#stflob

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Look, guys, I know this is very specific, but I was listening to the musical Chicago, and I was like, "Wait... this so works as a fic idea!!!!"

TW: THIS IS ALL FICTIONALLL. NONE OF THIS IS REAL

SYNOPSIS: In the eyes of everyone, you most definitely killed your husband! So what if he pissed you off and had an affair? And maybe the gossip about it was getting to you. Rest assured your doting family will put an end to this gossip because who are you if not their angel?

"DID YOU DO IT, MISS AGRICHE?" the reporter asked. eyes glued to the notepad in his hand. Instead of the murderess seated in front of him.

It wasn’t like it was unexpected that a member from the Agriche family would come out to be convicted for murder. Hell, a lot of them were probably insane in the head.

But pushing the thoughts aside. The reporter tried to seem confident; he really did. His life and his hard work would be all for nothing if he didn’t get this exact interview. His voice not wavering, his hands were steady. But his eyes wouldn't meet yours. And it only took that gesture for you to know he was terrified shitless of you.

The thought made your lips curl. Eyes trailing from looking at your nails to the quivering reporter. Your head is tilting to the side. Hair swishing to the side with the movement.

“Did I do it?” You echoed the question. Watching the reporter visibly flinch. Making you even more delighted at how afraid he was.

You didn’t blame him for being terrified. In fact, if he wasn’t quivering like a leaf, he probably would’ve been one of the most courageous reporters who’d tried to get an interview from you.

“Do you think I did it, mister reporter?” You switched the topics. Voice taking on a faux saccharine tone.

He vehemently shook his head. “N-no Miss…” he denied. But if he wasn’t stuck in this room with you, he probably would’ve declared loudly that you had committed that heinous act of murder.

“Well then, because I’m such a generous person,” you began, propping your feet on the wooden table across from you. Hand brushing off the strands of hair that had fallen onto your face.

"Let's see...well, it started off simply, really. I'm sure you knew my husband well. Who didn't know him? he had..." He trailed off, eyes squinting at the reporter as if trying to recall a lost memory; it made him squirm in his chair.

"Ah, well, he had this habit, really," you finally remembered, your hand going to play with the ruby necklace at your throat. His eyes had trailed down to your fidgeting. "You like it? Thank you! My adorable sister got it for me!" you gushed before turning back to your story.

"The habit... hmm... he'd go off during odd times in the night, and at first he told me he was just sleepwalking. And, well, you know men. I mean, you're one! But you know them." Your eyes trailed the reporters. A frown tugging at the quirk of your lips.

"They all—I mean all—think women are the stupidest people to ever exist!" you declared. "And my husband, poor soul, he thought I wasn't an exception to that." You sighed, head lolling at the back of the metal chair.

"I mean, really, what kind of fool sleepwalks and manages to change all his clothes and head to the maid's quarters?" You rolled your eyes.

"So obviously, like the very curious woman that i am"

"I followed him to the maid's wing, and lo and behold what I stumbled on! him and the maid in some passionate kiss I can't recall!"

"And I was so enraged, really—as I rightfully should've been!"

"Well, let's just say he had it com—"

Your name came out in a screech behind you, causing you to turn your head to the source of the voice; to your dismay, it wasn't the reporter.

But the view of your younger brother bursting into the room with the happiest smile on his face.

"Ah, Jeremy," you smiled, attention now diverted to the teenager.

"How are you holding up in here?" He asked now, right next to you. not waiting for your answer before he continued. calling out your name just to make sure your attention was on him.

"You know no one back home thinks you're guilty!" He added, "To please you, maybe?" or to ease some nonexistent worry.

"I know, Jeremy, darling," you cooed, hand ruffling his raven hair. "How's Roxana with her new pet?" you asked, hand shooing away the reporter, who scrambled away, chair screeching against the cement floor, some of his papers falling loose and onto the floor.

The reporter didn't bother trying to get them back, continuing his scramble out of the room.

"Jeremy, get me those papers," you ordered. to which your brother happily obliged, and a few seconds later the familiar texture was in your hands.

Your eyes read in the words on the paper greedily filled with the handwriting of the reporter. Your smile was now turned into a frown.

"Insane," "absurd," "psychopath," and another not so very nice choice for the way the reporter was choosing to tell the public.

You made an inaudible sound. throwing the papers on the floor back to where they originally were.

You stomped all over them. "What's wrong, big sister?" Jeremy asked.

"Nothing," you let out an exasperated sigh, hand-shooing him away. He obliged and left, not without picking up a few of the papers to understand why you were so upset.

--- --- --- --- ---

When the newspaper got delivered to you the next day in your cold, steel cell. Your frown was basically gone.

"REPORTER GOING MISSING. PLEASE HELP US FIND HIM."

"deserved," you whispered to yourself. You were innocent! You didn't do anything wrong!. Your family knew you were innocent.

you reminded yourself. that when Jeremy came to visit again, you'd hug him. Because who on earth would bother to do this besides your beloved younger brother?!.

--- --- --- --- ---

When Roxana came to visit. She usually came with Dion. And you'd gotten used to it, really. He never spoke standing in the dark spaces of the cell you resided in.

Roxana greeted you as she stepped into the cell. "Hi Roxy," you waved at the blonde. a vision of beauty with all blonde hair and the prettiest red eyes ever. an angel draped in red.

"How are you holding up?" she asked. taking in the place as she usually did for the millionth time.

"Like regular," you shrugged. "I know I'll get out," you added. Eyes flicking to Dion before settling back to the blonde.

"Did you see what Jeremy did for you?" she asked. In return, you smiled.

"Soooo thoughtful, isn't he?" You hummed, delighted. And maybe it didn't show on Roxana's face how irritated she was.

not at the fact that you were happy, no, never at you. at the fact that she could've done the same thing and gotten your praise instead of Jeremy.

The blonde straightened her already perfect posture. "So you're saying that if I did the same, I would have been able to get the same reaction from you?" she asked.

You nodded, not catching at what she was scheming. "Yeah, basically."

The confirmation made her want to scream with envy. "See you soon, I suppose," she waved off dryly, heels clicking against the floor as she walked out of the cell, Dion trailing behind her.

"You're planning something," he stated the obvious once the two were out of earshot.

"Is it obvious?" she asked dryly. Dion nodded. He cleared his throat. "What are you going to do?" he asked the obvious.

"im going to get her out of there" so Roxana could have the attention of her sister back on her obviously.

It was going to take a while, sure. But if by the end. Her old sister was smiling at her? and not at anyone else? Then that was all worth it.