The police station smelled like coffee and despair. Natalie sat in the holding cell. Cold metal bench. Concrete walls. Humiliation.

Three hours. Three hours of waiting. Of thinking. Of rage building higher. Hotter.

Robert hadn't come. Hadn't pressed charges. Hadn't done anything.

Just left her here. To rot. To suffer. To learn her lesson.

But the lesson Natalie learned wasn't the one he intended. Wasn't about consequences. Or ...