Chapter 1: Midnight Messages

My buddy’s newlywed wife had porcelain skin, striking features, and legs that seemed to go on forever.

Late one night, I got a message from her:

"Hey, are you still up?"

"Not yet. What’s up, Rachel?"

"Where do you live? Send me your address. I’m coming over."

It was past midnight when I got a friend request on Facebook. Curious, I opened it. The profile picture was of a gorgeous woman—delicate features, sharp lines, almost like a movie star.

She looked familiar, but I couldn’t immediately place her.

As I sat up in bed, the glow of my phone the only light in the room, I scrolled through her photos. She had that Midwestern polish—subtle, not showy. I could almost imagine the faint, sweet scent of expensive perfume rising off her profile.

I checked the name: Rachel Evans.

I slapped my forehead. Of course! Wasn’t this my friend Marcus’s new wife?

Marcus and I were college buddies—thick as thieves. Even after graduation, we stayed close. Not long ago, I’d been at his wedding in Maple Heights. No wonder she looked familiar.

I could still picture the backyard party—open bar, string lights in the trees, Rachel dazzling in her ivory dress, Marcus grinning like he’d hit the jackpot. It all felt like yesterday.

But why was she adding me in the middle of the night?

Still confused, I hit accept.

Seconds later, Rachel messaged: "Hey, Derek, are you asleep?"

"About to sleep. What’s up, Rachel?"

"Sorry to bother you. Can you talk for a minute? Sorry it’s so late."

My thumb hovered over the reply button, suddenly aware of how quiet my apartment felt. Was this just a weird fluke, or was something seriously wrong? Still half-groggy, I texted back that it was fine.

She called immediately. I answered, and on the other end, I heard a woman trying to stifle her sobs.

My heart dropped. Did they have a fight?

"Rachel, what happened?"

"Marcus was taken away by the police."

I shot upright in bed, heart pounding against my ribs. This was not the kind of midnight drama I expected.

"What? The police? When did this happen?"

She choked back tears. "Today. Marcus was gone all day and didn’t come home tonight. I just got a call from the police station—they said he’s under criminal investigation."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. "Did they say what for?"

"They said Marcus is suspected of embezzlement at work. His company reported him."

Marcus worked as the operations manager at a mid-sized tech company, overseeing over a hundred people.

Just last week, over drinks, he’d griped about the company—a mess of complicated relationships, cutthroat internal politics. I never imagined he’d be arrested so soon after.

Images of that night flickered in my mind—Marcus ranting about office snakes, laughing off his stress. Had he actually been hiding something serious?

"When I got the call, it felt like the sky was falling. What am I supposed to do?" Her voice was full of despair. "I really have no one else to turn to right now... You’re Marcus’s friend, and you studied law. Please help him."

I tried to reassure her: "Don’t worry, Rachel. If Marcus is in trouble, I’ll do everything I can."

"Thank you, Derek. Can we meet and talk? I’m so sorry for bothering you this late, but I’m desperate."

"Since it’s already happened, don’t panic for now. I’ll come find you tomorrow morning and get the details."

"No, I want to come see you right now. Give me your address."

I hesitated, glancing at the clock and then at my front door. At this hour, every sound from the street seemed amplified. Still, I texted her my address. The city was eerily silent, the kind of night where every car’s headlights seemed to linger too long on your street.

Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door.

I opened it to see Rachel standing there, eyes and cheeks red and swollen—she’d clearly been crying for a long time.

She was about 5'7", graceful and slender, with shoulder-length hair, giving off an air of intellect and capability. Even without makeup, she radiated the poise of a goddess.

She hugged her purse tight, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting around like she was afraid to be seen.

My friend was really lucky to have such a beautiful wife.

"Rachel," I greeted, quickly inviting her in.

She hesitated at the door. "Is there anyone else here?"

"No, I live alone."

She took off her shoes and stepped inside. The hallway smelled faintly of takeout and old carpet, the kind of building where every door had a different welcome mat.

I invited her to sit on the sofa and poured her a glass of water.

She took the glass, glancing around. "Derek, doesn’t your girlfriend live with you?"

I shrugged. "No girlfriend. Always been single. If I’m eating, that’s all I need—no one else to worry about."

She brushed her hair aside and looked at me. "Oh... Marcus said you change girlfriends pretty often."

I was stunned. "Uh... was he talking about me?"

"Maybe I remembered wrong." She gave an awkward smile. "What kind of girls do you like? I can introduce someone to you."

I joked, "Someone like you, Rachel, would be perfect."

Her cheeks instantly flushed.

She glanced away, biting her lower lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The moment felt both electric and awkward—like a scene from a rom-com where nobody knows their lines.

I wasn’t close to Rachel, so after a few awkward pleasantries, the atmosphere only grew more uncomfortable.

She broke the silence. "Can you be Marcus’s lawyer?"

I nodded. "I mainly do non-litigation work, but I handle litigation cases too. It’s not a problem."

"That’s great. I really found the right person." She paused, a bit excited. "There must be something wrong with this case. How could he embezzle company money? He must’ve been framed."

I knew the truth might be hard to hear, but I was honest: "Rachel, in my experience, the police wouldn’t detain someone unless they had solid evidence."

She bristled, her jaw tightening. I could see the hope draining from her face, replaced by raw worry.

"Then what should I do?" Her face fell. "I don’t know anything about his work—I can only worry."

I thought for a moment. "Right now, it’s just the investigation stage. As his lawyer, I can only apply for a meeting, not read the case files yet. The key is to talk to his company."

"Okay, I’ll listen to you. Please help us."

"Of course. You should go home and rest."

She nodded, stood to leave, and said she’d come by again tomorrow.

She lingered for a moment at the door, like she wanted to say more, but only managed a small, tight-lipped smile before leaving.

I went back to my room, yawning, completely exhausted.