Chapter 3

When I woke the next morning, Fabian was gone, just as I'd expected.

What I'd asked for was already sitting on the cabinet beside the bed.

A staggering sum of money, and the old case files.

But it was exactly what I'd anticipated.

Everything they'd let me see had already been scrubbed clean.

That massive case from three years ago—every detail now looked as neat and tidy as a textbook example manufactured for a criminal investigation course.

These were sealed files, and yet Fabian had managed to set them on my nightstand the very morning after I asked.

What made it more interesting still was that this was the case that had put me away.

And it carried my own signature.

Someone else's handwriting could be forged.

But my own handwriting.

My finger traced over the two words signed there. Gladys Harding.

Three years ago, back when I was still the youngest partner at the metropolitan law firm, I had signed it myself.

Every piece of it was too perfect.

No wonder Fabian felt so untouchable.

"I want to see Wayne Donaldson."

I'd thought it would take some effort to get Fabian to agree.

But when I handed the file to Jason, he told me Fabian had already arranged it.

Today, at noon.

Fabian had invited everyone who'd been involved in the case back then to a meal.

Except the ones who'd died, and the ones still behind bars.

Which left only me, Fabian, and Wayne.

6

By the time I arrived, Wayne was already waiting inside.

He swept a glance over me, then looked away.

The bodyguards closed in around me, penning me in the middle—clearly on Fabian's orders, as if afraid Wayne might do something to me.

I had no control over these bodyguards.

I didn't even have control over the clothes on my back.

Today's outfit could certainly convince anyone that I was Mrs. Taylor of the Taylor family of the port city.

"I read the old case file. There's no problem with it."

"Would you like a look, Lawyer Donaldson? After all, at your current rank, you can bring me in for questioning."

"But that old case—you shouldn't have the clearance to see it."

"I can help you. After all, we're—"

Wayne shot me a glance.

"We're what?"

"Ex-lovers, engaged, or old flames?"

"So it turns out a connection like that lets me view the very file I've been requesting from the director for three years."

"Let me get a good look at exactly how you got those eleven people killed back then."

I gave an indifferent nod.

It wasn't that I couldn't hear the mockery in Wayne's voice.

But I still wanted him to take a look, because everything back then had been handled too fast.

We hadn't even seen each other once after it all went wrong.

I put on a show of anger and hurled the file straight at Wayne's face.

The thick folder split the skin on his forehead, and it bled.

I laughed, delighted.

Clapping my hands and pretending to beg forgiveness.

"So sorry, Lawyer Donaldson. My hand slipped."

Wayne pressed his brows together, his eyes filled with disappointment in me.

I stepped forward, the bodyguards trailing every step.

All I could do was crouch and gather the pages scattered across the floor.

Pretending it was careless, I pulled out the one I suspected.

Hand on my hip, I held it up and waved it in front of Wayne.

"Look, it's all dirty now."

I gave his chest a flippant little tap with my finger.

"Stop digging into it. I've already served three years locked up. For old times' sake, just let me go."

The coquettish note in my voice made Wayne take a few steps back.

Inside, I was pleading.

Hoping Wayne would understand, would at least take one look.

That single page was the only thing I'd found that didn't match my memory of what had happened.

"Gladdie, show some respect for Lawyer Donaldson."

Fabian's voice came from behind me.

He pulled me into his arms, staking his claim.

"Forgive her, Lawyer Donaldson. Three years locked away—my wife's bound to carry some resentment."

Fabian waved a hand, and someone set a thick stack of cash down in front of Wayne.

"For the medical bill."

Wayne didn't spare the money a single glance and went straight to the point.

He asked what we'd brought him here for.

Fabian toyed with my hand.

When his fingers found the shooting calluses on it, he let out a small, regretful sigh.

"A shame these calluses never fade. Such lovely hands, wasted."

Wayne, left standing off to the side, darkened and said he had official business and needed to leave.

Fabian stopped him.

He said, without a trace of concern:

"Whether you have official business, your director knows best. Otherwise I'd never have gotten the great, endlessly busy Lawyer Donaldson to come at all."

"But there's really nothing to it today. I simply made a bet with my wife."

"My wife told me her ex-boyfriend was a fool. I didn't believe her, so I had a look for myself today."

"And it seems my wife won."

Fabian was plainly out to humiliate Wayne.

I found it funny.

An insult like that, back in the day, might have angered Wayne.

But the Wayne standing here now was not the Wayne he'd been.

And what's more, my weight in Wayne's heart was no longer what it had been either.

The person I was now was the mastermind behind that old case.

The one who'd gotten his mentor killed, gotten his brothers killed.

A traitor. Fabian's lapdog.

Wayne looked at me, long and hard.

Fabian caught the look and shoved me behind him, all possessiveness.

Wayne asked, expressionless:

"Can I go now?"