After the renovation team damaged one of the main walls at Sterling Villa, Damien moved into the Ashford Mansion. It was supposed to be for a few days, a temporary arrangent. But weeks passed, and he hadn’t returned.
Now, every morning begins with the sa routine. Cassandra’s voice echoed through the high-ceiling dining hall.
As usual, she started talking about Aveline. "I t Cullens and Starks from my social circle yesterday. Do you know what they asked ? How Aveline’s doing despite knowing about the divorce." Cassandra clicked her tongue as she stirred her tea with a look of distaste. "I had to tell them you’re not together anymore."
Damien didn’t reply.
"I still don’t know what you saw in her back then. I lose my appetite just by recalling her face."
Still no response.
"And enough of this sulking around. You need to get married again, Damien. I’ve been hearing good things about the Wayne girl..."
He stood up.
She paused, watching him adjust the cuff of his sleeve, and walked out of the house without uttering a word.
His irritation was rising day by day. He wasn’t sure anymore how he had lived with his mother before moving out.
He got in the car and drove away without looking back at his mother, who was standing by the door.
.....
At Ashford Holdings,
The day began quietly. His secretary handed over a few reports before pausing near the desk. He quickly reported on the work, etings, and urgent files.
Damien didn’t look up. He was reviewing the email that required his response. He asked, "Vivienne Sinclair?"
The secretary exhaled. He was giving the sa answer for weeks. "There is no sign of her. She hasn’t contacted CEO Sinclair either." They were keeping an eye on Elliot Sinclair’s activities and call logs.
Damien quickly responded to the email and closed his laptop when he found his secretary quietly standing there.
The secretary hesitated when he t Damien’s gaze. "There’s sothing... odd. About her videos."
Damien raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.
The secretary stepped forward and opened a series of videos on the screen. "She has uploaded fifteen videos so far. Each takes between one to three minutes. Watch these three."
Damien leaned slightly closer.
"The background appears identical," the secretary said, clicking between videos. "Sa tree, sa wind direction... but more importantly, the falling leaves... they’re the sa. Fra by fra."
Damien’s brows drew together as he watched a leaf float in the sa.
"It’s a loop," the secretary confird. "She has used either a green screen or a motion screen behind her. When we download the video from her account, it wipes out the tadata, so we can’t confirm the thod, but..."
They had already cross-checked toll entries, train logs, and dostic and international flights. She hadn’t left the city. So he said, "I’m sure this place doesn’t exist in Velmora."
Then the secretary said what Damien hadn’t considered.
"Director Damien..." He paused and pointed at the floor, "The floor and armchair are definitely of a fine quality. If she isn’t staying in any hotels, is it possible Vivienne Sinclair is hiding inside Obsidian?"
That silenced Damien’s thoughts.
He had revoked his support for Sinclair’s mbership at Obsidian. Or were they still mbers?
If Alaric Lancaster helps her, just to trouble him, then Obsidian would open its doors for her. It was highly possible.
And it would explain everything. Her silence. The vanished trail. The videos that seed everywhere and nowhere.
Without another word, Damien grabbed his phone and stord out.
.....
anwhile, at Prestige Associates,
Clara was focusing on her work in her office when a group of people, so in uniform, so in suits, and so in plain clothes, rushed inside the firm.
Before the receptionist could ask them anything or call anybody, a person disconnected the intercom and seized her mobile.
A person leading the team instructed, loud and clear, "Seal all the entrances and exits. Collect all the electronics, files, and digital files. Nobody is allowed to leave without my permission."
The n and won ran towards the rows of office rooms of the lawyers and other departnts. The silence of the firm was replaced with chaos.
By the ti Clara sensed the disorder downstairs, the officer barged into her room, displaying his identity card. Her eyes widened when she saw he was a marshal from the Departnt of Justice.
"Cooperate with the seizure and interrogation, Ms. Reeve. Don’t play over smart. Leave your mobile there and move to the conference room. Move."
Clara moved deliberately as she asked, "Do you have a warrant?" She was calm.
An officer in uniform ca at the sa ti and slapped the warrant on the table before he started seizing her room.
Clara tried to stay calm and think about what the problem could be. But she had no idea. She wondered if Scarlet, who was under detention, said sothing.
But how could that be so strong to get a warrant of seizure?
Well, she had no idea Scarlett wasn’t in detention, and she was the bar council to answer them and stop them from disqualifying her bar licence.
Thus started the questioning of every person who worked at the prestige Associates. From an attendant to senior associates, everyone was being questioned strictly. And whoever completed their interrogation, and their digital footprints were clean, were sent ho or else to a different room for more questioning.
The minutes turned to hours, and the sun was kissing the horizon, but Clara was just sitting there. There was no more calm and calculative composure anymore.
She panicked by afternoon and freaked out. She often yelled at the officer for holding them in there for so long. However, they didn’t attend to her till the end.
"Ms. Reeve, it’s your turn."
Clara felt her legs weak as she walked out of the conference room to the other room.
...
Inside a small room,
The silence in the room was sharper than any question. More than her, the officers were exhausted, but their fierceness stayed in their eyes.
"Ms. Reeve, take a seat." The marshal said.
Clara sat across from the marshal, her posture still straight, but her eyes had lost their fight. The officers had been interrogating others for hours. Everyone else had been cleared or taken elsewhere. Only she remained.
How could she stay calm?
A glass of water was pushed in front of her.
The marshal finally opened the folder. "Clara Reeve. Scarlett Fournier oversaw the legal docunts and financial clearances in the Eversage Holdings rger, correct?"
She gave a slow nod. "Yes. She was responsible for the rger."
He laid down two files side by side.
"One of these contains the original audit records. The other, the one you submitted, contains tampered numbers and altered tilines. Internal data confirms it was edited from a device on a secured login."
Clara’s mouth parted slightly, but the marshal continued.
"You submitted this report under Scarlett Fournier’s na. But the original version, retrieved from encrypted firm backups, has a digital watermark of the device that was seized from your boyfriend’s house. That’s financial misconduct and fraudulent attribution."
Clara’s eyes widened in disbelief. She had no idea her boyfriend’s house was seized, too. She swallowed hard. "I-I didn’t an to..."
"To what?" the marshal interrupted, his voice turning a bit fiercer. "Fra her? Because that’s exactly what you did."
She stayed quiet.
He leaned forward. "You also submitted this." He pulled out another sheet. "A legal declaration, dated six months ago. You said the previous chief of the firm testified Scarlett approved the fund movent and signed off on the transaction. He not only refused it, but we have proof now that the signature was imported from a different docunt and resized. The real approval was never made. That’s docunt forgery."
"I only used what was given to ," Clara whispered, clearly shaking. "I was told it had been cleared..."
"Who told you?" He shouted.
"Damien Ashford." She blurted out and then froze.
The silence was deafening when Marshal glanced at his team. They got another culprit.
The Marshal unlocked one of the seized mobiles. "Here’s a ssage from your assistant: ’Use template 04-F, fake Fournier sign, route through main server. Director’s instructions.’"
Clara’s eyes widened.
"This isn’t a courtroom, Ms. Reeve," he said flatly. "No objections. No ti extensions. This is the Departnt of Justice. And we’re not here to play defense strategies. You lied under oath, falsified docunts, and frad an innocent woman. That’s legal malpractice, and it’s grounds for imdiate disbarnt."
Clara swallowed hard. "I...I didn’t know it would go this far. Damien said the bar would never look this deep. He said it was a cover, just for..."
She cut herself off.
The marshal tilted his head. "Just for? What?"
Clara looked away. Her voice trembled now. "He thought if Scarlett got involved, Aveline Laurent would find him..." Her head dropped deep.
The marshal didn’t need more.
"You helped him trap an innocent lawyer. You used your position to destroy her career."
Clara’s lips quivered. Her hands were damp and restless in her lap.
"Because of people like you," the marshal said, closing the folder, "people don’t trust in the law. People assu the justice system works for the rich, not the right."
Clara said nothing. Her silence wasn’t strength anymore; it was fear.
He stood up and spoke to the officer at the door. "Start the formal disbarnt submission. She’s done."
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