Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 127

But the police operated by the book, and a few crocodile tears weren’t going to sway them.

“Mr. Gonzalez, Ms. Spencer,” the officer said formally. “According to the law, a case can only be filed for assault if there are facial contusions of at least four square centimeters or bodily contusions exceeding twenty centimeters. Ms. Spencer’s injuries are merely superficial, not even qualifying for a civil complaint. If you wish, we can arrange for mediation and have Ms. Jones offer you a formal apology.”

Queena stared, dumbfounded. After all her scheming, the most she could get was a half-hearted apology from Yvonne? She thought of the sharp pain in her ankle when she had landed, and her anger flared.

Just then, she saw Yvonne walking toward them. An idea sparked in her mind, and she buried her face in Matthew’s chest, sobbing. “Matthew, I’m scared! I’m so scared! Don’t… don’t let Yvonne come near me! Please…”

Matthew protectively wrapped an arm around Queena while pointing an accusatory finger at Yvonne. “Yvonne, even if the police won’t press charges, I swear this isn’t over—”

He never finished his sentence. Yvonne’s hand shot out and connected with his cheek in a loud, sharp slap. She was getting quite good at slapping scumbags lately.

“I’m not finished either, Matthew,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “You bribed a doctor and falsified a medical report. I will be reserving my right to sue you for that.”

Without waiting for his reaction, she turned and left with Sandra and the lawyer, leaving Matthew standing there with a stunned, red face.

Outside the station, the lawyer cleared his throat. “Ms. Jones, while Mr. Gonzalez did commit forgery, the offense isn’t severe, and it didn't cause any serious harm. It would be very difficult to get a conviction. A lawsuit would be a long, draining process, and in the end, you’d likely only get a small monetary settlement.”

“I know you can find a way. I’m counting on you,” Yvonne said, sliding into the passenger seat of Sandra’s Audi. Sandra’s late husband had been well-connected, and Yvonne was sure she could pull some strings.

A week later, just as she had predicted, Yvonne got a call from Sandra.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with Mr. Thompson for two o’clock this afternoon,” Sandra said, her tone stiff. “He’s an extremely busy man. You have exactly ten minutes.” It had cost Sandra a considerable number of favors to make it happen.

“Ten minutes is more than enough,” Yvonne replied. She grabbed the file she had already prepared, and the two of them headed to the Thompson Group headquarters.