I won’t survive another hour in there."

"You have to do something."

The lawyer sighed heavily.

"Ms. Welhaven," he began, folding his hands, "this is not a minor matter."

"I know that," she snapped.

"You are being charged with conspiracy to commit murder," he continued. "These are extremely serious allegations. The court will not simply release you because you’re uncomfortable."

Ophelia stared at him as though he had slapped her all over again.

"No one can help me?" she repeated weakly.

"Not tonight," he admitted. "At least not until you appear before a judge."

His words felt like a death sentence.

Ophelia leaned back in her chair, suddenly lightheaded.

A judge.

A courtroom.

Handcuffs and headlines.

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

And worse, returning to that cell.

To that woman.

Her hands began to shake.

"No," she whispered. "I won’t go back there."

She straightened suddenly, desperation sharpening her voice.

"Bribe one of the guards," she said urgently. "Pay them, give them anything they want. Just get me transferred to a private holding area. Immediately."

The lawyer blinked. "Ms. Welhaven, I..."

She reached across the table and grabbed his tie, yanking him close.

"I don’t care what it takes," she hissed. "I don’t care how much it costs."

Her eyes burned with fierce, brittle determination.

"I want you to do everything in your power to make sure I am out on bond tomorrow. Understood?"

He swallowed.

"Yes, Ms. Welhaven."

"Good."

She released him with a shove.

"Then do your job."

The lawyer straightened his tie, gathered his briefcase, and hurried out of the office to make arrangements.

Ophelia sat alone.

For the first time, there was no one left to perform for.

No one left to intimidate.

No one left to pretend for.

She stared down at her trembling hands.

Six hours ago she had been a respected socialite, untouchable and powerful.

Now she was a criminal defendant, begging for favors like a common offender.

Her cheeks still throbbed where the woman had struck her.

Slowly, Ophelia lifted her chin.

This was only temporary, she told herself.

A minor setback.

She would get out.

She would fix everything.

She would make them all pay.

Ken.

Levi.

Lyse.

All of them.

They thought they had won.

But they had no idea who they were dealing with.

Ophelia Welhaven did not lose.

Ever.