Chapter 4

【The information you provided checks out. Our technical team has already intercepted the classified project data.】

On my end, I sent everything across at once—identity records, the company address, and the footage the system had backed up from Cooley's own security cameras.

In the video, Brad Vance slipped into my office during the wedding, opened the safe, and took the company seal.

Then, down in the underground parking garage, he handed it off to Myron's people.

The evidence was clear as day.

They told me to keep the line open and not to tip off the suspects.

Myron came over himself to pull open the car door for me.

"Come on. Don't miss the appointment slot."

More than twenty bodyguards stood behind him in neat rows.

Supposedly there to protect me, yet every one of them watched me with cold, wary hostility.

I pretended not to notice and followed Myron into the building.

The moment the clerk asked us for our IDs, I made a show of pressing a hand to my stomach.

"I need to use the restroom first."

Myron's impatience showed plainly.

"Now? We're about to register. Can't you hold it?"

"This dress has been cinching me all morning. You try it."

He had no choice but to let go.

I went into the restroom, locked the stall, and snapped my ID in two before dropping it in the trash.

Five minutes later I came out looking panicked.

"Myron, my ID fell in the toilet and got flushed away."

His brow twitched hard.

"Constance, why the hell did you take your ID into the bathroom?"

I played it aggrieved.

"The clerk just asked me to get it out, so I tucked it in the dress pocket. What was I supposed to do?"

The clerk told us that without the document, the registration couldn't proceed for now. We'd need to produce valid proof of identity.

Myron pressed him, tense.

"A digital ID won't work?"

"It doesn't meet the current requirements."

I tugged at his sleeve and put on a coaxing tone.

"It's fine, isn't it? The wedding's already done, we're this close. Just send someone to get me a replacement and it's sorted."

Myron stared at me for a few seconds. Seeing no sign I meant to run, he swallowed his temper and turned to have his assistant handle it.

Just then my phone buzzed.

A bank notification. One hundred million dollars, fully received.

Then a second one—the share-transfer payment from Solaris had cleared its final settlement too.

Looking at that long string of numbers in the account, the nerves I'd held taut all day finally eased a little.

The money was in, the shares were transferred, and the handover of the Skyvault Project had entered its final steps.

At least from this moment on, even if Myron turned on me right now, he could never get his hands on what he actually wanted.

The next second, a man came hurrying in from outside the county clerk's office.

It was Brad Vance.

He went to Myron, who was chasing up the temporary-ID paperwork, and lowered his voice.

"Mr. Vance, the seal's been handed over as planned. Our overseas contacts confirmed they received the materials. The wire from abroad will land in under half an hour."

The words had barely left his mouth.

Outside the county clerk's office, brakes screeched.

Several cars stopped almost at once, and a wave of officers and officials strode fast into the hall.

Brad froze for a beat, then his face lit up. He muttered to Myron.

"Mr. Vance, the people you arranged got here fast."

Myron sensed something was wrong. Frowning, he swept his gaze to Roberta Baxter standing on the fringe of the crowd.

Across the crowd, Roberta had gone bone-white, shaking her head at him as hard as she could.

Myron's pupils shrank. The next second, he grabbed my wrist.

"Connie, let's go register first."

But it was too late. Several officers had already reached us.

The man in front held up his badge, his eyes settling on me.

"You're Constance Cooley, chairwoman of Cooley Group? We're here to investigate your company for the suspected illegal transfer of major classified research data to overseas parties."

At those words, the tension in Myron's shoulders visibly drained away.

Behind the crowd, Roberta let out a quiet breath too.

Myron even slid back into that devoted look and gripped my hand tight.

"Connie, what's going on?"

"But whatever's happened, I'll get a lawyer to post your bail right away."

The lead officer frowned, though, and waved a hand at the men waiting behind him.

Myron was still standing there, not catching on, when two officers cuffed him.

"Myron Vance, you're coming with us."