“If she doesn’t sign the documents, let the debt collectors take her away.

The interrogation wing of the San Diego Central Police Station smelled of cheap floor wax, industrial disinfectant, and stale coffee.

I walked down the narrow, tiled hallway wearing a sleek, ivory silk jumpsuit and a navy coat, my heels clicking sharply against the floor. Two armed guards bowed as Marcus opened the heavy steel door to Interrogation Room B.

Inside, sitting at a bolted metal table, was Christian Reynolds.

The tailored tuxedo was gone, replaced by a dark green county jail jumpsuit. His wrists were cuffed to a heavy iron ring in the center of the table. His blond hair was messy, dark purple circles hung beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his skin was a sickly, translucent gray.

When the heavy steel door clicked shut and I sat down in the metal chair across from him, Christian raised his head slowly.

"Charlotte..." Christian rasped, his voice sounding like dry gravel grinding together. "Charlotte... please... you have to listen to me..."

I sat back comfortably in the metal chair, resting my hands in my lap, looking at him with absolute, icy silence.

"I didn't know, Charlotte!" Christian wept, fat tears rolling down his sunken cheeks. "I swear to God I didn't know about Brooklyn's scam! She told me her brother was dying! She manipulated me! She seduced me at a company party when I was drunk!"

"You were sober when you opened the Cayman accounts, Christian," I said flatly, my voice cutting through his frantic weeping. "You were sober when you hired three loan sharks to break into my apartment. And you were completely sober when you told them you didn't care what happened to my body as long as you got eight million dollars."

Christian shuddered violently, bowing his head until his forehead nearly touched the cold steel table.

"I was stupid... I was greedy..." he sobbed, his hands shaking in his iron cuffs. "I thought... I thought if I got the eight million, I could pay off the investors, buy a house, and bring you back... I thought we could be happy..."

"Happy?" I let out a soft, dry laugh. "You thought I would be happy after you handed me over to criminal loan sharks and forced me to sign my life away?"

"I was desperate, Charlotte!" Christian screamed, looking up with wild, bloodshot eyes. "You don't know what it's like to build something from nothing! You don't know what it's like to be terrified of failure every single day!"

I stared at him, feeling a sudden, overwhelming wave of pity—not for his situation, but for his profound, pathetic ignorance.

"I built Prescott Logistics' digital design network from scratch when I was twenty-two, Christian," I revealed quietly. "I know exactly what it's like to build something. The difference between us is that I built my life on hard work and integrity. You built yours on stolen money, cheap lies, and the exploitation of a woman who genuinely loved you."

Christian swallowed hard, his jaw trembling. "What... what's going to happen to me?"

"District Attorney Vance has filed twelve federal felony counts against you," I stated cleanly. "Embezzlement, grand larceny, attempted human trafficking, conspiracy to commit severe bodily harm, and wire fraud. With the evidence provided by your loan sharks and Brooklyn's confession, your public defender estimates a minimum sentence of thirty-five years in federal prison."

Christian’s face drained of every remaining drop of color. "Thirty-five years...?" he whispered in pure horror. "I'll be sixty-four years old when I get out..."

"And Nexus Tech has been fully liquidated," I added, standing up slowly from my chair and buttoning my navy coat. "Every patent you ever filed now belongs to the Prescott Foundation. By tomorrow morning, your name will be scrubbed from every business journal in the country."

I walked toward the steel door, knocking twice for the guard to open it.

"Charlotte! Wait!" Christian screamed, scrambling against his iron cuffs, the heavy metal clinking loudly against the table. "Please! Don't leave me like this! Just tell me one thing... did you ever really love me?!"

I paused at the open steel door, looking back over my shoulder at the broken, weeping man sitting in the sterile green room.