d266.The smell of scorched jet fuel settled into the cabin like an invisible predator.

The abandoned hangar at the edge of the municipal airfield was dark, smelling of motor oil and damp earth. A single overhead industrial bulb cast a harsh cone of white light onto the concrete floor.

Sophia Carter sat tied to a steel chair beneath the light, her designer dress smeared with dirt, her hair disheveled. Two of Vincent’s private security guards stood silently in the perimeter shadows.

Footsteps echoed against the hollow metal walls.

Vincent emerged from the darkness. He walked slowly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark overcoat. There was no rage on his face. There was only a terrifying, hollow emptiness that chilled Sophia to the marrow of her bones.

"Vincent!" Sophia cried, tears of feigned terror instantly welling in her eyes. "Thank God! Your men—they grabbed me from my garage! They dragged me here! Tell them to untie me! What is the meaning of this?"

Vincent stopped two paces in front of her. He looked down at her as if she were a roach crawling across clean marble.

He withdrew an audio recorder from his pocket and pressed play.

*“Two million dollars... Make it look like an opportunistic kidnapping for ransom. Just get him out of Chicago.”*

Sophia’s voice echoed through the vast emptiness of the hangar, crystal clear and utterly damning.

The color instantly vanished from Sophia’s face. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"We picked up your contractor forty minutes ago," Vincent said mildly. "He was surprisingly eager to share his text messages, wire transfer confirmations, and the GPS coordinates of the warehouse you rented for my son."

"Vincent... no, listen to me," Sophia stammered, her voice pitching into a panicked whine. "It's not what you think! I was desperate! You were slipping away from me! You were obsessing over that woman again!"

Vincent knelt down so that his eyes were level with hers. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a guillotine blade.

"Did you pay the mechanic in Aspen?"

Sophia’s breath caught. Her eyes darted wildly toward the shadows. "Vincent, please—"

"Did you pay him?" Vincent’s voice cracked like a whip, the fury finally breaking through his terrifying composure. He slammed his hand against the steel armrest of her chair, making the metal shriek. "Answer me! You put my wife on a plane you knew was sabotaged!"

"I didn't want it to explode!" Sophia shrieked, finally breaking, ugly sobs distorting her perfect features. "The mechanic said the engine would just smoke! He said the pilot would make an emergency landing, everyone would evacuate safely, and you would see how much you needed me! But the landing gear broke! The fire started! It was an accident, Vincent! I swear to God, I never meant for the plane to burn!"

"You left her," Vincent rasped, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with absolute hatred. "You screamed for me to carry you out first because you knew the fuel lines were breached. You knew the plane was going to blow, and you let me leave my pregnant wife to die."

"She stole you from me!" Sophia screamed, her facade of elegance peeling away completely, revealing the venomous, desperate monster beneath. "You were mine first, Vincent! You were supposed to marry me! But you chose that plain, pathetic nobody! I deserved to be Mrs. Moretti! Not her! Not that little bastard she carried!"

*Slap.*

The sound echoed through the hangar. Vincent hadn't struck her; he had simply swept his arm across the metal table beside her, sending a tray of steel tools crashing to the concrete floor with a deafening racket.

Vincent rose to his full height, wiping his hands on a clean handkerchief as if he had touched something diseased.

"You will never see the light of day again, Sophia," Vincent said coldly.

"You can't prove anything!" she spat, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face. "My lawyers will tear your recordings apart!"

"I don't need lawyers," Vincent replied smoothly, turning his back on her. "The Federal Aviation Administration, the FBI, and the Department of Homeland Security are already waiting outside. Tampering with a civil aircraft resulting in corporate disaster and attempted mass murder carries two consecutive life sentences in a federal penitentiary. You will spend the next forty years in an eight-by-ten concrete cell in Terre Haute."

"Vincent! No! Vincent, please! I did it for us!" Sophia shrieked, thrashing against her restraints as two federal agents in tactical windbreakers stepped out of the shadows with handcuffs drawn. "Vincent! You loved me! You loved me!"

Vincent walked out into the cool night air without looking back.

The screams faded behind the heavy steel doors of the hangar. But as Vincent looked up at the starless Chicago sky, his heart felt no lighter.

Punishing the monster didn't undo the sin.