Chapter 3 Sky-High Bail Amount

Ximena Gonzalez's POV:

"Grandma, don't be scared," I said, carefully surveying the ransacked house. "They must be looking for something important. They won't kill Mateo until they find it."

"Really?" My grandmother sobbed. "Ximena, shouldn't we call the police?"

My brow furrowed.

It wasn't that I didn't want to call the police—I knew that if we did, Mateo would end up in prison anyway.

And those gangsters were ruthless. If we called the police without thinking it through, Mateo's life could be in real danger.

The priority now was to wait for them to contact us, find out what they wanted, and then decide whether to involve the authorities.

I was about to explain my thinking to my grandmother when the sound of car engines suddenly came from outside. A moment later, several uniformed officers walked through the door.

"Did you call the police?" I looked at my grandmother.

She shook her head blankly.

I walked to the doorway and glanced outside.

"Does Mateo Gonzalez live here?"

The lead officer was in his forties, tall, with a thick beard covering his jaw.

I squeezed my grandmother's hand and replied calmly, "He's not here."

"Where is he now?"

My grandmother started to answer, but I stopped her with a look.

I turned to the officer and said evenly, "We don't know where Mateo is. Is there something we can help you with, Officer?"

The officer scanned the chaos inside the house. "What happened here?"

"We were robbed," I answered without missing a beat.

The officer let out a contemptuous laugh. "Robbed? We were just coming to find him, and suddenly his house gets robbed? That's quite a coincidence."

I didn't respond.

The officer pulled out his badge from his jacket pocket and held it up in front of me. "I'm Detective Bellini, head of the narcotics division."

He tucked the badge away, his tone serious. "Your uncle Mateo is involved in a drug trafficking case. We need you both to come to the station for questioning."

I glanced at my grandmother, who was still in shock, and said calmly, "I'll go with you. My grandmother is elderly, and she just went through a home invasion. She's not fit to be interrogated."

Bellini looked at me for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Let's go."

I crouched down in front of my grandmother and took her cold hands in mine. "Grandma, I'm going with the police. I'll be fine. Don't stay here alone—go to Mrs. Perez's house and wait for me. I'll be back soon."

My grandmother looked up at me, her clouded eyes filled with fear. "Ximena, please don't disappear like Mateo..."

"I won't," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "This is just routine questioning. The police won't hurt me."

With that, I followed Bellini into the police car and was taken to the station, where I was led into an interrogation room.

"Standard procedure," Bellini said, pulling my hands behind my back and cuffing them. Then he sat across from me, his eyes fixed on mine. "We're investigating an interstate drug smuggling operation, and Mateo is a key figure. In the past six months, have you seen him bring anything unusual into the house?"

I thought carefully for a moment, then shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Mateo's been irresponsible, sure, and he's made some bad friends, but he wouldn't touch drugs."

Doubt flickered in Bellini's eyes. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "I understand you want to protect him. But you'd better think carefully—obstruction of justice and drug trafficking are two very different charges. You can't take the fall for him."

"I'm not taking the fall for anyone," I said calmly. "I'm telling you the truth. As you saw, our house was torn apart. If there were drugs, they would've been found by now."

Bellini stared at me for a long time. "Do you have Mateo's contact information? Or any of his associates'?"

"Yes."

Bellini gestured to an officer behind him, who placed paper and pen in front of me.

After I wrote down the numbers, the officer quickly pulled the paper away.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

Bellini took the paper and said flatly, "Sorry. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Until the investigation is complete, you need to remain under our supervision."

"So you're detaining me?" My voice rose slightly.

"Not detaining," Bellini said with a faint smile. "Temporary custody during the investigation. Of course, the law allows you to post bail."

I understood. This was a blatant shakedown.

I bit my lip. "How much is bail?"

Bellini looked at me. "One hundred thousand dollars."

"That much?" I felt like someone had dumped ice water over me.

One hundred thousand dollars. All my savings combined didn't even reach fifty thousand.

This month's paycheck hadn't come through yet, and even when it did, after paying for my grandmother's rehab center, there wouldn't be much left.

"Can I leave to borrow the money?" I asked.

Bellini shook his head. "You can't leave until the bail is posted. That's the rule."

"But I have work tomorrow," I said urgently, my voice tightening. "I'm a nurse. I have an important medical assignment."

Bellini's tone didn't soften. "Nothing here is more important than a family member of a suspected drug dealer cooperating with our investigation. You understand what I'm saying?"

I looked at him in silence.

My phone had been confiscated, and I had no way to notify the hospital. Was I really going to be trapped here?

Bellini didn't bother with me further and left the interrogation room.

An officer escorted me to a holding cell. It was my first night in a police station.

The sounds of despair and pleading echoed all around, adding an extra layer of terror to the already freezing room.

I sat on the edge of the cot, staring down at the bandage on my right wrist.

It looked like I wouldn't be able to go to Geneva with Albert. If I lost my job over this, I didn't know how I'd manage.

And what about my grandmother? If I couldn't get out, who would take care of her?

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I hugged my knees and spent the night in a daze.

The next morning, I was woken by the sound of the cell door opening.

A short-haired female officer stood in the doorway, holding my phone. "Someone posted your bail. You're free to go."

I sat up immediately. "What?"

I couldn't think of anyone generous enough to pay a hundred thousand dollars to bail me out.

"Are you leaving or not?" the officer snapped impatiently.

"I'm leaving." I stood up quickly and followed her out of the cell.

When we reached the station's reception area, my footsteps suddenly stopped.

Because I saw a familiar figure.