Dahlia's POV
"Who exactly are you calling a dog?" Isabelle surged forward, her face twisted with fury as she glared at me.
Frye flanked her, his hands balled into fists, ready to strike me down right there in the station.
I swept my eyes across the room, noting the security camera mounted in the corner, then replied with ice-cold composure, "Exactly what I thought. A pack of well-trained lapdogs."
The younger officer who already harbored a grudge against me muttered a curse under his breath.
His senior partner immediately restrained him and addressed me with forced professionalism. "This was all a misunderstanding. Neither party wishes to file charges. Sign the release forms and take your brother home."
"Apologize to me first, or neither of you walks out of here." Isabelle planted herself directly in my path, her eyes blazing with indignation.
I had anticipated this reaction. After all, how could the spoiled heiress of the Quilla dynasty tolerate such public humiliation?
