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"HE THOUGHT HIS STEPSISTER WAS JUST MEAN—UNTIL THE POLICE FOUND WHAT WAS HIDDEN UNDER THE DOG HOUSE!" / Chapter 12 / 20

Chapter 12 - The Jailhouse Bargain

The cold concrete walls of the County Correctional Facility reeked of damp bleach. Rachel sat across the acrylic glass partition, her manicured nails replaced by bitten, jagged stumps, her hair dull and greasy.

Damian Sterling adjusted his silk tie as he sat down opposite her.

"You look terrible, Rachel," Damian said calmly through the intercom.

"Get me out of here," Rachel spat, banging her handcuffed wrists against the counter. "You promised if I kept my mouth shut about the off-shore accounts, your lawyers would quash the search warrants!"

"Your stupidity with the dog house ruined the delicate timeline," Damian replied coldly. "However, your failure created an unexpected loophole. Under Section 4 of Arthur's master trust, if both legal wife and named heirs are convicted of felony crimes, full executive power reverts to the elder line—me."

Rachel’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. "You set Eleanor and me up! You knew Michael would catch us!"

"I simply let hungry dogs chase a bone until they ran into traffic," Damian smirked. "Now, I need one final service from you, Rachel. A signed affidavit swearing that Michael forced you to poison Emma to frame Eleanor."

Rachel let out a bitter, raspy laugh. "Why would I do that? I'm already facing twenty-five years!"

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The amber liquid pooled in the thick-cut crystal shards like a pool of fresh arterial blood. Adrian Moretti, a man whose word could bankrupt nations or alter coastlines, lay gasping against the imported Persian rug of his Sands Point study. His lungs felt like shriveled parchment, desiccated and screaming for oxygen. The poison—slipped smoothly into his late-afternoon vintage by someone who knew the exact calibration of his rare nightshade allergy—had done its work with terrifying speed.

The amber liquid pooled in the thick-cut crystal shards like a pool of f...

The rain outside the Newport estate lashed against the leaded glass windows, mirroring the frost gathering in Dominic Mercer’s chest. The text from Brooke’s brother—Move faster—was still glowing on her phone upstairs, but downstairs, the chessboard was already set. Dominic had slipped back into his secure study

The rain outside the Newport estate lashed against the leaded glass wind...

The darkness of the sealed ancestral tunnel smelled of wet limestone, stagnant river silt, and decades of forgotten dust. My penlight cut a narrow, trembling beam through the damp air, illuminating the dirt-streaked face of Nora Bennett. Her chest heaved, her knuckles raw and bleeding where we had wrenched the mortar from the brickwork.

The darkness of the sealed ancestral tunnel smelled of wet limestone, st...

Damian leaned closer to the glass, his eyes turning to ice. "Because if you sign it, my legal team will file a motion for evidence tampering, and you’ll be out on parole in six months. If you refuse, the prison warden—who happens to owe me four million dollars—will transfer you to the maximum-security psychiatric wing tomorrow morning. You won't last a week."

Rachel stared at him, her body shivering. She grabbed the pen Damian’s lawyer slid through the slot and signed her name without another word.

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